His face cleared, and the odd expression was replaced with a wide smile. “Miss Merrington… how delightful! I was just telling your mama… and her grace… how you had told me so much about Staineybank and its glories, that I had to see for myself.”
Well, that excuse would do as well as any other. “Campbell,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Campbell, I believe. The architect. It is magnificent, is it not?” He blinked at her, and seeing that he had nothing further to say on the subject of architecture, she went on, “You had a tolerable journey, I trust. Have you come far?”
“From… from Gloucestershire… near Cheltenham… my father’s seat at Pentavon Castle.” He fell silent, looking behind Sophia at the doorway where her sisters, she presumed, still stood, waiting to be introduced, and there was that odd expression on his face again. Surely she had mentioned her sisters? She was certain she had. He could not be surprised by them. But she had not introduced them…
“Oh — allow me to make my sisters known to you, Lord Daniel. My eldest sister, Charlotte… and Augusta… and that is Maria.”
The three made their curtsies, then they sat in a row on a sofa, near enough to hear the conversation but not so close as to be required to participate. Sophia sat beside her mother, with the duchess nearby, while Lord Daniel pulled up a chair to sit beside her, and after that all was easy. Sophia and Lord Daniel chatted as comfortably as they had at Marshfields, the conversation helped along by the occasional word from Mama or the duchess. And in no time, the afternoon had flown by and it was time to dress for dinner.
***
The irrepressible Robert brought the news to Simon with his evening washing water.
“Lord Daniel Torbuck, he is. Son of the Markiss of… of Something. Very happy to see Miss Sophia, he is.”
“The Marquess of Pentavon,” Simon said automatically, although with a frown. Lord Daniel here… that could only mean a serious courtship. He was not sure he liked the sound of that.
“Oh, you know him, then?” Robert said, pouring water into the washbowl, and only slopping a little over the side. “I s’pose all you great families know each other.”
“I met him at Marshfields.”
He had danced twice with Sophia at the ball, and then hung around her, and if he had now come to see her again, that was surely a good thing. Perhaps he would propose and then she would have the husband and children and a house of her own that she craved so badly. Although Torbuck was only a younger son, so unless he had a profession, he would be dependent on his father. At leasthisfather would support his son, he thought morosely, unlike Simon’s.
When he descended to the White Drawing Room, Torbuck was already there, with his expensively fashionable clothes and immaculately white neckcloth. Simon had no desire to cut a dash, but he envied Torbuck his supplies of new linen, or the skilled laundrymaid who kept them looking so.
Torbuck was making polite conversation with Godley, the chaplain, and Hammond, the secretary, but he willingly turned to Simon when he drew near.
“We met at Marshfields, as you might recall,” he said. “Payne, Simon Payne.”
“Ah yes. How are you?”
“Well. Have you come from Pentavon?”
“I have, yes.”
“Motte and bailey. Original. Very interesting place.”
Torbuck burst out laughing. “It is a damnably uncomfortable place to live, I assure you, all howling draughts and dampness. Never warm, even in midsummer. Give me a cosy modern house any day.”
The Merrington ladies arrived just then, Mrs Merrington a little in front and two pairs of sisters behind her, arm in arm, as usual looking almost identical. Simon was amused to see a slightly panicked look on Torbuck’s face, and realised he could not pick Sophia out of the group. What an awkward dilemma for him! How was he supposed to court her when he could not recognise her?
Taking pity on him, Simon murmured, “What a pretty gown Miss Sophia is wearing! That shade of blue sets off her complexion perfectly, does it not? And the amber cross is charming.”
Relief flooded Torbuck’s features. “Yes… indeed. Charming… quite charming.”
He stepped forward to speak to Sophia, who blushed and lowered her head shyly. She was certainly charming, or at least she was managing to charm Lord Daniel. Simon was surprised at the intensity of the pain that shot through him as he watched them. Even though his head told him very clearly that he could never aspire to her hand, his heart, it seemed, was paying no attention. He had come, by insensible degrees, to regard Sophia ashis, in some indefinable way. Not as a wife, but as a friend… one for whom he felt a great affection. Now he saw that for the presumption that it was. She would never have been his, never, and the thought left him with an emptiness inside.
Juliet appeared at his shoulder, and drew him aside, whispering, “He is as fine as fivepence, would you not say? Lookhow he smirks at her! He will cut you out, if you are not careful, brother.”
“I can hardly compete with the son of a marquess, sister,” Simon said glumly.
“You are the son of an earl,” she hissed. “Besides, I doubt he has much of an allowance. He is the third son, you know. His father probably has a living or two for him, but his prospects are no better than yours, and you are a great deal handsomer than he is.”
Simon only shook his head.
