‘Stuff and nonsense! How?’
Phoebe eyeballed her sister fiercely. ‘That was me, and this is you– the girl who wants to make an advantageous love match? And anyway, I never ran away.’
Sophie threw her eyes heavenwards. ‘And this is why I was reluctant to let you chaperone me in the first place,’ she fumed. ‘You were alwaysfartoo protective, and now you’ve actually turned into Mama! Conversation is expected in Almack’s, and an invitation to dance is perfectly respectable. I’m not a little girl anymore, Phoebe, and I won’t be told I can’t enjoy myself. The sister I once knew would say we ladies have few enough privileges as it is.’
‘That’s still true,’ Phoebe fired back, ‘but Lord knows?—’
‘Good! Because I may be your sister but, as you said yourself, a Fairfax is neither fragile nor meek, and above all, weneverturn down a wager! I have four months to prove Lord Rotherby wrong, and I am quite determined to do it.’
‘That,’ Phoebe groaned, closing her eyes, ‘is exactly what I was afraid you might say.’
ChapterFour
DAMEREL HOUSE
One week later
‘Ithought you said we had until the Newmarket Races!’ Sophie exclaimed, stepping through the Fairfax crested trunks littering her sister’s hallway.
She and Phoebe had just returned from their morning walk through Mayfair, discussing the week’s round of balls, soirees and social visits.
‘Oh, I suspect Thomas got fed up with playing nursemaid a little sooner than expected,’ Phoebe replied ruefully, counting the luggage. ‘And I do believe we have the added delight of the twins too!’ she added as a door burst open and their harassed butler appeared, holding a large wriggling toad between his thumb and forefinger.
‘This is the thirdamphibianI have discovered in the lilac salon, Viscountess Damerel,’ he enunciated with visible control. ‘Do you wish me to accommodate ouradditionalguests in any particular room?’
Sophie’s lips twitched, as her sister sought to placate the proud steward.
‘Oh it’s quite all right, Hargreaves,’ Phoebe soothed. ‘I’m sure my younger brothers have brought suitable…accommodationwith them, haven’t you Edward?’
‘Duke Wellington!’ a ruddy-cheeked youth with copper hair exclaimed, as he emerged from the same salon. ‘How did you get there? I was worried the furious French cook might have added you to the soup! Thank you!’
A gurgle of laughter threatened to escape Sophie as her youngest brother prised the giant, fat toad from the bewildered butler’s fingers and popped him in his pocket.
‘He has a very adventurous spirit, you see,’ he added, as Hargreaves’s eyes bulged almost as much as Wellington’s. ‘Loves to travel!’
‘My apologies, Hargreaves.’ Viscount Damerel’s low tone resonated from the doorway of the library.
‘I invited the viscountess’s family to stay when I last met with Sir Fairfax, and should have given you fair warning of their arrival, together with their distinguished friends of course,’ the viscount said, nodding at Edward, who positively beamed in gratitude.
Sophie was conscious of a swift pang of envy as she watched Phoebe smile at her tall, impeccably dressed husband. She would never wish for a husband like the acerbic Viscount Damerel, but she did admire their relationship. There was a tangible warmth between them that always made Sophie feel as though she were intruding, even in a crowded hallway.
‘I said he’d hopped behind the atlas!’ Matilda cried, running from the saloon with one of her brothers’ sashes tied around her forehead. ‘He was deploying his ships in readiness for Little Boney!’
‘Matilda, dearest, give Henry back his trouser sash lest his buttons give way,’ Sophie said with a sigh. ‘No one wishes for him to be running around in his smalls! And I’m certain you shouldn’t be referring to Napoleon Bonaparte in such a manner either. He was a French General after all.’
‘Pooh! Fred called him Little Boney so I can too!’ Matilda replied, laughing and dancing back as an indignant Henry attempted to reclaim his clothing.
But the youngest Fairfax was swifter and she was up the marble staircase with her brothers on her heels before Sophie could remonstrate further.
‘I did suggest there probably weren’ttoomany pirates at the Battle of Waterloo,’ Josephine offered, emerging from the salon clutching the infamous atlas, ‘but she was insistent.’
‘Wonderful to see you too, Jo,’ Sophie grinned and embraced her sister.
‘I suppose piracy is a step up from marrying Misty at least.’
‘Well, that all depends on the pirate!’ Josephine smiled, making her way to the stairs.
‘A tea tray is waiting in the drawing room, your ladyship,’ Hargreaves boomed, in a final bid to retrieve his dignity.
