His grin faded as something over her shoulder caught his eye. She turned to look and saw Angela Blake, resplendent in green silk, and a man Sophie assumed must be her brother, with similar red hair.
Seeing her, Angela approached and said, “Mrs. Overtree, may I introduce my brother, Horace Blake. Horace, Mrs. Overtree, Stephen’s wife.”
She curtsied, and he bowed. “A pleasure.”
Angela’s eyes turned frosty when they settled on Sophie’s companion. “Mr. Keith,” she acknowledged with cool civility but quickly turned to greet someone else, her brother swept along in her wake.
When the butler announced dinner was served, they all entered the dining room in order of precedence, though Sophie still didn’t understand all the particulars. She waited until Stephen offered his arm and was grateful for his nearness and relative familiarity amid the sea of strangers.
The dining room was awash in candlelight from candelabra and wall sconces. The table had been extended to its full length to accommodate their many guests and laid with fine linens, the family china, and decorative arrangements of fruits and hothouse flowers. Place cards directed her and Stephen to one end of the table near Angela Blake, Mr. Keith, and Mr. Darby-Wells. Kate sat on his other side, while Mr. Harrison and his parents were seated at the opposite end.
During dinner, Mr. Keith waved away refills of wine, Sophie noticed. Taking his cue from the captain, he nursed a single glass, while sipping on spring water.
Mr. Darby-Wells leaned toward Mr. Keith. “Haven’t seen you in months, Keith. Been to White’s lately?”
“No, not in ages. I’ve been in Devonshire with Wesley Overtree.”
“Ah. Devonshire.” The handsome man nodded sagely. “Spend any time with the Exmoor ponies while you were there...?” His tone dripped with innuendo.
A euphemism for betting on horse races, Sophie guessed.
“Afraid not,” Mr. Keith replied.
“Care for a friendly game after dinner?” the man asked.
“No, thanks. I’ve given it up.”
“Have you indeed? That’s a shame.”
Keith’s eyes glinted. “No. It’s a shame when you lose your family’s estate and have to marry for money.” He gave the young man a pointed look.
“Do you say that from personal experience?” the dandy retorted.
“Yes, but I was not thinking of myself or my father in this instance.” Keith’s eyes held the other man’s steadily. Knowingly.
Darby-Wells gave a casual shrug, but Sophie noticed him shift in his chair.
“Bah. You know how rumors spread...” The young man smirked and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I may have lost a fortune, but at least I still have all my appendages.”
Sophie sucked in a little gasp and looked at Stephen and Kate, but they hadn’t heard. Miss Blake had, however. So had Mr. Keith, and the bravado faded from his eyes. He lowered his artificial hand into his lap.
After dinner, Kate begged for dancing, and soon the men set aside their port and pipe, and the women their gossip, to oblige her.
Together the party moved toward the great hall. In anticipation of the dancing, servants had rolled up the carpets and laid a fire in the massive hearth to chase away the chill in the cavernous room. Mr. Overtree had surprised his daughter by hiring musicians after all, who even now sat at the ready in the raised gallery above. As the company entered they began playing a jaunty tune with fiddle, flute, and pipe.
Kate and Mr. Darby-Wells claimed the position of head couple and called for a Scottish reel. Its militant pace put Sophie in mind of soldiers marching into battle. At the thought, her heart fell, knowing Captain Overtree might soon do just that.
The tune reminded Stephen of his regiment’s bandsmen. He blinked away an unwanted image of a drummer boy who looked no older than twelve, lying dead in a Spanish wheat field. This was not the time or place for such remembrances. If only he could wipe them from his mind forever.
As other couples joined in, Stephen touched Sophie’s elbow. “May I have this dance?”
She blinked up at him in surprise. “I did not think you cared enough for dancing to wish to begin so early.”
“I don’t. But I refuse to waste a moment with you.”
She bit her lip. “Would you mind terribly if we waited until the next? I don’t think I’m equal to a reel after that large meal.”
“I don’t mind at all, as long as you stay near.”
