Free The Temporary Betrothal by Lily George Page A

embarrassed, furious or
grateful—or some combination of all three.
    Charlie directed her toward the stone steps that led down to
the sidewalk. “Are you enjoying working for Bradbury?” he inquired in a polite
tone.
    “Yes. Amelia and Louisa are sweet girls. And Lucy is a dear
friend. She almost makes up for the loss of Harriet.” She let it slip before she
thought about it. Why would Cantrill care about her feelings of homesickness? He
was, after all, only showing his good manners by asking such a feeble
question.
    “You are very close to your family.” It was a statement, rather
than a question. She glanced up at his profile, but he was locked away in his
own thoughts, his jaw clenched tightly as a fist.
    “Yes. But that brings me to your problem, Lieutenant. How well
I know the conflict you feel with your family. I’ve battered my brains about it
long enough. I think I may have the perfect solution to your mother’s
edicts.”
    * * *
    The pressure of her hand resting in the crook of his
elbow sent a wave of fire down his mutilated arm. He sucked in his breath.
Sophie was powerful, more so than she was probably aware, even if she enjoyed
flirting. But this wasn’t the action of a coquette. Her dark blue eyes—so blue
they were nearly black, with a fringe of sooty lashes—held a spark of
understanding and empathy. He warmed to that spark, longed to kindle the
blaze.
    “Really, Miss Handley, you don’t have to come to my rescue. I
was just teasing, you know. As a grown man, I can well handle my own
mother.”
    “Oh, I know you can.” She led him down a few stone steps. “But
defying one’s family can be quite difficult. I believe in you. I believe that
the work you do is good. And I should hate for it to cease just because your
mother and brother feel you should be living the life of a Society buck. I wish
they could understand, as I do, all that you are doing to help others.”
    He had to turn away. When she looked up like that, tender and
beseeching, he was hard-pressed to remember that she was just being nice. As a
family friend. And she had the soul of a flirt. It wasn’t as if she really cared
for him, as mutilated as he was. Hang it all, she had spurned John when he
returned from the war, after he lost his leg. Why would she feel any differently
toward him?
    He cleared his throat to steady himself and buy a little time
to craft an articulate response. “I can’t judge them, you know. They feel I
should be more concerned about Society—that is all. Going to balls, having a
proper calling that supplies a reasonable income. Living in a poky flat in Bath,
preferring to live simply and to help poor veterans—well, that kind of lifestyle
is rather a slap in the face to their mode of living.”
    “I see.” She finally dropped her hand from his elbow, but the
imprint of her touch still burned like a furnace. “So they feel you should be
doing things more in keeping with what other men in Society do. Drinking,
gambling, making piles of money in a position you don’t love....”
    “Courting the ladies,” he added, then halted. Heat flooded his
face—why had he brought that up? It was beyond ridiculous to mention, especially
in light of his all too recent humiliation, courtesy of Beth Gaskell.
    Sophie frowned, her dimples deepening. “And that is the reason
we must strike a compromise. Tell me—are you ready to hear my plan?”
    “I suppose so.” He sighed. “But I won’t drink or play cards.
More’s the pity, they say.”
    “Of course not. But you could court the ladies. More
specifically, me.”

Chapter Eight
    A t Cantrill’s shocked expression, Sophie
swallowed and rushed on. She glanced up at him, her face aglow with excitement.
“We could pretend to be courting, you and I. Only whilst your mother is here.
That should give her enough hope that you are done with your austere ways, and
perhaps she will leave you in peace a bit longer.”
    That had been the plan all along—in the back of