The latter part of his address was uttered softly, but the glint in his eyes was clear. She drew herself up to her full height, unwilling to be admonished by a sanctimonious rake or to be reminded of their wager at this time. His double standards infuriated her, while the narrow escape with Mrs Hendercott had only made her feel foolish.
‘I am not interested in your observations, sir,’ she replied coldly. ‘My interests are not your affair, and now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve a number of?—’
‘Oh I do believe we are quite discovered!’ Aurelia declared in delight as some boisterous laughter resounded through the space.
Sophie’s spirits sank further, as she glanced in the direction of the Institution entrance. A matron of the ton and Lord Rotherby were one matter, a group of young gentlemen seeking frivolous entertainment quite another.
‘And what can any young lady do in such circumstances, except throw herself on the mercy of her heroic company?’ Aurelia added, smiling at Lord Rotherby, who looked distinctly uninterested in being heroic in any way.
‘There’s always making an exit with your self-respect intact,’ Mrs Haxby murmured.
‘In truth there is little need for any heroics,’ a sensible tone interjected, ‘when there is another exit, just up ahead.’
‘Sir Weston,’ Sophie exhaled in relief, ‘how truly delightful to see you!’
Sir Weston lifted his curly-brimmed beaver hat as Sophie curtsied, unable to help contrasting his steadfast presence with Lord Rotherby’s clear disapproval.
Briefly, Josephine’s praise echoed through her thoughts.
‘Sir Weston has a quiet air of authority that neither seeks attention, nor shies away from it, and his manner always suits the occasion. He neither tries too hard, nor not enough, and always knows just what to say too.’
She smiled faintly, it seemed her younger sister was far more astute than she’d realised, and now she couldn’t be more grateful for his appearance.
‘Would you be so kind as to escort us home, Sir Weston?’ she asked, ignoring Lord Rotherby’s silent stare, ‘for we find we are quite finished here.’
‘I should be honoured, Miss Fairfax,’ Sir Weston said, executing a very proper bow which was neither too obsequious, nor too small.
‘Thank you, that would be most kind.’ Sophie smiled with real gratitude. ‘I’ve not had the chance to thank you for your delightful daffodils either,’ she continued. ‘They made Damerel Place looked just like Knightswood Park, and my sisters did not stop admiring them for a week.’
‘You are most welcome, Miss Fairfax,’ Sir Weston replied. ‘I believe daffodils possess a true beauty that encapsulates spring– I hoped you might enjoy them.’
‘I did,’ she replied sincerely. ‘They were, by far, my favourite.’
ChapterEight
ONE HOSTILE RAKE
Three days later
It wasn’t exactly an untruth. Daffodils were Sophie’s favourite, but even she didn’t know why she’d said as much to Sir Weston – except that she’d very much enjoyed the scowl on Lord Rotherby’s face when she did so. She wrinkled her nose at the memory. In truth, Lord Rotherby hadn’t scowled so much asglowered,intently, and even though she had taken the greatest satisfaction from his clear disapproval for dear Sir Weston and his impoverished blooms, it was still a mystery of epic proportions. On reflection, she could only conclude that Sir Weston’s sensible coats and genteel manner offended him as much as her determination to make a love match.
Sighing, she gazed out at Hyde Park, wishing for the umpteenth time that Aunt Higglestone had accepted the offer of Phoebe’s lilac phaeton while she was away; it was so much finer than a hired carriage, especially for a debutante in her first season.
‘Do try and look a little bit interested, Josephine. It’ll be your turn soon enough.’ Sophie glanced across at her dearest bookworm sister, who was enthralled by a copy of Ann Hatton’sModern Attachments.
‘I haven’t the time,’ Josephine murmured, raising an eyebrow.
‘I discovered Hatchards Booksellers in Piccadilly yesterday, and it is a perfect treasure trove! I fully intend to return there tomorrow as I found a rather lovely bound copy ofNorthanger Abbey which smelled like old leather and ink and… Anyway, did you know this book was written by Sarah Siddons’s sister– the actress who gave Phoebe the theatrical epée she snapped when duelling the high?—’
‘Yes, yes dear,’ Sophie assured swiftly with a pointed look at their abigails, seated opposite them. ‘I recall her very well. And I’m sure it’s a very fine book, but the whole point of riding out in Hyde Park before dinner is to see and be seen. All anyone can see of you is the tip of your topknotà la madonna, and I do believe Lucy positively slaved over it.’
Josephine rolled her eyes before marking her page with her favourite homemade bookmark.
‘Aunt Higglestone’s maid isn’t here,’ she pointed out drily, ‘and the only reason I’m here is because Phoebe isn’t. I know you’d much rather be bowling through Hyde Park, in a fashionable phaeton, with the newest darling of the ton at your side.’
‘Not at all,’ Sophie frowned, reaching out to squeeze her sister’s hand. ‘For who else could I rely on to remind me that the season is actually all rather frivolous and silly, if not the most thoughtful and dearest bookworm among us?’
She smiled as Josephine’s face lit up, though she was conscious of a dart of concern too. Their mild-mannered middle sister could usually be counted on for her sunny outlook; it was most unlike her to compare herself to anyone.
