‘Which only goes to show that the possession of a conscience does not always work to one’s advantage,’ she added darkly.
‘You’re not running away, are you?’ a sleepy voice asked, ‘because you know how that worked out for Phoebe…’
‘Oh Matty, you scared me to half to death!’ Sophie chastised, spying her youngest sister standing just outside her door, holding a candle. ‘And why have you got Duke Wellington with you at this time of night? It’s long past both your bedtimes.’
‘Edward said I could borrow him– and besides, he’s half of my new circus act!’
‘Your newfire-breathingcircus act?’ Sophie quizzed.
Matilda nodded as Sophie closed her eyes and muttered a short prayer.
‘Well, come in and close the door, lest you wake Josephine too,’ she urged. ‘And of course I’m not running away.’
She paused to consider what phrasing would attract the least suspicion.
‘I’m simply… helping a friend.’
Sophie eyed Matilda warily, well aware of her uncanny knack for reading her older sisters like open books.
‘I’ll be back well before breakfast, I promise,’ she added breezily. ‘But you could help me by hooking my dress and not saying anything to anyone?’
‘Icoulddo that,’ Matilda replied, setting the toad down between Sophie’s cushions from where it proceeded to watch them with disgruntled suspicion.
‘But onlyifyou do something for me too.’
‘And what would that be?’ Sophie frowned, pulling on her indigo velvet gloves.
‘Find out what’s wrong with Josephine!’ Matilda complained.
‘She’s been such a bore since we left Knightswood, always gushing on and on about Sir Weston, and his perfect manners, and his perfect coat,that is just the right shade of green,’ she mimicked, feigning her most convincing sick face. ‘I’m beginning to think her last lung spasm left her addled in the head!’
‘Matilda Fairfax!’ Sophie eyed her younger sister exasperatedly. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Josephine. She’s just growing up.’
‘Well, if growing up means writingfor hours in your diary, and being cross for no reason at all, I'm sure I’d actually rather join the circus!’ Matilda fired back, throwing herself facedown on Sophie’s bed.
Sophie smiled thoughtfully at her wilful younger sister, recalling Josephine’s mood in Hyde Park. She hadn’t realised the extent of her infatuation, and clearly needed to give it some thought, but it would have to wait for now.
‘I promise I’ll talk to her,’ she said placatingly, turning her attention to the button fastenings on her gloves.
‘Now, hook me up, old lady, and we might even visit the real circus soon– but only if you give Duke Wellington the weekend off. He doesn’t look entirely comfortable with the idea of being the first fire-breathing toad!’
* * *
‘The last time we conversed he said I’d adore Paris which was clearly an invitation, so I’ve made up my mind.’
Sophie hurried from her hackney cab and along the quiet Mayfair street with Aurelia’s grand plan ringing in her ears. She was already beginning to have second thoughts and wondering if she shouldn’t have just left her to ruin her life, instead of her own precious new kid boots. And yet, the idea of turning back sent the oddest flare through her veins too, despite it making perfectly good sense.
She scowled as she pulled her cloak tighter and quickened her pace. A midnight rendezvous was certainly not as glamorous as it sounded; there were shadows looming out of every corner, and muddy puddles that seemed impossible to avoid no matter how one tried. She could only hope that Aurelia’s delusion would not affect her usual, terrible time-keeping, and that Lord Rotherby would be on his way before she even arrived. She wasn’t even certain she would know his residence, despite a sketchy knowledge of Grosvenor Square. She would just have to trust Aurelia’s description of Rotherby House as‘one of the grandest in all Mayfair’.
Fortunately, it was accurate enough, and within minutes an impressive façade and marble steps loomed up, together with a gleaming coach emblazoned with his lordship’s arms. Sophie exhaled as she slowed, peering through the misted moonlight, praying Aurelia had been misinformed about Lord Rotherby’s intended journey. Any fragile hopes were swiftly dashed, however, by the sight of luggage strapped to the top of the chaise, and a tall, unmistakable nobleman loitering beside his groom. She shrank back, cursing her new heeled kid boots as he turned in her direction, and suddenly aware she was quite alone, in Mayfair, at midnight.
‘Is that you, my love?’ he called in a new tone she’d not heard before.
Sophie froze. She’d planned to wait in the shadows, to intercept Aurelia if she happened to arrive on time – most definitely not confront him directly.
And now this. She’d heard Lord Rotherby be sardonic, playful and even quizzical before, but never like… a lover. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat as she realised hewasactually expecting someone, and a shadow of doubt flew through her mind.
He hadn’t seemed that enamoured with Mrs Haxby. Could he be leaving with someone new?Or perhaps he was expecting Aurelia after all?
