Laura’s brow furrowed as she walked slowly down the hall toward the stairs and she hesitated at the landing, reluctant to go down to breakfast until all chance of encountering her uncle was past. On an impulse, she reversed direction, bounding up the stairs to the nursery level. She’d been kept so busy on the social circuit lately that there had been no time for outings with Aubrey. She knew from her mother that he and Henry Wright exchanged visits on a regular basis these days — a most satisfactory outcome, she was thinking as she knocked on the schoolroom door.
“I have missed you dreadfully, Aubrey,” she began when bidden to enter. “It seems ages since I’ve seen you.”
The boy looked up from the table where he was consuming a gigantic breakfast. A huge grin split his face in two at her exaggerated tone. “It must be the distance,” he said laconically, before taking another bite of eggs.
Laura slid into the other chair and absently appropriated a slice of toast from the rack which she proceeded to nibble. “It seems we have been out somewhere every single day this past fortnight, and entertaining callers whenever we are at home.” She sighed gustily and munched again on the toast.
“I miss our excursions with Lord Hastings,” Aubrey said, “but now that Henry’s knee is fine, Mr. Trent has been taking us on what Papa calls ‘educational outings’. We are going to tour the mint this afternoon.”
“That should be most interesting. I’m glad you and Henry have become friends.”
“So am I.”
“I promise I’ll pop in more often,” Laura said, rising from the chair. “At least we might find the odd hour for a game of chess.”
“We can have one right now if you like.”
Laura staggered back dramatically as though from a blow. “So this is your opinion of me as an adversary? You believe you can beat me in the few minutes before Mr. Trent is due! I am insulted, sir, and shall demand satisfaction. But not this morning,” she added in normal tones. “I must go down to breakfast.”
“You’ve already eaten mine,” the boy pointed out.
“Goodness, so I have! Forgive me,” she said contritely, “but mostly for ignoring you of late. I intended to stop in a few times, but I could hear that Mr. Trent was still with you.”
“That doesn’t stop Sophie.”
Laura blinked in confusion, then recalled, “Yes, I know she brought Henry up to see you one day when your tutor was here.”
“She comes in lots of times when Mr. Trent is here.”
“She does?” Laura croaked when the ripple of shock this casual announcement had produced had receded enough to permit speech. “Do … do they speak — to each other, I mean?”
“Of course.” Aubrey was gazing at her as if to assess her sanity, but Laura’s curiosity was beyond tact or caution.
“What do they talk about?”
“Music, mostly. Mr. Trent is as nutty on that subject as Sophie. He plays the violin.” Aubrey took the last slice of toast and lost interest in his tutor’s and sister’s passion for music.
“I see. Well, I must be off to breakfast.” With a feeble wave in response to the boy’s, Laura took herself out of the schoolroom. Contrary to her stated intention, however, she did not head for the staircase at once. Her paralysed brain was now functioning at double speed as it suddenly made sense of odd little happenings in the recent past. Sophia’s occasional appearances on this floor, bearing gifts for her cousin but unwilling to actually spend time in Laura’s room, were perfectly understandable in hindsight, as red herrings in the event she was seen near the schoolroom during the tutor’s hours in the house.
Laura had the tainted satisfaction of knowing she’d been correct to mistrust the pair’s display of indifference at their first meeting. Obviously there had been an instantaneous mutual attraction, but she’d wager the farm that any subsequent improving of the acquaintance had occurred at Sophia’s instigation, because she was convinced that Martin Trent was a very correct young man with a highly developed sense of honour.
The burning question was, of course, how far had their acquaintance progressed? Somehow Laura doubted that a few minutes’ conversation about music, even if they were daily occurrences, represented the full extent of their relationship. It struck her that Sophia’s occasional excursions to the lending library with her maid, errands on which she avoided her cousin’scompany, might provide opportunities for private trysts. Perhaps there were others also.
When Laura finally turned dragging footsteps toward the breakfast room, her concerns about Sir Cyril’s unwelcome courtship had paled in comparison with this new complication. She refused to allow her thoughts to stray into speculation about what her uncle’s probable reaction would be if he learned of his daughter’s clandestine friendship with the impecunious young man he’d engaged to tutor his son.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Laura was outwardly in command of herself in the days that followed, traipsing from one insipid social occasion to the next with a smile pasted on her face and a pleasant air of interest that was wholly spurious. Any pleasure she might have been expected to feel at their continuing popularity was tempered with considerable disquiet on her pretty cousin’s account.
Time and furious cogitation had produced no inspiration pointing to a course of action that might resolve the situation. The hope — never viable — that Sophia might confide in her was soon quashed each time it reared its feeble head. Meanwhile Laura suffered all the mental discomfort of any well-intentioned soul possessing vital information about another that the person in question would not wish known.
Certainly there were fewer opportunities for girlish confidences these days. Their recent schedules diverged more frequently as the cousins accepted invitations to drive out with various gentlemen and spent time with their own particular friends, Sophia with Dolly Chandler, and Laura with Lucy Cahill. Evening entertainments typically were a medley of brief encounters with numerous persons during the course of the programme, the number depending on the style of entertainment offered.
Sometimes the girls barely exchanged any speech except in the carriage en route. Strangely enough, Sophia seemed to be more fully engaged in the social round, scattering her favours impartially among a number of eager swains while trying unobtrusively — and unavailingly — to avoid the attentions of Sir Cyril Mildmay. There was no outward indication that she was less than perfectly content with their hectic schedules. After several days of discreet observation, Laura’s sense of impendingtrouble and fears for her cousin faded. It struck her as ironic that, despite the looming possibility of future unhappiness from two separate sources, Sophia seemed to be enjoying the season more than she who had no bedevilling problems on her horizon.
In truth, Laura was becoming rather jaded with the repetitive nature of their activities. The evenings, when graced by the element of music, were often delightful, and she continued to take real pleasure in dancing as her proficiency increased. It was the days she found trying, having been accustomed to useful occupation, mostly out of doors on the farm. When gentlemen she’d enjoyed dancing with had called and invited her to drive out with them, she’d been surprised into accepting at first. Invariably the gentlemen headed for the park and, though she welcomed the time outside, invariably the outings proved disappointing. She learned that expertise in the ballroom did not necessarily imply equal skill at handling the ribbons; nor did dance floor conversation suffice for an hour in the confined spaces of a sporting carriage, even with frequent pauses to greet acquaintances with whom one exchanged the self-same formulaic remarks each time.
The fault must lie with herself, Laura concluded uneasily. Was she such a scholar to expect to hear erudite philosophical dissertations or perceptive analyses of great literature from young men met in the course of a social event? Obviously not, but even her simple questions about current events or political issues were given short shrift by her escorts, who then returned to the social calendar or horses for their inspiration.
