Lord Trowbridge's Angel (Six Rogues and Their Ladies #5)

“I was watching Frank’s face. It was no trouble. He was exultant! When you love someone, their happiness is what makes you happy. He did this out of love for you, Sophie.”


She put a hand to her forehead. “Never was there such a confusing character as Frank’s. This man is the one I fell in love with. But how do I know that tomorrow he will not be up to another outrageous start?”

“I can tell you from personal experience, dearest, change comes in fits and starts. Frank’s years as a man of leisure have a pull on him. It is called entropy. But he is obviously making an effort to show you the person he is capable of being. It is a process. I saw Buck go through it. I experienced it myself. This kind of change is only motivated by love, Sophie. Frank does love you.”

Sophie made a fist and clutched it over her heart. “I do not want to believe it, Fanny. Not when he is engaged to Melissa. It is much easier to put him out of my life.”

“I can understand that. But I have learned never to underestimate the power of love. Look at me. Look at Elise. We married men who never thought they would marry. And both Peter and Buck are entirely satisfactory.” Fanny blushed. “I assure you!”

~~*

Sophie was diligent in her new regime. She also improved daily in her mastery of the violin part in the Archduke trio. However, when Frank did not appear for the following four days, she realized she was regretting her little speech of rejection. Perhaps he had completely resigned himself to marrying Melissa. The irony of it all was that she no longer doubted that Frank loved her.





{ 36 }



FRANK WAS EXPERIENCING a very difficult time staying away from Sophie while still trying to think of ways to prove to her that his love was genuine and that it was changing him for the better. One afternoon, when he was a guest at Sophie’s Aunt Clarice’s for a board meeting to discuss progress on the girl’s orphanage, he was asked to remain for luncheon. There, he received glorious and unexpected news from Lady Susannah.

“I have wonderful tidings to impart,” she said over the cassoulet of chicken and vegetables. “Devonshire has managed the nigh impossible.”

“What has he done now?” Lady Clarice asked.

“He has tempted Wordsworth out of seclusion in the Lake District to come to London for a few days. He is going to give a reading, by invitation only.”

Frank gaped at her. “Wordsworth? Here?” It must be answer to prayer. “Do tell, Lady Susannah, how does one go about obtaining an invitation? It would not be too strong to say that I revere the man. As does Sophie.”

The little woman with the iron-gray sausage curls looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. “I am invited to bring a party of five. I would be delighted to include you and Sophie, Lord Trowbridge. We were given very short notice so that all of the ton might not descend on the man. He does not enjoy society and is of a retiring nature.”

“So when is the reading to be?” Frank asked.

“Two days hence. Saturday evening at Devonshire House. Clarice is coming, of course, and she suggested I invite Elise. So it will be quite a family party.”

“I cannot wait to inform Sophie. Thank you so much for mentioning it today. I declare, Providence is smiling on me through you, Lady Susannah!”

The little lady blushed. “I am so glad.”

~~*

Frank virtually flew to the Deal Townhouse following luncheon. He had not seen Sophie in four days. Before he gave Perkins his card, he wrote on it, “Wonderful news!”

When Sophie joined him in the downstairs sitting room, her face was lit candle-bright. “Oh Frank, is the engagement broken?”

“Oh, darling. I am sorry.” Going to her, he took her hands in his. “I do have good news, but unfortunately, the engagement is still intact.”

Her smiled dimmed.

“Can this mean you have reconsidered your decision that we do not suit?”

“Of course not,” Sophie said, raising her chin.” I am merely concerned for Melissa’s sake. I know that she does not want to marry you.”

Frank wanted to tell her that he was not such a flat as to believe that, and silently rejoiced.

“If you could have your choice of hearing the best poet in the Kingdom recite his verse, whom would you choose?” he asked.

“William Wordsworth. You know that.” She colored as soon as the words were out.

Frank chose diplomatically to ignore her self-consciousness.

Posing as a conjurer, he whipped the handkerchief out of his pocket and shook it before her. Pretending to draw something from it, he held out an empty hand as though it contained a treasure. “I have, in my gift, an invitation from his grace, the Duke of Devonshire, an invitation to a reading to be given by the esteemed poet, William Wordsworth, on Saturday evening. I beg that you will accompany me. Your sister Elise, as well as your Aunt Clarice, will be in attendance.”

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