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“Do not be daft. You just doled out advice to me throughout the day. You forced me to go confront Richard about the note and just persuaded me I was in love with the man, despite my resistance to the news. You have plenty of backbone.”

“But … I want to find a genuine connection with a man. I do not wish to be pressured into marriage, but I do not know how to stand up to Mama without hurting her feelings. She wants what is best for me, but her ideas are old-fashioned and too rooted in society’s expectations.”

“Uncle Hugh will never force you to marry a man you do not want. Just stay strong and wait for the right gentleman.”

“I am not as wily as you, cousin. She will get the best of me.”

“This is a silly conversation. Lily, you are just as clever as I am. Just prepare yourself to contend with her demands. Think of what her arguments are and prepare counter-arguments. When dealing with Aunt Christiana, I usually find that distraction is the best technique. You have observed me doing just that for three Seasons. Lord Francis Bacon once wrote that knowledge is power. You must use your knowledge of Aunt Christiana, but do not engage in direct debate with her because it invariably does not work.”

Lily’s mouth hung open in astonishment. “How did you discover all this?”

“I read a book by a Chinese general that was translated into French. Would you like me to find it for you?” Sophia gestured toward the annex behind them where the shelving was laden with heavy tomes.

Lily nodded, an expression of awe on her face as Sophia scrambled to her feet to search for the volume. “You were applying military tactics to my mother? You are such a bluestocking, cousin.”

“Nay, I study what I need to know. I am not interested in study for study’s sake. I must have a question to answer before I will plow through these sedate books. I found L’Art de la Guerre in my first Season when the pressure to marry was causing me distress.” Sophia looked back to find her cousin’s face pinched into a puzzled frown. “It means The Art of War, Lily. You will need to brush up on your French if you wish to employ military strategy, but your instincts are excellent. I will find a dictionary to assist you.”

She mounted the library steps to pull leather-bound books from the shelves, then set them on the table for her cousin to read.

Shortly after that, they said their goodbyes. Sophia stood outside near to the family carriage that had brought her from Balfour Terrace. She hesitated on the steps of the Morelands’ home and stared at the Saunton coat of arms gilded on the carriage door, thinking about the current state of her relationship with Richard.

Lily was right. It was time to make an effort at a proper discussion. She needed to stop playing games and tackle their issues directly. This was a marriage they were building, and it would not do to use wily misdirection and military tactics with her husband, or pose tests without his knowledge.

Sophia hovered on the steps in a state of bemusement, hugging herself in the chilled night air. She admitted to herself that she had brought the accumulated disappointments of her past and laid them at Richard’s feet while he struggled to protect her and his son. Every time her charming father had made a promise—only to break it when he disappeared for days into his gambling hells to fetter away their income—in those reoccurring moments, she had realized she could not trust her beloved father, and that his words were empty of intent. Those final days, she had decided to grow up far too young and accept that he was irresponsible and would never change. And then came the night they were informed of his untimely death while sitting at a card table. All had taken residence in her mind, taunting her, challenging her to devise tests to disprove Richard’s sincerity.

“Milady?”

Her husband was mostly blameless. He was ashamed that his past was haunting their present and had withheld some information to protect his pride and ease her worries, and in return, she had set him a test without his knowledge to prove to herself that he would fail.

“Milady?”

Sophia chewed on her lip, lost deep in the memories. She had not intended to compare her husband to her glib father, but she had done it all the same. It was not well done of her; the earl did not know what—or whom—he was being measured against, which meant Lily was right. She was being dishonest with him.

“Milady?”

Sophia returned to the present to find her footman gazing at her with perplexed concern. She realized the liveried servant had attempted to gain her attention several times.

“I wish to return home. To Balfour Terrace.”

The footman appeared puzzled by this specification, but Sophia paid no heed. She had reached a decision.

I shall sit Richard down and talk to him honestly. Share my concerns, so we can reach an understanding.

Her mind made up, she gathered her skirts in one hand and accepted the gloved hand of the footman with the other to step up through the open door of the carriage. When the shorter John climbed in behind her, she accepted it without resentment. Her husband was taking strenuous action to defend her, and it was time she acknowledged the concern he was displaying. They would need to talk and come to terms, but this time she would not get frustrated with him. She was confident that if they worked together, they could find a solution to navigate the danger they were living under.

Richard visited with Ethan in the nursery and read him a story, then returned downstairs at dinnertime to wait for his wife, until Radcliffe informed him that her ladyship had left for the evening. He had not expected to be so disappointed by this news, but it was the first time since they married that they were not taking their evening meal together.

Sitting in his study, nursing a fragile china cup of tea—blech—he thought about what she had said earlier that day. Perry concurred with her conclusion that it was safer for her and Ethan to remain in town rather than undertake a long journey.

Perhaps she had a point. Mayhap he had not involved her sufficiently, and treated her like a coddled child. But he had never confided in a woman before. This was all so new to him. Perhaps she needed to be more patient with him.

He stared down into his murky tea, wishing it was a fine French brandy, and admitted to himself that perhaps he was not making the effort that he should. If she left him to return to her family, as Perry suggested, he would be utterly lost. Why this was, he could not fathom. They had known each other for less than three weeks, but he grew mawkish at the thought of her absence. He did not want to send her away, truth be told. He wanted to eat dinner with her in the evenings before joining her in her bedchamber. The decision to send her to Saunton Park had been reached because, more important than his time in her company, he wanted her to remain alive.

He could not believe how much he missed her at this moment, merely because she had abandoned him to dinner on his own. The only conclusion he could draw was that he now looked forward to the nightly ritual in her company, only to have it yanked away because of his own failure to include her.

When she returned home from her family, if she returned home, he would do better. And if she did not return home, he would haunt the Abbott household every moment of every day until she agreed to come home.

BANG.