Page 69 of When She Was a Governess
“Since approximately two o’clock, my lord.”
Nearly four hours. Four hours of Sophia facing his mother without him there to protect her.
“Where is she now?”
“The drawing room, my lord. She’s been—” Grimshaw hesitated. “She’s been quite composed, my lord. Very dignified. But I thought you should know.”
Henry didn’t wait to hear more. He strode down the corridor toward the drawing room, his wet boots leaving tracks on the polished floor.
She was standing by the window, her back to the door, her posture rigid. Even from behind, he could see the tension in her shoulders.
“Sophia.”
She turned, and the relief that flooded her face made his chest ache. In three strides he was across the room, pulling her into his arms.
“Henry.” Her voice broke on his name. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Are you all right?” He pulled back just enough to see her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, though she wasn’t crying now. “Did she hurt you? What did she say?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” But her voice was shaky. “She’s… She’s exactly as you described. Worse, perhaps.”
“Tell me everything.” He guided her to the sofa, keeping her hand firmly in his. “Every word. I need to know what she said to you.”
Sophia took a breath and recounted it all—Constance’s arrival, the cutting comments about the house, the implications about Sophia trapping Henry, the poisonous remarks about the staff. “She managed to insult Mrs. Bromley, Grimshaw and Mrs. Mills within the first five minutes of her visit.”
With every sentence, Henry’s fury grew.
“She called it a coup,” Sophia said. “Said I’d been planning to catch you. That I was manipulative and calculating.”
“That’s rich, coming from her.” Henry’s hands clenched.
“She is here to win. I could see it in her eyes. I just don’t know what she intends to win.”
“She hates that she can’t control me. That’s what this is really about.” Henry pulled her close again, resting his chin on top of her head. “I’m so sorry. I knew they might come, I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”
“You had business to attend to. You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have been here to protect you.” He felt the anger burning in his chest—at his mother for coming, at himself for leaving Sophia vulnerable, at the whole damnable situation. “Where are they now?”
“The blue suite. Resting before dinner.”
“Have they seen Amelia?” Henry asked.
“Yes, I had Lucy bring her down for a visit. Your mother, despite insisting she see her, was cold to Amelia. She looked at her as if she were assessing livestock.” Sophia bit her lip. “I don’t want her near Amelia. Not after what you told me about how she treated her own daughter. The child must be protected.”
“Agreed. We’ll supervise any interaction very closely.” He let go of his wife, striding over to pour himself a glass of fortifying brandy. “May I get you a sherry, my love?”
“Yes, please.”
Henry poured her a drink and then led them both over to the settee by the fire. “What exactly did she say to insult our staff.”
“She said the house looked shabby, implying Grimshaw and Mrs. Bromley were not doing their jobs well. And that Mrs. Mills’s biscuits are hard. All of which deeply offended me. We have the best staff in all of England. It pains me to know that Grimshaw heard what she said.”
“She’s just finding ways to criticize the running of the house. It nearly killed her to see it go to me.”
“She cannot take it from us, can she?”
“Absolutely not. As much as she wishes otherwise, she has no power. Anyway, you’re my wife. The rightful Lady Montrose. This is your home.” He stroked her creamy cheek with the pad of his thumb. “My mother has no claim here. None. The estate went to me through the entail, exactly as the law prescribes. She’s bitter about it, but that doesn’t give her any rights.”
