Page 16 of A Holiday By Gaslight

Was it any wonder he needed his daughters to marry into money?

“What prompted this change of mind?” Ned asked. “Was it your parents?”

“No. Though they weren’t best pleased with me. My father bellowed until he was red in the face. And my mother, she—” Miss Appersett broke off. Her brow furrowed, her gloved hands clasped tight in her lap. “You must understand, Mr. Sharpe. Girls in my situation hardly ever marry for love. We haven’t that luxury. We marry for comfort and security.”

“And to benefit your family.”

She didn’t deny it. There was no reason to do so. They both knew why her father had permitted him to court her. “If we’re lucky, we come to respect our husbands. To like them, even.”

“But you don’t like me. As we’ve established.”

“I don’t know you. Which is why I came today, ill-advised as my visit was. I thought, if we could just talk. If we could just dispense with all of the stifling formality. I thought there was a chance that I’d been mistaken. About us being ill-suited, I mean. After all, I had no way of knowing—” She broke off. “Good heavens. How I’m rambling on.” She turned back to the carriage window. “I promised myself, if we ever met again, I wouldn’t talk so much.”

“Did you?” He could see her face reflected in the glass, pale and solemn. “I always enjoyed the sound of your voice.”

“You certainly heard enough of it.”

The carriage rolled to a halt with a jolt and a clatter of hooves. Ned glanced out the window. It was difficult to make anything out in the fog, but it appeared that John Coachman had taken them to the mews. A discreet and sensible fellow. Ned wouldn’t have credited it.

“Is this all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “There’s a gate at the end of the garden.”

The carriage rocked as the footman clambered down from the box. A second later, he was at the door. Ned heard him clear his throat.

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye,” Miss Appersett said. “Unless…”

Unless. There was a wealth of meaning in the word. It was chance and opportunity, risk and possible reward. It was also an olive branch of a sort. All he need do was reach out and take it. Ned swallowed his pride. “What would you like me to do, Miss Appersett?”

Some of the tension went out of her face. He hadn’t realized it was there until it was gone.

Good Lord, had she really believed he’d deny her? If so, she’d vastly underrated her charms. Either that or vastly overrated his strength of will.

She lowered her voice. “Firstly, I would like you to call me Sophie.”

Sophie. His heart thumped hard. “And secondly?”

“I would like you to come to Appersett House for Christmas, as we originally planned.”

The footman rapped lightly on the outside of the carriage door. “Sir?”

They must be in danger of drawing attention. A legitimate concern, but for the moment Ned didn’t care. He held Sophie Appersett’s gaze. “Very well,” he said brusquely. “Is there a thirdly?”

Her dark brows knit. The tension and worry were back. The visible uncertainty about her future and about the future of her family. But there was something more there now. A glimmer of hope in her chocolate brown eyes that gave him hope in return. “That all depends,” she said, “on what happens in Derbyshire.”

Derbyshire, England

December, 1861

Sophie gazed out the rain-streaked window of the railway car. The passing scenery was bleak and wet and oh so familiar. She knew this part of the Derbyshire countryside like the back of her hand.

In a half hour, they would arrive at the modest station in the village of Milton St. Edmunds. From there, the family carriage would convey them to the lush—and quite isolated—valley where Appersett House had resided in stately splendor since the turn of the sixteenth century. Papa had sent a wire from Waterloo Station. All should be in readiness for them.

She shifted in her seat, striving for a more comfortable position. Emily’s head was heavy on her shoulder. Sophie dared not wake her. Her sister had only just been lulled to sleep by the motion of the train, drifting off against Sophie’s side mid-complaint. Sophie had no doubt that, if awakened, she’d resume her litany of misery without missing a beat.

The Christmas party was ruined, or so Emily had been insisting since they departed London.

For once, she wasn’t exaggerating.