The Temporary Betrothal. Lily George

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СКАЧАТЬ the pews. “Come, I’ll introduce you,” he said, hurrying her up the aisle toward the altar.

      “Reverend,” he called as they drew near. “Gentlemen, I have a new representative here with me.”

      Reverend Stephens motioned for silence and gave a friendly smile to Sophie. “So I see,” he responded gently. “Welcome, my child.”

      Sophie curtsied. “Thank you, Reverend.”

      Charlie grasped her shoulders and turned her slightly so she was facing the group of veterans. A larger group than usual today—nearly fifteen men. The good weather must have made it possible for more to come.

      “Gentlemen, ladies, Reverend Stephens,” he called, making sure his voice carried to the back of the church. “With me today is Miss Sophie Handley, newly arrived in Bath. Miss Handley is the younger sister of Mrs. Harriet Brookes, whose book about Waterloo is making a sensation across England.”

      The crowd applauded politely, and several women leaned forward as if to hear him better.

      “As you may know, Mrs. Brookes has donated the proceeds of the sale of her book to our group.”

      Many people gasped, turning awe-stricken faces to his. Well, this was the first time he’d made the announcement publicly. And it was a very generous thing Harriet had done. The looks on their faces made him break into a grin. How they would put that money to good use.

      “Miss Handley is working for Lord Bradbury in town, but has agreed to be her sister’s representative here in Bath. Anything that we want to do as a group, Miss Handley will work to make sure it can happen. Please think of her as you do me—as a friend, a confidante and a colleague.” He turned his grin to Sophie, who was looking up at him with wide blue eyes. “I trust her. And I know that, together, our veterans’ group can make a real difference in everyone’s lives.”

      The group erupted in applause, several of the men whistling and stamping their feet. Sophie blushed prettily and bobbed a little curtsy before the crowd. He nodded at her, as if to say, “Go on, say something,” but her rosy color deepened and she shook her curls quickly.

      He shrugged. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he replied in an undertone. “But I must get started working with the men. Do you want to talk to the women and children?”

      “Yes, of course.” She moved to the back of the sanctuary, and disappeared as the veterans began to swarm around Charlie, talking about Harriet’s generous donation and how they should use the funds.

      He spoke with the men for a good hour without taking a break. There was a private who had a wife and a small baby, but he had been blinded and couldn’t earn an income. How were they to survive? And then a smaller group of veterans with missing limbs, who complained that the colder-than-average spring was making it difficult to move about. For the blind veteran, Charlie withdrew a stipend of fifty pounds, all he could afford until Harriet’s money began trickling in. And for the others, they came up with a schedule of therapy involving taking the waters on a twice-weekly basis.

      He spent most of his time with a young ensign, the former scion of a wealthy family, who had braved the battlefield at a very early age, and become mute from the experience. The lad could write down a few words, and Charlie could scratch out words on foolscap, though it was hard to hold down the page with his prosthesis so he could write fluently with his right hand. From their exchange, he was able to ascertain that the lad needed help—regular conversation, even if he just listened as someone else spoke. But whom, and when? Ah, that was the problem. He would find some way to help Rowland, but it might take time.

      When he finally had a moment’s pause, he looked anxiously down the pews to see how Sophie was faring. He hadn’t meant to leave her alone for so long. Was she beside herself with nervousness and anxiety? No, quite the contrary. She was sitting in the back of the sanctuary on the floor, with two children in her lap. A group of widows were gathered around her, talking quietly. Sophie was listening intently, replying with a soft word here or a nod there. Her spencer was long gone, as was her bonnet, both strewn across a pew with abandon. As he watched the tableau, a child reached up and touched one of her bobbing curls, which made her laugh.

      His heart pounded gratefully. She seemed to be coming along very well. In fact, she seemed to have already won the trust of those widows—women who’d barely spoken two words to him before, who kept their eyes cast down and their lips compressed in thin lines when he asked how he could help them. She was going to be an extraordinary asset.

      As the church bell tolled the lunch hour, the group began to drift apart. After shaking hands with a few of the departing veterans, and after expressing his thanks to the reverend, Charlie started up the aisle to retrieve Sophie.

      She smiled as he helped her back into her spencer, and bent to kiss one of the little girls on the cheek as she left. Then she tied on her bonnet and took his arm decisively. He sucked in his breath a little at the feeling of Sophie next to him. She had such vibrancy, such life about her. His existence, so gray and dull until he met her, now pulsed with color. She would assuredly make a man very happy someday.

      She exhaled sharply, blowing out a puff of air as they left the church, turning her head up to the sky.

      “Are you tired? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long,” he apologized.

      “Not at all. I think I got on very well with many of the women. And the children were darlings,” she replied, grasping the crook of his elbow more firmly as he led her down the steps. “I think the women need money,” she added in an undertone. “Many have no means of income, and several have children to care for. Without a steady flow of money, some of them have been reduced—or nearly so—to rather desperate circumstances.”

      Just as he suspected. He stopped, turning to face her. “You will help me, then? These women, they respond to you. Together, we can help keep them from turning to occupations that are beneath them.”

      She gazed deeply into his eyes. “Of course I will help you, Lieutenant. Did I not already promise to?”

      “Yes, you did. I just wondered if, once you saw how things were—”

      “That I would gather up my skirts and flee in horror?” She gave a modest chuckle. “Surely I am better than that.”

      He couldn’t bear the challenge in those blue eyes any longer. He directed their steps back toward the street. “I do need your help with one other matter. There’s a young ensign, named Rowland, who is mute. I think conversation—even just listening to someone read aloud from a book—could help him. Do you think you can help me find someone willing to take that on?”

      Sophie smiled, her dimples deepening. “I know just the perfect person, Lieutenant.”

      Chapter Five

      Thank goodness she had gotten an advance on her salary. Sophie sat, cradling her teacup in her hands, observing the hustle and bustle as shoppers filed in and out of Molland’s. She needed a fortifying meal and a few moments’ peace after her chaotic morning. Even though she feigned courage for the lieutenant, her emotions were deeply shaken. She picked up her watercress sandwich with shaking hands and savored one delicious bite.

      Her entire family had been cast into poverty when Papa died. But Sophie never realized how very dreadful poverty could be. Of course, it meant making over Mama’s old court dresses rather than enjoying new frocks. And it СКАЧАТЬ