Knowing who everyone was didn’t make the scene less intimidating. She fleetingly wished Jonas was there to support her but then was glad he was absent. This conversation could go many ways, and though Jonas was mild mannered compared to other men, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw aside his new job and defend her.
Not that she thought anyone here meant her harm, but their loyalty was—and should be—with Aaron. She licked her lips. “I’m sorry. I’ve nothing to add. The only place I know of is his cottage, and I’m assuming you’ve checked there.”
The potential implications of her knowing where his home was entered her mind too late to stop the sentence. Embarrassment heated her cheeks, but no one else seemed to care. They’d all moved on to other possibilities.
Lord Farnsworth started pacing. “He wouldn’t have gone to his rooms in London, would he?”
Lord Wharton leaned on the back of a chair, his head turning to follow his friend. “I’ve never known him to go without at least one of us being in Town.”
Aaron had rooms in London? As in a residence he paid for all the time but only used occasionally? Wasn’t that expensive? While his cottage was cozy and comfortable, it was hardly the abode of a man who could afford to keep rooms in another city, much less London.
Did she know him at all?
Lady Adelaide stepped forward. “Breakfast has been laid out in the dining room. Perhaps we could move this conversation there?”
Lady Wharton pushed off the settee and wrapped an arm around her rounded middle. “We would certainly not mind eating.”
Her husband coughed out a laugh. “You never mind eating.”
“It’s your child’s fault, you know.”
“I do.” Lord Wharton hugged his wife to his side and kissed her on the head. “I also know everything is going to be that poor child’s fault for at least the next ten years.”
Lady Wharton sniffed but didn’t deny the claim.
Tension flowed beneath the civility of food and conversation. Once in a while the talk would turn to speculation of Aaron’s whereabouts. Inevitably, someone would comment that the man had been taking care of himself for years and everyone’s concern was needless. That it was someone different pointing it out each time amused Sophia even as it worried her.
Breakfast was interrupted by the butler stepping in to address Lord Trent. “My lord, there is a lad here who says he has an urgent message that must be delivered straight into the recipient’s hand.”
Lord Trent frowned and started to rise.
The butler cleared his throat. “The letter is not for you, sir. It’s for Miss Fitzroy.”
Every eye in the room swung toward Sophia.
“Is it the boy from the inn?” Miss Snowley asked.
“Yes, miss.”
“Finally,” she said on a sigh, exchanging glances with Miss Hancock. “You might as well send him in. I’m guessing he has more than one letter to deliver.”
“Why would you think that?” Lord Wharton asked.
“Because Aaron sent me a letter before he left town and said it would make more sense in a day or two. I would surmise it’s time for the rest of the puzzle pieces to be placed.”
A beat of silence preceded the ruckus of voices.
Miss Snowley crossed her arms and lifted her chin in the air, looking entirely unrepentant about remaining silent. Miss Hancock beamed, glancing about as if they were putting on the best show ever.
Lord Trent wore an expression of similar amusement. After a few moments of chaos, he lifted his hand, and the room stumbled into a tense restraint. He nodded to the butler. “Send the boy in but give us a minute first.”
The servant departed with a nod.
Lord Wharton was the first to speak. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Because Aaron asked me not to,” Miss Snowley said. “Pleasant as you all seem to be, I’ve known him a sight longer than I’ve known any of you.”
Sophia had to applaud that reason, but why would Aaron contact no one other than Miss Snowley?
Sophia glanced at Lord Stildon to see if he was battling the same frisson of jealousy she was.
“Besides,” Miss Snowley continued, “I did tell someone. I told Harriet.”
Miss Hancock smiled. “Of course you contacted me. This lot wouldn’t have been the least bit of help.”
“What did he ask you to do?” Lord Stildon asked.
“Pack a trunk.”
He laid his fork down slowly. “Are you traveling?”
“I didn’t pack it for me.”
The butler showed the boy in. His wide eyes looked around the table before he pulled out a handful of folded letters. “Blimey, are you all here?”
“Perhaps you should start with Miss Fitzroy’s letter and then go through the stack?” Miss Snowley suggested.
The boy nodded. “I’m supposed to put it directly in her hand.” He swallowed and eased farther into the room. “This one’s for you, Miss Fitzroy.”
“Thank you.” Sophia bit her lip as she reached out to accept it. “I’m afraid I haven’t any coin—”
“I’m not supposed to take one even if you do,” the boy said in a rush. “Mr. Whitworth took care of everything.”
“So it would seem.” Sophia opened the note with more than a little trepidation. She mumbled to herself, “Aaron, what did you do?”
The letter was short, but the ache it brought was enormous.
Dear Miss Fitzroy,
The formality of the greeting alone brought tears to her eyes.
Despite your performance, I’m afraid tying your introduction to me has made it impossible for you to gain the respect your abilities deserve. I cannot let you throw away your passion when you deserve so much more.
Mrs. Carlton’s School for Girls is in need of a riding instructor. You’ll start as soon as you can get to London. They have one of the finest reputations in England, and you will only add to the quality of lady they turn out.
Don’t worry about logistics. The boy from the inn has other letters to deliver once he’s given you this express. Those letters should arrange everything you need. It may take a day or two for it all to come together, but I trust everything will happen.
Once your brother is healed, I’ll help him find a job near you. Perhaps he can even work in the school’s stable.
You deserve your dreams, Sophia.
He hadn’t signed it, but it was clearly from Aaron. She looked up to find everyone staring at her. Some held open letters of their own.
Miss Snowley cleared her throat. “There’s a trunk waiting for you. It isn’t much. A few of my old riding habits and a couple of dresses, including the one you’re wearing. Six in total, I believe. And boots.”
That was twice her current wardrobe. Sophia swallowed.
“Harriet and I spent yesterday altering them according to the measurements she took last time.”
Sophia’s grip tightened, causing the paper in her hand to crinkle. How was she to respond to such generosity?
Lord Farnsworth held up a note. “I’m to pay your way to London on the mail coach, but he doesn’t say why.” He looked to Lady Rebecca. “What does yours say?”
“That he’ll be back in Newmarket in time for the wedding but understands if I would rather he not attend.” She looked up at her fiancé and frowned. “Apparently he’ll come up with an excuse so that you don’t have to know I was uncomfortable with his presence.” She scoffed. “As if we would even be getting married if not for him.”