“As you say.” She fell silent, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. Thankfully, it was.
Once her shoes were secure, she and Lady Carlisle made their way downstairs. Her father was waiting in the foyer. He wouldn’t be accompanying them, but he wished her luck and kissed her mother’s cheek as he walked them to the door.
The carriage was waiting, and they rode in comfortable quiet to the house of the Duke of Arundel. He and his wife were to be their hosts this evening.
They greeted the somewhat imposing duke as they entered, and Sophie exchanged a few words with the Duchess of Arundel, whom she liked immensely.
Their duties to social obligations complete, they moved on to the ballroom, which was rapidly filling. High ceilings stretched overhead with crystal chandeliers reflecting the light and glittering like diamonds. Pink and white flowers adorned the walls and tables, and the air had a faint floral scent.
As she looked around, it quickly became evident that they had beaten Nicholas here. Sophie also saw no sign of BaronSylvestor, but Colonel Moore was chatting with the duchess’s brother, a marquess. When she caught the Colonel’s gaze, he nodded in acknowledgement, but he didn’t end the conversation and ask her to save him a dance.
“Shall we circulate?” her mother asked, apparently reaching the same conclusion as Sophie—that there were no suitors that immediately demanded her attention.
“Perhaps we could wander near the refreshments table,” Sophie suggested, having already noticed the bite-sized strawberry tarts she would very much like to sample.
Lady Carlisle’s lips pursed, but she didn’t make any scathing comments about women who ate too many treats as she might have done a few years ago. Sophie counted that as a success.
Unfortunately, before they made it as far as the refreshments table, Mr. Garfield’s stocky form materialized in their path. He smiled at Sophie—but not as if she was a pretty debutante. Rather, the expression was more like the one Sophie would have given the cake.
She didn’t like it. It didn’t make her too uneasy, but it certainly wasn’t the way she had anticipated being looked at by the gentleman she eventually married.
Mr. Garfield bowed low. “Lady Carlisle, Lady Sophie, it’s a pleasure to see you both. I’ve been reliably informed that a dance will be beginning shortly. Would you do me the honor of joining me, Lady Sophie?”
Reluctantly, Sophie went with him. To his credit, he tried to initiate and maintain a conversation, but he had no idea of her interests, and she got the impression he was more attracted to her position in society than to who she was as a person.
She wasn’t above using her social standing to obtain a husband, but she would only do so if she had already decided she wanted that particular gentleman and he wasn’t amenable to her other charms.
She had no desire to marry Mr. Garfield. None.
When the dance finished and he escorted her back to her mother, her heart lifted at the sight of a familiar dark-eyed, dark-haired gentleman standing with her.
Nicholas smiled, crinkles forming around his eyes in a way that was endearing and reminded her of laughter and summer days. Beside her, Mr. Garfield stiffened. Perhaps he didn’t like the perceived competition.
As if there were any.
She had no interest in Mr. Garfield.
Alas, the entirety of her interest was reserved for a man who had no desire for a wife.
“I shall speak with you later,” Mr. Garfield said, releasing her arm. “Perhaps we might dance again.”
Sophie’s breath hitched. A second invitation to dance was as good as a declaration of courtship.
She mumbled something incomprehensible, her heart racing. She was supposed to be making herself more approachable, so she should have expected attentions such as this, but it put her in a difficult position. If she rejected a relatively likeable fellow out of hand, it would only solidify her reputation for thinking too much of herself.
Nicholas grinned. “You’re popular tonight. Do you still have time for a fool like me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Always, good sir.”
Probably more than was healthy. It was a shame that one could not turn off their finer feelings when the subject of one’s affection did not feel the same.
He held his hand out, palm up, and she laid hers on it, wishing more than anything that the silk barrier of her gloves would disappear so that their skin might brush. She moved almost instinctively in his arms, allowing him to guide her into the dancing and lead her with the sort of grace she’d always envied.
“Don’t be taken in by Garfield,” he murmured as he spun her.
Her skirt fluttered around her calves and ankles, her heart lighter than it should be given his words. “What do you know?”
“Not much. I simply get the sense you want different things from marriage.”
