There was no arguing with Sophia. “Of course I will tell you.” But how? That was the question. “Let’s find a place to sit. It may take some time.”
Sophia strode over to the wooden rocking chair and sat down in one smooth, graceful movement. Anthony shook his head and reached for a small wooden child’s chair near the children. He slid it over to Sophia and sat down across from her. He had to look up at her from his low-perched position. Only Sophia and their father could make him feel so much like a child.
“As you know, Miss Morgan and I have been hoping to marry for over two years.”
“Everyone knows that, Anthony. You may skip over that part.”
And so he did. He skipped over the part that this was Miss Morgan’s plan, and he skipped over the part about how he barely knew this maid he had employed. The more parts he skipped, the more he worried this plan was perhaps not the best route, but it was time to take action. There were times when doing something was more important than doing the very best thing.
Sophia was quiet as she listened to him ramble on. Very quiet. When he finished, she leaned forward, making him feel even more like a child, towering over him in his little chair.
“And whose idea was this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Whose idea was it for you to bring a maid to a ball and use her as a decoy to make Mr. and Mrs. Morgan worry that they will lose you?”
“Well, the maid part was my idea.”
“Because you wouldn’t want to lead on a lady, I assume. That part makes sense, I suppose. But the rest was Miss Morgan’s.”
Anthony didn’t answer. Sophia would know by his silence.
“And how long have you known this maid? Is she trustworthy?”
Blast the woman. How had she known exactly which answers would be the most damning? “She has been in Father’s employ for less than a year, but I find her trustworthy.”
“Which means she must be beautiful.”
This was outrageous. Anthony stood from his chair. He was tired of feeling like a child. “Her looks had nothing to do with my decision.”
“Is she homely then? You picked a homely maid to distract all of London?”
“No, she isn’t homely. She is, as you said, quite beautiful, but it wasn’t her looks that gave me the idea.” Anthony looked about the room in an effort to grab hold of something. He was floundering, and he knew it. “She has a way about her. She doesn’t act like a maid. She doesn’t even speak like a maid. Her family must have had a setback later in life. You will have a chance to get to know her. I have asked her to help you with the children. It will serve as an excuse when I need her help.”
Sophia was quiet. She slowly rocked back and forth in the chair. “So that is why you asked me not to bring the nurse. It is all coming together now.”
“Good,” Anthony said, hoping this meant their discussion could be over. “I take it you will assist me, then.” If he acted as confident as Sophia, perhaps she would agree with him.
“On one condition.”
Blast these women and their conditions. He would be paying for these few weeks of deception for years to come.
“What is your condition?”
“If this hairbrained idea of yours doesn’t work, you should move on from Miss Morgan. Don’t worry about marriage for a year, at least, and then try again at that time.”
“A year! Miss Morgan could be married in a year.”
Sophia stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm. He started—the Woodsworths didn’t touch. Not in the middle of a conversation, at least. “I don’t mean take a break and then try again with Miss Morgan. I meant that you could try again with some other young woman. One that is better suited to you.”
“Miss Morgan is perfectly suited to me.”
“She is suited to Papa and what he wants. Perhaps she is even suited to what you think Mama would have wanted. But Mama isn’t here, and if Papa is so determined to have Miss Morgan’s Scottish title and her fortune in the family, let him marry her. You go find a woman that actually suits you.”
“I can prove she does. I have a list.” Anthony would show her. He had worked on that lists for weeks before he’d settled on Miss Morgan.
“Oh, devil take that list of yours, Anthony. Do