“No, Adriana! Even if I were comfortable inviting Mr. Mannerly to our home—which I am not—Father would take one look at him and forbid me to ever write to him again.”
“Ah, so youdolike him. Why else would it matter if your correspondence ended?”
Sophia pursed her mouth primly. “He has worthwhile commentaries on my writing.”
“Oh, pooh! You have written to such men before. They carry your esteem, but not your affection. I can see the difference, you know. There has been a glow about you ever since his letters started. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes.”
“It is?” Sophia was horrified. “Do you think Papa has noticed?”
“No doubt he has. Though it is unlikely he has made the connection between your girlish blushes and the letters. Not yet, anyway.”
“This is terrible! He mustn’t!”
“So, you admit I am right? Mr. Mannerly means more to you than mere academics?”
Sophia felt the heat of embarrassment flood through her body. “It seems I am no good at keeping my own secrets.”
“Truly, I am hurt that you evenhavesecrets from me,” Adriana protested. “Why, when you know all about Freddy?”
Sophia laughed. “Freddy is no secret. Even Papa knows about him. Honestly, Deedee, you haven’t eventriedto be subtle to keep the peace.”
“I suppose that is true.” Her sister shrugged. “I don’t like to be silent in the face of injustice. And Papa just sets me off.”
“Deedee.” Sophia’s voice was serious now. “You must restrain yourself. For my sake. I am not a fighter like you. If Father finds out that Mr. Mannerly makes me feel…well…anything, that will be the end of it. I shall be quite devastated. Do you understand? You are not to cause a scene on my behalf. Promise me.”
There was a long pause. Adriana appeared to be wrestling with herself. Finally, she nodded. “All right. I agree. On one condition.”
Sophia was almost afraid to ask. “What is it?”
“Papa will be going to London in the spring. He will be away for several weeks. And we will invite Mr. Mannerly and mydarling Freddy to dinner.” She put up a hand to stop Sophia’s cry of dismay in its tracks. “Either you don’t like young Mr. Tobias Mannerly and then it doesn’t matter what Papa thinks. Or youdolike him, and then, my dear sister, you should at least meet him. That is what normal people do. And for once, we are going to behave like normal young ladies. We will have our brothers here as chaperones. It will all be very proper and, I daresay, very pleasant.”
Sophia groaned. She sank lower onto her bed and pulled a pillow over her face. From beneath its down-filled bulge came a dissatisfied mumble.
“This is extortion.”
Adriana reached down and gently peeled the pillow back until she could see Sophia’s scowling eyes.
“Call it what you like, but I’m doing this for your own good. You can thank me later.”
And then, as if nothing had happened, Adriana left the room, swinging her arms happily and humming a tune Sophia did not recognize. Probably some romantic ditty their father would despise.
Chapter Three
Absolutely nothing onEarth could have prepared Tobias for the letter that came. He burst into his uncle’s study and waved the page about like a victory banner, which, for all intents and purposes, he felt it was.
“We’ve been invited! Actually invited! And for dinner, no less!”
The Earl of Carthige carefully removed his glasses with his long, elegant fingers, and placed them on the desk in front of him. He was a meticulous, methodical man, and everything was done in a way that reflected this.
“Dinner, you say?” he inquired with a minimum of interest. His mind was no doubt still on the page he had been forced to abandon.
“With the Grants!”
The lack of response should not have surprised Tobias. His uncle did not like to “endure the dull rituals of society,” as he called them—referring to anything that took him from his deep-seated fascination with books and art. A museum was more likely to receive a visit from him than a neighbor. Tobias imagined that, for a moment, his uncle had to recall who the Grantswere.
At last, clarity seemed to have dawned.
“Ah, yes, the Grants. Lovely people. I remember now. You are corresponding with the eldest daughter. A poet, is she not? A worthwhile endeavor. Good for her.” He reached for his glasses.
