Perfectly Mismatched Read online

  “Alistair,” Sophia chimed to the elderly manservant as he entered the room.

  “Yes, my lady?” For one as old as he, he moved with amazing vigor, by her side almost instantly.

  “Does Viscount Tamway often go in to work in such a hurry?”

  “Oh yes, my lady. The company is his pride and joy. Built it from the ground up, you know.”

  “I do. Thank you.”

  She dismissed Alistair. As she did she felt slightly better about herself, sure that when Robert came back later that evening everything would be as it had been again.

  Unfortunately for Sophia, things didn’t get better. Not in the way that she had hoped.

  She spent the day exploring the estate and meeting all the house servants. By the end of the day she had their names memorized and was sure they were going to love her. From there she moved on to the garden, noting how plain it was and beginning a mental plan for how she was going to improve it.

  As the day wore on and night began, she felt herself getting bored. When she had lived at home with her father, there was always something. Whether it be sewing, knitting, baking, learning or working in the garden, she had always kept busy. What was more, she had a reason to keep busy then. She was turning herself into the perfect wife, for an occasion such as this one.

  However, now that she had servants to do so much for her, and a husband she needed to please, she found herself wanting. She had far too much time, and nothing to fill it with. As the sun set on her second day as a married woman, and as her husband had still not come home, she realized she didn’t know what to do with herself.

  “Alistair,” she called to the manservant as he passed through the living area. He was always about, almost as if he were following her. He most likely was, as a good manservant was always there when needed.

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “Does Viscount Tamway always come home this late from work?”

  “Oh yes my lady. He’s a hard worker, the Viscount. I wouldn’t be shocked if he was out for several more hours.”

  “I see.”

  This statement proved to be accurate. Robert didn’t come home that night, at least not at a suitable hour. Sophia waited as late as she could, well toward midnight. She wanted to be up to greet him, but eventually reconciled herself to the fact that doing so might seem a little needy and presumptuous. She went to bed, sure that tomorrow would be another day.

  Tomorrow wasn’t another day. Nor was the one after that or the one after that. Every morning Robert woke several hours after Sophia, and every morning he was out the door minutes later. Sometimes he would stop in the dining room to kiss her on the cheek before saying goodbye, sometimes he wouldn’t.

  Almost always he was out well past midnight, and never once did he explain himself. She tried to ask him where he was going to, doing so in as casual a manner as she was able, but when she did he told her, in a tone that didn’t warrant an argument, he was working and gave no additional information.

  After the first week of being married to the Viscount of Tamway, Sophia found herself in somewhat of a conundrum. On the one hand, married life wasn’t terrible. Her husband treated her well enough. He spoke to her pleasantly, he kissed her when he saw her and even asked her how her day was, on the few mornings he lingered long enough to do so.

  On the other hand, he was always away. Of the seven days they had been married, six of them had been spent at work. Of the seven days they had been married, they had only eaten a full day of meals together once. Of the seven days they had been married, they had been together in full for only one of them. Even when they slept in the same bed, he shuffled to the other side, as if determined not to get too close.

  Sophia had been led to believe that married life was going to be bliss. All she need do is keep her husband happy and everything would be as it should be, but that wasn’t the case. The real problem with all of this was that she had no idea why. What had she done to be treated this way? She must have done something. Their first day together was so perfect, so sublime. It had suggested a lifetime of happiness to come, not a few hours. She ran the day over and over in her head, trying to divine an answer but was unable to.

  It was as if Robert had simply woken up the morning after their first day together and decided that married life wasn’t for him, but that seemed too far-fetched to be believed. Even for someone with as much free time and as large an imagination as Sophia had, she just couldn’t comprehend it.

  Chapter 11

  Robert lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, finally resolved in the knowledge that tonight he wasn’t going to catch a wink of sleep. Beside him lay his wife of one week. His body ached to touch her, but he didn’t dare. It had already taken all his willpower just to come home each day and slip into bed beside her without automatically kissing her or reaching for her. She was sleeping soundly, facing him. There was a small smile on her face as she slept; a fact that made Robert feel even worse.

  He wanted to be the perfect husband, he really did. After he spoke to Hugh and Hugh all but told him it was in his best interest to marry Sophia, Robert went through a sort of journey of self-reflection. He thought on why he had never been wed, and what doing so might mean for him personally.

  He realized that Hugh was right. Robert had already crossed off so many achievements in his life, ones that a man of his birth had no right to even have hoped for. It only made sense that marrying a Lady like Sophia would be the next step in his life.

  Regardless of how it served his business ventures, there was every reason he should enjoy married life. One couldn’t be a bachelor forever, it was unfeasible. Plus, when he added the pressure put on him by his mother and the fact that all his friends and acquaintances were married, the alliance only made the more sense.

  It was because of all this that Robert had said yes to the marriage. Once he said yes, as with all things in life, he committed wholeheartedly to the venture. He truly believed that he had what it would take to be a good husband. More than that, he would enjoy it.

  He threw himself into the experience with vigor. The wedding night was about as pleasurable as he could have asked for, not at all disappointing. The next day started off well too. Breakfast was divine, the ride was lovely and each little stop they made seemed to delight Sophia even further. Everything was going well... and then he woke up the second morning.

  Despite how well the previous day had gone, Robert just wasn’t able to convince himself that he had enjoyed the day as much as he knew he should have and couldn’t work out why. Sophia was practically perfect. Not only was she more beautiful than he remembered, but they got on so well. She was funny, witty, not at all snobbish and, most importantly, she was interesting. Far more than other ladies he had met.

  By the time that first day of marriage was over and they made their way to the bedroom, Robert was riddled with self-doubt and uncertainty. Feeling it necessary to examine this turn of events, he claimed he was too tired to make love, despite the instant racing of his heart the moment they mounted the stairs toward the bedroom. Sophia, as she had all day, acted as a lady should. She told him that was perfectly fine, she kissed him on the cheek and climbed into bed, content to sleep. Again, she was perfect.

  So why was he not happy?

  It had been exactly one week since their wedding. Every night he came home to find his wife already in bed. Every night he laid beside her, closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. Had he made a mistake in all of this? Was it too late to back out? More importantly, could he even do that to Sophia? No, he didn’t think he could.

  He wanted to be a good husband, but that just wasn’t him. Robert wasn’t marriage material any way he looked at it. His name didn’t help to advance her in society given his newness to the aristocracy, his reputation, though no worse than that of any other landed gentleman, would likewise bring difficulty for her due to his upbringing. He could think of not one single positive offering he’d brought to the table in this marriage.
Sophia deserved far better than him. It was as he lay awake that night, very aware of his wife lying angelically next to him, that he realized he had a serious decision to make. Should he keep up this sham of a marriage? Or should he divorce Sophia, apologize the best he could and move on? He had no idea.

  “You know I don’t like coming here,” Hugh said with disdain as he joined Robert at a table in the corner of the bar. “What’s more, Emma doesn’t like me coming here.”

  “So, what did you tell her?” Robert took a sip of his beer. It was cold and frothy; a perfect tonic to the way he was feeling.

  “That I was visiting the shelter tonight. I don’t think she believed me.” A drunk man stumbling by the table suddenly lost the will to stand and fell with a crash right at Hugh’s feet. The Duke looked down at the man with disdain. “I’ll pay for this tomorrow. Believe you me.”

  “And tomorrow you can complain to me all you like,” Robert conceded, drawing Hugh’s attention back from the man on the floor, “but tonight is about me and my problems. So, if you don’t mind...”

  Robert was desperate. His marriage was not going at all how he had planned, and he needed advice. As in life, Robert initially attacked the marriage with gusto and verve, with the true intent of being a great husband, but after a week of hiding out in various taverns and card rooms he admitted to himself that he needed answers.

  The real problem was that Robert was actually a decent chap. At least he thought so. A worse sort of husband would happily spend the rest of his married life hiding from his wife. In fact, he knew a few men who did just that. But that wasn’t Robert. He liked Sophia enough to know that what he was doing every day wasn’t fair to her in the least. It was time to decide.

  Making decisions was never Robert’s strong suit. That was why he had called Hugh. The two had a favorite bar they used to frequent when Hugh was a single man, and Robert had sent an emissary to him demanding that the Duke meet him there immediately, even though it was only just past one in the afternoon.

  “Married life isn’t what you thought, and you want me to make you feel better about breaking that poor girl’s heart.” Hugh hadn’t ordered a drink. He sipped on a glass of water as he watched his friend squirm in his seat.

  “Not at all,” Robert exclaimed with absolute earnestness. “What I want is a reason to stay in the marriage. What I want is for you to tell me that it’s actually a lot better than I am giving it credit for and if I stick it out, I’ll come around.”

  “Where does Sophia think you are right now?”

  “At work,” Robert answered with a sigh. “She thinks that’s where I’ve been going all week.”

  “And where have you been going?”

  “Here mainly. And Madam Woo’s card room. And that new bordello across the road, Madam Montreal’s. And sometimes I just... I just walk around trying to clear my head.”

  Surprisingly, Hugh didn’t burst into laughter at Robert’s confession. This surprised the Viscount as it was exactly what he would have done. Instead the Duke gave his friend a look of serious concern, as if he truly felt for the man.

  It was only after a few moments of silence, moments which felt like hours to Robert, that Hugh finally spoke. “Marriage is difficult. I’m not going to lie. Look at mine, perhaps the perfect example. My only advice, and any married man will tell you this, is that you need to stick it out. The love will come.”

  “I’ve tried —”

  “For one day. I know you’re lazy Robert, but really? I think you should give it another try. You owe it to Sophia at the very least.”

  Robert didn’t respond. It was the answer he knew he was going to get from his good friend, but not the one he wanted. Instead he waved his hand in the direction of the bar, indicating for them to bring him another drink. The two men sat in silence as the drink came and continued to sit in silence as Robert guzzled it down.

  “Well?” Hugh finally pressed after much time. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” And in that, Robert could not have been more serious.

  Chapter 12

  It was time to act. There would be no more sitting around waiting. No more staying up late, hoping that Robert came home. No more crying herself to sleep when he didn’t. When Sophia woke up to find that her husband either hadn’t come home the previous night or had left so early that she didn’t even get a chance to see him, she realized that if this marriage was going to be saved it was up to her to do it.

  The advantage to living the life that Sophia had up to this point was that she was rather independent. She had to be. Except for her father, she had no other male influence in her life. She had grown up in a house where she was expected to learn how to fend for herself in most ways. Everything from knowing how to cook for herself, to being able to saddle a horse were lessons she had been given, despite the assumption that she would always have servants to wait on her.

  With Robert acting like Sophia didn’t exist, she was beginning to feel like she was back at her father’s house, as though her wedding day and the perfect day that followed were all figments of her imagination. It left her feeling foolish and miserable; feelings that she didn’t care for. She decided to do something about it.

  Robert had made it very clear to Sophia that he had been going to work every day and yet for some reason Sophia just didn’t believe him. Not only had he come home smelling of alcohol on more than one occasion, but she had done some asking around of the house servants, and most seemed adamant that Robert hadn’t worked this hard in years. Only Alistair stuck to the original story with absolute resolve, but Sophia was sure that he was paid to do that.

  Sophia was very aware of her husband’s reputation. The whole city was aware. She had no doubt in her mind that Robert was spending his days down at taverns, or, and this was the admission that hurt, at his favorite bordello.

  Whenever Sophia thought about it, she felt a stabbing pain in her stomach. She didn’t want to believe that her husband, a man she truly thought she was falling in love with, would do this to her. Rather than confront him without proof, she decided to get some.

  “Where to, my lady?” The carriage driver asked.

  Sophia had asked Alistair to order her a carriage for the day. He did this without a hint of trepidation, sending for one immediately. The carriage arrived within the hour to find Sophia standing by the front of the manor waiting.

  “To the docks down by the Industrial Estate. Pier eight I believe.” If the carriage driver was suspect as to what a Lady was doing heading to the docks alone, he said nothing. He watched as Sophia climbed inside. He waited until she was ready, and then set the carriage into motion.

  The docks were located on the outskirts of London, a solid forty minutes away via carriage. There was a reason that Sophia had never been to the docks before and as the carriage made its way through them, toward pier eight, she began to wonder if she had made the right choice in coming here.

  The place was filthy. If it wasn’t the stench of seaweed in the air, it was the grime that covered everything else. It was the rust that coated every exposed metal beam and the muck that stuck to the sailors’ boots and spread itself across the yard. Second and perhaps most important, was how dangerous the docks were. Sailors were notoriously uncouth creatures. They hopped from port to port, drinking, whoring and fighting. They swore, they spat, and they smelled. They were about as far from the gentlemen that Sophia was used to being around as could be.

  “Pier eight, miss,” the carriage driver said as he came to a stop.

  Sophia hadn’t even noticed the carriage coming to a standstill. She was far too engrossed in what she saw. From the sailor scratching at his private parts across the way, to the seagulls whitewashing the ground and the men walking through it, it had given her a rather rude awakening.

  The pier itself ran over three hundred feet in length. Sitting on either side of the pier were two of the largest ships Sophia had ever seen. Constructed entirely of steel, they seemed to
be as long as, if not longer than, the pier. Their height was incredible, easily as tall the manor, if not taller. She’d never seen anything similar. Hundreds of men scurried up and down the pier, streaming from the two ships as they ran. It was organized chaos the likes of which Sophia had never imagined. She was in awe.

  “Pier eight, miss,” the carriage driver said again, sounding a little annoyed this time.

  “Oh yes.” Sophia pulled herself back into the moment as she fumbled with her purse. “Here you are,” she finished, handing the driver what was owed, plus a little extra.

  “Are you alright on your own?” the carriage driver asked. He eyed her up and down, taking note of the fine dress she was wearing.

  “Yes, yes. My husband works here. I’m just popping in.”

  The carriage driver eyed her skeptically as she exited the carriage, but he didn’t argue. In short order he coaxed the horses back into motion, heading back the way he came.

  It was only once the carriage was gone that Sophia suddenly became aware of how out of place she must look. Not only was everyone around her dressed in work attire, but they were all men. Every single one. As they hurried past her, most heading in the direction of the two large ships, they eyed her curiously, clearly not sure what in the world she was doing.

  In their defense, Sophia had no idea what she was doing either. Across the way from the pier was what looked to be a small, two-story, office building. She guessed that was the office her husband worked in. If not, she could at least inquire as to where he might be. Doing her best to ignore the hungry stares of the sailors, she turned and made her way in its direction, but didn’t get far.

  As she hurried toward the building, she spied a lone sailor, struggling with a very awkward looking crate. The crate was a solid foot taller than him and although it was balanced on a trolley, it was moments away from tipping over. He was trying his best to balance the large crate, but was failing miserably, unable to wrap his arms around it.