Lady Blackwell pursed her lips. “Some might say that.” She glanced from Sophie to Nicholas. “I’d heard that you were courting, but you’ve been around the house so rarely that I haven’t been able to confirm.” The corner of her eye twitched. “If I were someone else, I might be inclined to think you were avoiding me.”
“Never,” Nicholas said.
Sophie didn’t believe him, and she doubted Lady Blackwell did either. His tone was flat and his words rang false.
Lady Blackwell eyed them. “Yes, well, I was forced to confirm for myself if I wanted answers, so here I am.”
“Here you are,” Nicholas echoed.
Sophie fidgeted, aware that something was going on, but she had no idea what. Was Lady Blackwell upset that Nicholas was pretending to court Sophie? If so, why?
Or was it possible that Lady Blackwell didn’t know the courtship was fake?
Either way, Sophie didn’t understand why she would care. Her son was a man of marriageable age. Surely it wasn’t so impossible that he would court someone.
Or was it Sophie herself that she found objectionable?
There was no scandal attached to Sophie’s name, but her sisters, on the other hand, did have something of a reputation. That said, Emma was a duchess, so people usually overlooked the scandal. After all, dukes and duchesses could do no wrong.
Perhaps it was simply that no one had told Lady Blackwell what was going on, and she didn’t like to be left in the dark.
The silence dragged on painfully.
Eventually, Lady Blackwell broke it. “I hope you’re being judicious.”
“Of course I am,” Nicholas said.
Sophie was lost.
“We were on our way home.” Nicholas motioned to the park entrance. “Since you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself, perhaps you’d like to accompany us.”
Sophie’s mouth twitched, but she managed not to grimace. She would prefer that her time with Nicholas not be interrupted, but clearly she wasn’t getting everything she wanted today.
“Yes, I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” Lady Blackwell said.
Awkwardly, she turned her horse around. The four ofthem guided their horses down the path, onto the street, and the rest of the way back to Carlisle House.
Nicholas and Lady Blackwell lingered while a stablehand helped Sophie down from Dandelion, but then mother and son departed, neither of them speaking, both looking straight ahead.
“What do you suppose that was about?” Sophie asked Betsy as the maid dismounted.
Betsy smoothed her skirt and rolled her shoulders back as if to dislodge knots in the muscle. “I couldn’t say, my lady. Mr. Blackwell seems a decent sort, but I’ll never understand the likes of Lady Blackwell.”
Sophie snorted. “Nor will I.”
She waited for the stablehand to take the horses, and then she and Betsy climbed the stairs and pushed the heavy door open to enter. Sophie considered going directly upstairs to change out of her riding attire, but her mother had asked for a report on the outing as soon as she returned, so instead she traipsed through the house until she found Lady Carlisle in a drawing room.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Lady Carlisle asked as Sophie wandered closer. She was doing some sort of needlework, but Sophie couldn’t tell what it was. She didn’t have much patience for that sort of thing herself, although she admired those who did.
“The first part of the outing was great fun.” She smiled at the memory of how she’d laughed at the top of her lungs as the breeze stirred her hair and the sun shone on her face. “But then the strangest thing happened. Lady Blackwell found us while we were on Rotten Row.”
Lady Carlisle’s hands paused, the needle in one poised to make another stitch. “That is unusual.”
Sophie hesitated, uncertain whether she was sticking her nose where it ought not to be, as she was prone to doing. “Isthere a reason why the dowager viscountess would disapprove of me as a prospective wife for Mr. Blackwell?”
At that, her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Did she say something untoward?”
Sophie shook her head. “I got the impression she disapproves of our courtship. I wasn’t sure if it was me she disapproved of or him courting anyone in general.”
