The Discarded Wife Read online

  Sophie gasped and Alfie looked up at her with confusion. He'd clearly heard the statement. Turning to him, she crouched down. "Alfie, I think it's best you go inside and I will deal with this man. Go inside, now." Pulling the door key out of the pocket she had sewn into her waist, she gave it to him, and the boy grudgingly went inside, staring at the man.

  When the door close behind him, Sophie shifted her attention to Lord Aberley. Stepping forward to push on his chest with both of her hands. "How dare you say that to him? You have no right."

  Grabbing her wrists, he held them down. Pushing him had been an instinctive reaction. Now he had her wrists captive and they were standing much too close. He took up all the space; his scent lingered. A remote and vague familiarity from a time she had urged herself to forget. Not to mention the cold and mechanical intimacy they had engaged in. "He is my son."

  "He is not. His name is Alfie Duthie, and he was born—"

  "He is my spitting image. You have no right to deny me knowing my son."

  "You mean your heir," she said tartly, twisting her wrists, but he still wasn't letting them go.

  "And you have no right denying him knowing who his father is. You have no right," he repeated. "How would you feel if it was done to you?"

  In truth, she'd never thought about it that way. "I would understand if the aim had been to protect me."

  "Or is this simply bitterness?"

  "Bitterness for what?" she said at the absurdity.

  "For divorcing you."

  "No, absolutely not. It has to do with the character of the man you are."

  The grip on her wrist loosened, and she pulled her hands out, again shoving him as hard as she could. "Do not," he said, pointing at her and Sophie wanted to grab his finger and break it.

  "You have no right confusing him like that."

  "I have every right. Morally, you have an obligation to that boy."

  "Oh, obligation. You want to speak about obligations? I am obliged to ensure that boy's health and happiness. You seek to use him for your purposes."

  "You mean provide for him, educate him and give him the means for a comfortable future."

  "I am doing perfectly fine in all those regards," she said.

  "Surely you are jesting, or do you actually believe your own insanity?"

  A figure stopped by them. Mrs. Rawley, their elderly neighbor. "Are you alright, my dear?" she said, eyeing Lord Aberley harshly.

  "Do not interfere, madam," Aberley said tersely. "This is between me and my wife."

  Sophie gasped at the statement. For a moment her mind balked, then she turned to Mrs. Rawley with a placid smile. "I am not his wife," which probably didn't make this appear any better. "We are divorced."

  "And I am here about my son, which you deny me."

  "The man is delusional," Sophie said, trying to remain calm. This was not going to do her reputation any good in the neighborhood. In the window above, she could see Alfie staring down at them. What must he be thinking? Must be confused beyond words at this man he had never seen and hadn't even known existed, who had come and claimed he was his father. How could Aberley do this to them? "It is alright, Mrs. Rawley. I will deal with this."

  Mrs. Rawley eyed the man suspiciously before stepping inside the door to the building. There would be pointed questions about this to come for weeks.

  "You are the one who is delusional. I am not your wife. I have a long and happy marriage to a man who was not you."

  "It merely slipped out."

  "If this is your means of making my life intolerable, what I said before still stands. We will leave if we must."

  "What I say also stands. You have no right keeping the boy from me. No matter what you think of me, I am that boy’s father," he said, pointing up at the window. "And that is an association and a fact that has nothing to do with you. You cannot deny him that fact as much as you want to. He has a right to know."

  "Please leave," she said and for a moment, they stood there in silence, simply glaring at each other.

  "I am not giving up. That is my child and I am remiss in my duties to him if I let you relegate him to a life of poverty because you are bitter."

  "This has nothing to do with bitterness," she asserted sharply. "You divorcing me was the best thing that ever happened to me. Because of it, I met a lovely man, who was an excellent father to Alfie."

  "That man was never his father, and that man is dead, in case you hadn't noticed."

  Sophie growled in vexation. "Just leave us alone."

  "No," he said as Sophie went to walk into the door. His hand on her elbow held her back. "Whatever duties you have as a mother, I have the same as a father. You cannot simply cut me out of his life because you wish to. As a parent, you have an obligation to me."

  Sophie snorted and shook his grip off her elbow. Unfortunately, she knew there was something right about what he was saying. She had been so caught up in protecting Alfie from the man in front of her, she had not even considered it from Alfie's perspective. This man was his true father, and that had been revealed to him if she liked it or not. Still, she certainly didn't agree with it being called an obligation on her part. This man would not bring anything good into Alfie's life, but he was still the boy's father.

  There was so much she needed to explain when she got upstairs. Alfie must be so confused right now. "Fine, have it your way," she finally said, noting Mrs. Rawley was staring down at them from another window. "I will tell him exactly how you treat people, how our marriage fared and ended—with me thrown out without a word. And I will tell him exactly what your interest is in him. How you wish to bury him alone and unattended in a remote house without his mother, not much more than a well-appointed prison, without his friends or any of the other people who have been in his life. That you wish to turn him into another version of the cold and miserable person you are. Who is here for the sole reason that he cannot tolerate the idea of getting married and having another person in his life who he’s be forced to deal with. Perhaps he will understand why I have never mentioned you."

  The man simply stared at her. "He will never understand. That is not the relationship between fathers and sons."

  "What would you know about relationships?"

  "I know that sons want to know their fathers," he said emphatically. There was more to that statement than a mere utterance. Aberley looked away. For a moment, she had seen past the hard surface that was the man. "As opposed to what you think, I do not wish the boy misery."

  "Yet it has been a part of your proposal from the moment you turned up."

  "Perhaps some things I am willing to compromise on," he said and Sophie snorted. "Like the separation of mother and child."

  Balking confrontation that she would have to deal with him on a regular basis assaulted her. "No, go away," she said instinctively. This was too much to deal with. Please just go away, she pleaded inside her head, which was aching at this point. Without looking back, she ran inside the door. Why couldn't they just have the happiness they had? Why did this man have to charge into their lives like an irate elephant, crushing everything in his path?

  Chapter 14

  SOPHIE’S EYES WERE forever darting as she unlocked the door to the shop, as if that man would accost her with new and fanciful accusations at the drop of a hat. He seemed to come by unannounced any time he pleased.

  It didn’t matter. He would learn that she would not be bullied or in any way persuaded to bend to his will. It simply wasn’t going to happen.

  A boy appeared. “Message, miss.” A small note was in his hand and he wasn’t going to give it over until she paid him, so she picked out a tuppence from the hidden pocket in her dress.

  It had to be from Oliver, because Aberley would never make her pay for the messenger. It simply wasn’t in him to consider it.

  Taking the note, Sophie stepped inside the shop.

  Being arrested and taken to Coldbath Fields. I need your assistance.

  Dread crept up Sophie�
�s spine. So this had to be Aberley’s next move. The bastard. How could he do something so despicable. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do. Run to help Oliver, or go confront Aberley for being such a sniveling coward and attack her brother behind her back. If he wanted something, he could pull himself together and face her like a man. This was underhanded and despicable.

  No, she had to help Oliver first, but the sense of dread only intensified as she stepped out of the shop and locked it again. There would be no takings that day and it would hurt. Forever something seemed to want to interfere with her ability to earn a living. This was just the latest rendition.

  Waving down a hack, she got in and nervously waited for it to take her to what she knew was a debtor’s prison. Oliver would be beside himself—completely unable to cope with such a travesty.

  The hack dropped her at a visitor’s entrance. It seemed she wasn’t the first person he’d brought here, and she stood and looked up at the imposing brick building. It was a large rectangle with small, mean windows.

  A guard cleared his throat. “Move along,” he said sharply and Sophie felt as though she was being herded like cattle, following along the walkway, past a courtyard where carts were unloading cabbages. Sophie dreaded to think what kind of food Oliver would be served. He would perish from starvation.

  A man at a desk eyed her as she approached. “Prisoner name?” he asked.

  “Oliver Bancroft.”

  The man smiled slyly and Sophie suspected that Oliver had made a nuisance of himself, but these men were heartless to pleas. Probably enjoyed seeing someone like Oliver get his comeuppance. No sympathy here, she thought.

  The man nodded to another, who came and took her by the arm, leading her as if she were a prisoner herself. She wanted to shake him off, but at the same time not be rude in case it made these men take more pleasure in making Oliver’s life uncomfortable.

  She was taken to a heavy, iron door with a large key that the guard pulled from a substantial key ring. The lock turned heavily, grinding mechanisms echoing off the walls.

  Oliver was sitting by a small table inside. There was nothing other than a table and two chairs. Sophie rushed to him and they embraced. The fear and distress were clear on her brother’s face. For everything he was, she hated seeing him like this.

  “They arrested me,” he said. But there wasn’t surprise in his voice; he had known this was coming, she realized. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I’m sorry I have to do this to you, but you have to accept Lord Aberley’s offer.”

  “No, I cannot.”

  “I will perish in here,” he said, his frown etched deeply in his face. “I can’t end my days here. I’ll never get out. Once you’re in, you never get out.” Reaching for her hand, he pleaded with her. “You simply have to do this.”

  “No,” she said. She wasn’t responsible for this. Oliver had done this. This was his mess and he simply turned around and asked her to clean it up. This was what he’d always done. “This is Alfie’s future. I will not compromise.”

  “It will make him a rich man. Why are you so obtuse? I don’t understand. You will sacrifice me just to thwart this man?”

  “He’s awful. You’re asking me to—”

  “This man is Alfie’s father. Like it or not, he is. You married him.”

  Anger rose up her cheeks. “You made me.”

  A dark chuckle petered out of his mouth. “You jumped at the chance to marry a lord. It wasn’t as if I twisted your arm.”

  “I had no idea you were twisting his. I was such an incredible fool.”

  They sat quietly for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Oliver said. “I’m just not a better brother. I did try. I got you the best husband I could. I didn’t think he’d turn around and divorce you.”

  She knew full well that it had been his own advancement he’d sought through her marriage with Aberley, but his intentions had been to make her wealthy and comfortable in the process. Or at least she liked to believe so.

  “I understand if you choose to leave me here,” he said, drawing his hands away. “You are angry with me.”

  “This isn’t about anger.” But yes, she was furious with him. How could he do this to her? “How much do you owe?”

  “Fifteen hundred, more or less.”

  “Fifteen hundred pounds?” she said, her mouth hanging open.

  “I don’t need to pay all of it, around three hundred and they will release me.” He took her hands in his again. “Please, Sophie. Don’t leave me in here. I will do right. I promise. I’ll find work and pay off the money.”

  “I don’t have three hundred pounds.”

  “But you can get it.”

  “And how long before I end up in the workhouse? Both me and Alfie?”

  Oliver hung his head down. “I know. I’m sorry. I think you have to accept Aberley’s offer. Alfie will be protected for the rest of his life.”

  “Alfie’s perfectly fine. You are the treat to him. You did this, and you should pay for it. I’m not your keeper. I am not responsible for settling your debts. No, I can’t help you.” Rising from her seat, she stumbled to the door and banged on it. The guard came quickly and she left the room unable to look at her brother.

  Her heart was breaking. How could he do this to her? Why was it that men always let her down? Her father by dying, her brother… simply always. Aberley. Even Doug by dying on her. At times, she felt utterly alone in the world.

  Tears streamed down her face as she was led out by the uncaring guard. No one cared in this world. Everyone was simply out for what they could get. And now Oliver was putting it on her to save him, which meant selling the shop, the only safety she had in this world. How could he do this to her?

  Desperation made people selfish. She knew that. She’d done such a good job keeping that kind of desperation from her door, but here it was and she hadn’t done a single thing to deserve it.

  Could she simply turn her back on her brother—leave him to languish in prison, where he would probably catch a lung infection before long? That happened and it was often a mercy. But she did have the power to save him—but it would cost her. It would mean accepting Aberley’s offer, because without the shop, she had no way of supporting herself.

  Out on the street, she hoped she could breathe again, but the anxiety got the better of her and she had to stop to catch her breath. Her carefully constructed life was coming apart at the seams, and it wasn’t her doing. It was unfair.

  Chapter 15

  PLACING DOWN THE DOCUMENTS in his hand, Tristan stared at his desk. The investigators report held damning evidence on Oliver Bancroft's activities, including bamboozling, swindling and downright fraud.

  His instincts told him to rush over to Holborn and grab his son before he became even more influenced by these people. The exact role Sophie had played in the debacle wasn’t something he had a firm grip on, but the brother was definitely the one driving the operation. Exactly what she was, he wasn't sure, but he did believe that her resistance to his proposal was some misguided notion of protecting her son.

  Whether she was a good influence on the boy could be argued as she did purposefully relegate the child to poverty based on her notions and bitterness. That didn't readily make her a good influence on the boy, but she did fight tooth and nail for him—and that was admirable, Tristan supposed.

  Speak of the devil and who should appear at the door. Outside his window, he could see Sophie walking up the steps. This was unexpected. Perhaps she had come to her senses.

  As he listened, Smyth opened the door and he heard murmuring from his seat inside his study.

  “A Mrs. Duthie is here to see you,” Smyth said, appearing at the door.

  For a moment, Tristan had an urge to deny her, but knew it wouldn’t serve his purpose. She had come here, and it could only be because she had come to negotiate.

  Smyth disappeared again.

  “You did this, you horrid, horrid man,” she accused when she appeared. “How dare you? Are there no
limits to the depth to which you will sink?”

  Tristan raised an eyebrow. The insults were uncalled for. “Whatever misfortune has befallen you, you have brought on yourself.”

  “No, I never bring anything on myself. Interfering people cause my misfortunes.”

  “The catch cry of every deserving miscreant,” he said tartly and her mouth drew so tight, he wondered if it would disappear. She was likely to hit him soon—resorting to violence when she didn’t get what she wanted.

  “You had my brother imprisoned.”

  “Ah.” Things were coming to light. How fortuitous. “I hate to disappoint, but he caused that all on his own. Although judging from the file I just read, it was only a matter of time. Larceny, fraud. It was only a matter of time before things caught up with him.”

  “Are you trying to imply this had nothing to do with you?”

  “Yes, but it would probably have gone in that direction, in the end. This has gone on too long. So what is it you wish? You wish me to pull some strings and have your brother released. It may actually be beyond my power.”

  “My brother has already been released,” she said, her voice low and strained. “But as was your intentions, my means of providing for myself and Alfie have disappeared.”

  “You had to give away your shop,” Tristan said. In some ways, he did feel sorry for her. It had only been a matter of time, and this had resolved without him having to take the active steps to do so. Her brother had always been her biggest liability, and his sins came home to roost, it seemed. Obviously, though, he hadn’t been charged with some of the things the investigator had uncovered, or Sophie would not have been able to release him. It meant that judgement on some of his activities had not been rendered. Good to know.

  She stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do now. That pride still shone through her, but she was defeated. Discomfort dripped off her and he could tell she was close to tears. He didn’t perhaps enjoy her defeat as much as he’d imagined.

  “I will have my solicitor draw up the necessary paperwork,” he finally said. “I will expect yourself and the boy this evening. Both of you will be cared for with utmost advocacy and… benevolence.”