“We would be delighted,” Honore said, and brought the cup to her lips. She stole a surreptitious glance at Sophie. The young woman looked as if she wanted to sink into the cushions and disappear. There was more to the situation in this household than met the eye, and Honore intended to find out as much as she could before the dinner party. The quiet, nervous young ward seemed as out of place in an English drawing room as an exotic orchid. Honore’s heart warmed. She could already imagine bouncing a dark-haired little girl on her knee.
There was a sharp tapping on the door, and a servant entered with an apologetic look on his face. “Mr. Seaton,” he said, and then withdrew.
A slight frown of annoyance flitted across Lady Howick’s face. The young man who strode into the drawing room had sallow skin and the eyes of a hawk in search of a small victim. He settled an intense gaze on Sophie.
“Here you are. I’ve been looking all over for Sophie, Auntie,” he said, a slight accusatory tone in his voice.
Sophie’s expression was anything but welcoming. Honore wanted to give her a comforting squeeze.
“Have you forgotten your manners?” Lady Howick snapped. “Mrs. John Bellingham, this is my nephew, Mr. Theodore Seaton. Teddy, this is Mrs. Bellingham. Her son, Captain Arnaud Bellingham, rescued Sophie and Lydia from a pair of street bullies yesterday on Pall Mall. She and her son are joining us for dinner tomorrow night.”
He pulled out a quizzing glass and gave Honore a long, assessing look before saying, “What a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Bellingham.” His wry frown directed at her eyes only gave Honore pause.
“Do you reside here with your aunt?” she asked, knowing her question would be perceived as rude, but not caring. She had taken an immediate dislike to Mr. Seaton.
“No,” Lady Howick said emphatically, not allowing him to answer. I’ve provided Teddy with rooms in a boarding house on Duke Street. I know my late sister would want him to be on his own by this point in his life.”
The words she speared him with were sharp enough to cut through ice.
After Mrs. Bellingham took her leave, Sophie stood and said, “I have some sewing to finish. If you do not require anything else, I’ll return to my room.”
Lady Howick cut a dark glance at her nephew, and he stood as well. “Dear Aunt, Miss Brancelli,” he said, “I’m devastated to have to depart your company, but I will see you at dinner tomorrow night.”
After he left, Sophie moved to exit behind him, but Lady Howick stopped her with an outstretched hand. “Come, sit close to me, dear. We have more to discuss.”
Sophie’s blood chilled, as if her heart had been plunged into a bucket of ice water.
“You know how much I loved your grandmother, and I would do anything to see you safely into a situation of your own, but…”
“But?” Sophie asked, too anxious to form more words because she was terrified of what Lady Howick would say next.
“This business with the kidnappers could be a serious hindrance. If you can’t make a good match, I fear for your future. Your inheritance could disappear.”
“I wonder,” Sophie asked, a bit hesitant, “what would become of the funds?”
“Knowing your uncle, he would claim your funds without a thought to your welfare. He’d leave you without a feather to fly and never miss a moment’s sleep.” Lady Howick paused, with a distant look in her eyes. “I hadn’t considered that eventuality until now.”
Sophie’s cake and tea settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach. Her mind flew to her hopes of supporting herself with poetry. She’d had a few nibbles from publishers when she’d submitted her work under a man’s name. All of them had commented on how close her work was to sufficient quality for publication, but none had offered a contract. She was doomed. And in that moment, she realized with a jolt of memory she’d lost the most important lines from the last poem in the new collection she’d hoped to sell.
The older woman sat in thought for a few long minutes until Sophie wanted to scream. Finally, she spoke.
“I know how much your writing means to you…” When Sophie looked up, surprised, she shushed her. “Your grandmother was very proud that you inherited her love and talent for literature. She told me many times how proud she was of your work.” After another long look down the drawing room, Lady Howick spoke again.“We will proceed with your Season, but I fear once news of your adventures reaches the ears of theton, there may be few suitable men who will offer for you. Your best hope may be the young man who came to your rescue yesterday. And his mother seemed concerned for your welfare.”
“I barely know him. He was merely being kind, and besides…” Lady Howick smiled, and Sophie quit protesting, inclining her head toward the older woman. “Tell me what I should do.”
“His family is in business, merchant shipping, but he’s also the grandson of an earl. And of course, as a naval captain, he is gone for months at a time…which would leave you plenty of time on your own to do as you wish.”
“You did what?” Arnaud seethed at his mother’s assumption of his attraction to the poor young woman he’d snatched from the arms of a potential kidnapper.
“We’re invited to dinner tomorrow night at eight,” she added. “Sophie wants to thank you herself for your heroic efforts on her behalf.”
“What if I have other plans for tomorrow night?”
“Change them,” she said, and continued arranging from the basket of fresh blooms her footman had carried in from the orangerie at the rear of her townhouse. Vagabond purred loudly from his cushioned bed and sent a look of challenge toward the footman.
“Why in the name of all that’s holy am I able to command an entire ship’s crew, but cannot get my own mother to grasp a simple truth?”
“I’m to assist her later this week at Madame Bonheur’s with gowns for the Season. You’ll be here for a month or so at least. Why not attend some social functions and meet other young people?”
