Lady Chelmarsh returned. She smiled at the sight of all three of her charges upon the dance floor, until she recognised Sophy’s partner. When the dance concluded and he escorted her from the floor, she received him graciously, but without any enthusiasm, and he did not linger.
‘How comes it that you were dancing with Rothley, Sophronia?’
‘He requested a dance, Mama. Both Harriet and Susan had partners for the dance, so I did not think I was being derelict in my duty.’ Sophy thought that her mother was being rather harsh if she expected her to refrain from dancing in such a circumstance.
‘Well, at least he did not dance with Susan,’ murmured Lady Chelmarsh, inexplicably.
‘Oh, but he did, before he danced with me. Sir Esmond Fawley introduced us, but you see it turns out he was the gentleman who picked up Susan’s parcel in Bond Street the other day.’
Her ladyship’s face went white beneath her powder.
‘Oh my God!’ she whispered.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lady Chelmarsh was somewhat restored by aglass of ratafia, but refused to elaborate upon why she regarded Lord Rothley with such disfavour. She simply told Sophy that it was not a suitable matter for discussion, and changed the subject as the younger girls returned with their partners. These two gentlemen at least found favour with her, and then offered their escort to supper. Lady Chelmarsh was perfectly content to enjoy the repast in the company of her eldest daughter, and nearly jumped when Lord Tyneham’s voice hailed her, and offered them both, with ponderous gallantry, his arm.
‘I … I did not know you would be here, Tyneham.’
Sophy wondered why her mother sounded nervous.
‘I was at school with the Orpingtons’ son, Ludovic. Indeed, I spent several weeks at their home one summer when we were boys.’
‘Oh.’ Lady Chelmarsh had little recollection of Augustus Tyneham as a child.
‘I see Bollington is taking Susan into supper. Excellent. Not that one expects much from a first party of course.’
Sophy was slightly shocked that Tyneham was quite as mercenary as his sister. Lady Chelmarsh made an indeterminate noise in her throat.
‘I do not generally dance, cousin, but in your case I would happily make an exception, after supper, for one of the country dances, perhaps.’ Tyneham smiled at her in a way which made her itch to tell him she would rather dance with one of the link boys from outside the house.
He made it sound, thought Sophy, that this was by nature of a kind gesture to one who might otherwise sit out the entire evening. However true that might be upon occasion, tonight she had already danced, very pleasurably, with two gentlemen, and to end it by dancing with her cousin would be, somehow, depressing. She answered in as non-committal a way as possible, and was delighted to be swept away by a lady whom she had not seen for some years as soon as supper was over. It was only when they were in the carriage home, that Sophy addressed the ‘problem’ of Lord Rothley again. Susan and Harriet were tired but jubilant, each feeling that the evening had been a huge success, and having secured partners after supper, which enabled both to claim suitably tired feet. Lady Chelmarsh was very quiet, and upon their arrival in Hill Street, went straight to her room, claiming a headache. Sophy made her preparations for bed in a thoughtful mood, dismissed the sleepy maid with thanks, and lay beneath the covers prey to many questions and no answers. It was while still contemplating these that she fell asleep, and dreamt of slavering wolves with twinkling eyes.
She resolved to press her mama upon the subject of Lord Rothley after breakfast, but found that Lady Chelmarsh was not only taking that repast in bed, but had issued instructions that she was not to be disturbed because she had slept badly. Harriet and Susan were unlikely to appear until noon at the earliest, and so Sophy, most unusually, had time to herself, without chaperoning duties. It was a clear morning, and although it was unfashionably early to do so, she sought to blow away the clouds of dreams from her head with a brisk walk in the Park. She selected a serviceable rather than ostentatious pelisse, and called upon the services of a footman rather than a maid, who would be inclined to dawdle. Under this doughty escort she was soon enjoying the fresh air of Hyde Park. She watched the morning riders, those interested in exercise rather than merely ‘being seen’ in the afternoon, with envy, and decided that she ought to hire mounts for herself and Harriet for the duration of their sojourn in London. She was not sure how well Susan rode, or indeed if she did at all, though she expected that she did, and as recklessly as she did everything else. So given up was she to thoughts of selecting horses that she did not at first hear herself hailed by a rider trotting up to walk beside her.
Sir Esmond Fawley looked down at her from his big bay.
‘I see you are not a lie-abed, Lady Sophronia,’ he commented in his slightly lazy voice.
‘No, indeed, Sir Esmond. I wish I had thought to provide myself with a mount, but thus far we have been so occupied with other things …’
He dismounted, and took his horse’s reins over its head so that he might walk beside her and not peer down onto the top of her bonnet.
‘Might I offer my services, ma’am, if you would prefer a gentleman as escort? Not that I think you need me to advise you, but … It is a very male environment, and you might feel more comfortable.’
She smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness.
‘Why, Sir Esmond, that would be most kind of you. I know just the sort of mount my sister would choose, but it is possible that my cousin might also accompany us. I say this in case you wish to rescind the offer.’
‘You think me cowardly, ma’am?’ He raised an eyebrow, and smiled, though there was seriousness beneath it.
‘Not at all, sir, but wisdom would dictate that if you sought a quiet life, you would not choose my cousin as company.’
‘Alas, not a coward, but in my dotage, to need “the quiet life”. Behold me crestfallen, Lady Sophronia, and may I assure you that I have not yet attained the decrepitude of thirty.’ He laughed, but she thought perhaps she had touched him upon the raw.
‘I do not think you advanced in years at all, Sir Esmond, but I do think you a man of sense, and to such my cousin might prove … trying.’
‘I am considered an even-tempered sort of fellow, I believe. I shall not be reduced to strangling your cousin, you know.’
