Her brother had woken with a sniffle, and Letty had said she would stay behind with him, as she had letters to write.
“There will be more fetes, Sophie.”
“I know. Now, do you want to tell me what is going on between you and Stephen?”
“No,” Amelia said, looking out of the other window. “Do you want to tell me what is going on between you and the Dark Lord?”
“Dark Lord?” Sophie queried.
“I gave him that name the first time I met him at a ball. He was all brooding and quiet and—well, dark.” Amelia laughed at Sophie’s puzzled expression. “It is only with you that he smiles, Sophie. It is obvious that he loves you, because when you are in the room, everyone else ceases to exist and his eyes follow your every move.”
“He has not said as much, and I’m afraid we argued yesterday,” Sophie admitted.
“He loves you, Sophie. So, whatever is going on between you two, I suggest you fix it.”
She nodded. “I will, but he is not always easy to talk to.”
Amelia laughed. “I’m sure he’s used to having things done his way. You will just have to convince him otherwise.”
“And how is it you are so wise about these things?”
“I’ve watched many married couples communicate,” her friend said.
“Well, as we are confiding in each other, then I must say that Stephen cannot take his eyes off you either.”
“He is far too arrogant and self-important.” Amelia dismissed the words with a flick of her wrist. But Sophie had seen the spark of interest in her eyes when Stephen was nearby. “Besides, until this business with Mother has reached a conclusion, I can think of nothing more.”
“You wrote to her when you arrived, and that letter will reach her soon. We will await her reply and then decide on the next course of action,” Sophie said. “You will always have a home with us, Amelia, no matter what the outcome is.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, taking the hand Sophie held out to her. “Now, we are going to enjoy ourselves today at the fete, eating food and purchasing whatever we wish.”
“I like that idea.”
Ribble had told Sophie his lordship would be needed to oversee things, which was why he would be there early.
What things, she had no idea.
“This is pretty,” Amelia said as the carriage clattered over a stone bridge into a lovely little village. Houses lined either side of the road, and Sophie saw people everywhere she looked.
“Clearly many are here for the fete.”
“They better have left me some fudge” was Amelia’s reply.
The fete was held on the village green opposite the church. Sights and smells that made their mouths water bombarded the ladies as they stepped down. People milled around a group of stalls displaying a variety of items. There were smiles and laughter and small children running in several different directions.
The sight reminded her of the village she’d been raised in, and she felt a pang of loss for her mother, who would be shocked and pleased to know what had become of her son and daughter.
“Hurry, there is shopping to be done,” Amelia said, towing Sophie toward the stalls.
Where is Patrick?
They wandered, they laughed, and Sophie introduced herself to people. Many spoke to her of Patrick, saying what a wonderful man he was and how generous he had been to the locals. She’d known he was a good man, but hearing it made her proud to be his countess, even if they were angry with each other.
Amelia spent most of the time with her mouth full of something sweet.
“Don’t you dare moan to me this evening, Amelia Logan, if your stomach hurts.”
“How could anything so delicious be harmful to a person? How is your arm, Sophie? Do you need to rest?”
