He left the soiree without saying goodbye to his host. He climbed into his carriage and rode through the dark streets of London, alone with his thoughts, his memories, and the growing certainty that no matter how many suitable ladies he courted, none of them would make him forget the unsuitable one who had somehow burrowed beneath his skin.
He was in trouble.
He was in so much trouble.
CHAPTER 15
“Awidower of fifty-two seeking companionship.” Mr. Colborne peered at his own copy through his spectacles. “He lists his requirements aspleasant disposition, modest expectations, and a tolerance for snoring.At least the man is honest.”
The candle guttered in its holder, casting dancing shadows across Mr. Colborne’s cluttered desk. Sophia bent over the latest application, her quill scratching against parchment as she composed her reply.
“Honesty is refreshing.” Sophia dipped her quill in the inkwell. “Mrs. Elmwood would suit him. She wrote to us last month, if you recall. Widow of a clergyman. She mentioned that her late husband snored like a freight cart, and she found it comforting.”
Mr. Colborne shuffled through his stack of papers. “Ah, yes. Here she is. Pleasant woman. Realistic expectations.” He set the application aside. “I shall arrange for them to cross paths at a poetry reading.”
Sophia nodded and continued writing. The familiar rhythm of the work soothed something restless inside her. Here, in this cramped office with its ink-stained floors and tottering stacks of correspondence, she was not Lady Sophia Readthorpe, aging spinster and object of pity. She was Lady Fairhart. She was useful. She was good at something.
“We have had three new applications this week.” Mr. Colborne leaned back in his chair. “Word spreads. Lady Fairhart’s reputation grows.”
“That is good news.” Sophia signed the letter with her flourish and reached for the sealing wax.
“It is. Although I confess, I worry about the season’s end.” Mr. Colborne polished his spectacles on his sleeve. “Once the families retreat to their country estates for house parties, our business will slow considerably.”
“House parties.” Sophia pressed her seal into the warm wax. “I have always found them rather fraught.”
“Fraught indeed.” Mr. Colborne chuckled. “House parties bring out the other side of people. Proposals happen. Scandals break out. Something about being confined together in the countryside makes folk behave in ways they never would in London.” He shook his head. “We have matched more than one couple who met under such circumstances. And we have had more than one application from someone fleeing such circumstances.”
Sophia tucked that observation away. She gathered the completed letters and rose from her chair. “I should go. It’s almost dawn.”
Mr. Colborne handed her the payment pouch. “Safe travels, Lady Sophia. Until next time.”
She slipped out into the gray predawn streets, her hood pulled low, her mind already turning to the day ahead.
Hyde Park glittered in the afternoon sun. Ladies in pastel gowns strolled along the paths, their parasols bobbing like colorful mushrooms. Gentlemen tipped their hats. Children shrieked and chased one another across the grass while their nursemaids looked on with varying degrees of alarm.
Sophia walked arm in arm with her mother, savoring the warmth on her face and the simple pleasure of an afternoon away from worry.
“Your father would love a day like this.” Lady Brimsey’s voice held a wistful note. “He always says the park was wasted on people who only used it to see and be seen. He prefers to sit by the Serpentine and watch the ducks.”
“I remember.” Sophia squeezed her mother’s arm. “He used to bring bread crusts in his pockets. The ducks would swarm him like he was their long-lost king.”
Her mother laughed, a sound that had grown rare in recent months. “He named them, you know. Every single one. He was convinced they recognized him. Probably still is.”
“And they probably did. Papa had that effect on creatures.” Sophia smiled at the memory. “Has there been any news from the country?”
Lady Brimsey’s smile faded. “The doctor writes that his condition remains stable. No better, but no worse. He has good days and bad days.” She paused. “Lily sends her love. She asks constantly when you will visit.”
Guilt twisted in Sophia’s chest. Her little sister had been sent to stay with their aunt in the country to shield her from the worst of the family’s troubles. Sophia had not seen her in months, and she missed her dearly.
“Soon.” The word felt hollow even as she spoke it. “Once things are more settled.”
“Lily understands more than you think.” Her mother patted her hand. “She knows you are working to keep us safe. She is proud of you, Sophia. As am I.”
Sophia blinked against the sting in her eyes. Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the pleasant afternoon air.
“Lady Brimsey! Lady Sophia! What a delightful surprise.”
Lady Clarissa Whitby approached with two companions in tow. Her smile was sharp as a blade. She wore a gown of pale lavender that probably cost more than Sophia’s entire wardrobe, and her parasol matched perfectly.
