Lady Sophie's Christmas Wish - By Grace Burrowes Page 0,101
it was, nobody said a word about it afterward. Tell me about this baby of yours.”
Sophie turned her back on her sister, ostensibly to rearrange things on the vanity tray. Vim had used that brush on her hair.
“You’re being nosy, Mags.”
And now Maggie was beside her, her expression hard to read. Maggie was the second born, a half sibling like St. Just, and her mother’s influence showed in flaming red hair, more height than any other Windham sister, and an occasional display of temper.
“You changed this child’s napkin, Sophie Windham—many times. Her Grace is a devoted mother, but I am willing to bet my favorite boar hog she never changed dirty linen for any of you.”
Siblings were the very devil when a woman needed some privacy to regain her composure.
“Needs must,” Sophie said softly, blinking at her hairbrush.
“It isn’t just this dratted baby, is it?” Maggie gently took the brush from Sophie’s grip. “You’ve gone and fallen in love with Sindal, and all over a basket of dirty laundry.”
“It wasn’t quite like that.” It was exactly like that, and on the carpet in the servants’ parlor, no less.
“I overheard the boys talking. St. Just was muttering something about Sophie’s mad scheme and that idiot Sindal. Did something happen, Soph?”
Maggie, being the duke’s oldest daughter and illegitimate, had not had an easy road. When she’d turned thirty, she’d moved into her own household in Town. This had created a paradoxical opportunity for closeness between the sisters, allowing Maggie’s pretty little house to become a place of refuge for her younger siblings.
“I don’t know what to do.” Sophie picked up the brush again, then put it down and reached for a handkerchief neatly folded on the vanity tray. Vim’s handkerchief—how had she come by this? She brought it to her nose, caught a whiff of bergamot, and began to cry.
“Damn all men forever to a place in hell so cold their nasty bits shrivel up and fall off,” Maggie muttered. She slid her arm around Sophie’s waist and walked her to the chaise by the hearth. “Shall I have the boys deal with Baron Sindal? They all love a good scrap, even Westhaven, though he’ll think it’s unbecoming of the Moreland heir to gang up on a man or even go at him one at time. They’ll likely draw straws, and Dev and Gayle will rig it so Valentine’s hands—”
“Stop it, Maggie. You must not aggravate the menfolk,” Sophie said, laying her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Sindal offered for me, but it wasn’t…”
Maggie brushed Sophie’s hair back, hugging her where they sat on the chaise. “It wasn’t an offer of marriage?”
Sophie shook her head. “Not at first. I let him think I was a h-housekeeper, or a companion, or something, and I wanted…”
“You wanted him.”
Sophie pulled away a little. “Not just him. I wanted a man who loved me, Mags. A man who wanted to be with me, and Vim seemed so…”
“Oh, they all seem so when the moon is full and passion is in the air. I at least hope you enjoyed this lapse?”
Sophie’s head came up at this question. It wasn’t at all what she would have expected from socially retiring, financially minded, no-nonsense Maggie. “I did, Mags. I enjoyed it immensely.”
A nonplussed expression flitted across Maggie’s pretty features. “So what is the problem? He acquitted himself adequately in the manner you desired, and now you can have him to keep if you want. It requires only a word to bring him up to scratch.”
“He isn’t the man I wished for, though he was very definitely the man I desired.”
Maggie sat back, a frown gathering between her brows. “Desire isn’t a bad thing, Sophie Windham, particularly not between spouses. Many a marriage goes stale for lack of it.”
This wasn’t like any conversation Sophie had had with her older sister. It was both uncomfortable and a relief, to speak so openly about such a delicate subject. “You’ve been married so many times you can speak with authority?”
“I’ve been propositioned so many times by other women’s husbands, men who think questionable birth and red hair mean I’ll be grateful for any man’s attentions.”
“Oh, Mags.” Sophie hugged her sister. “I’ve been so wrapped up in myself these past few years. I am sorry.”
“Since Bart and Victor died, since the boys started marrying, since His Grace’s heart seizure, we’ve all been a little bit widdershins.” Maggie sighed and rested her chin on Sophie’s temple. “I think you’re being narrow-minded where Sindal is concerned.”