‘That is true, not that I have discovered any likely method of re-establishing myself with the divine Sophy. However, I shall use the news of Lady Harriet’s approaching nuptials as an excuse to pay a social call, and the worst she can do is have the aged butler throw me out upon my disreputable ear.’
This calamity did not, however, befall him, although Lady Sophy was not at home when he presented himself, and he initially found himself facing Lady Harriet, who used her cousin Susan’s presence as chaperonage.
‘I came to offer my congratulations, Lady Harriet, though I ought really to be offering them to Wittenham, for finding just such a lady as would make any man happy.’
Harriet blushed at this encomium, and murmured her thanks, shyly. Susan, he noted, curled her lip, as though she privately thought any man who would be happy with her cousin must be a very miserable specimen.
Making polite small talk beyond the obvious about the plans the newly betrothed had for their future was laborious, and Lord Rothley had just about given up and decided that he must leave without seeing Lady Sophy, when she entered the room, dressed for walking. Her cheeks paled a little, but she came forward and offered her hand calmly enough.
‘I am sorry, my lord. I have been out making purchases and was only told of your visit as I returned.’
‘It was a spur of the moment decision, ma’am,’ he lied, ‘so you could not have anticipated it. I hope you were successful?’
‘Successful?’
‘In your shopping expedition.’
‘Yes, oh yes, quite.’ She felt a little flustered. ‘It was merely fripperies.’
‘So you have not been followed home by a train of footmen labouring under heavy loads.’ He smiled, and she could not help but respond in kind.
‘Not at all. The sum of my success is contained in two small packages that I was able to carry for myself, my lord.’ She paused. ‘Have you been offered refreshment, sir?’
‘Oh, I am so sorry!’ Harriet put a hand to her mouth. ‘I completely forgot to do so, chattering away as I have been.’
‘Then rectify that omission by ringing for … would tea suffice, sir? Good, then tea, Harriet dear, and if you would be so kind as to permit me to change, I …’ Sophy took a deep breath and looked at his lordship very straight, ‘I would be grateful of the opportunity to have a few words with you, Lord Rothley.’
He could not tell from her expression whether these words would please him or not.
Sophy withdrew without undue haste, but rang for her maid with unusual vehemence, and was indecisive when asked which gown she chose to wear. Her voice was agitated, and she changed her mind three times before eventually deciding upon one in a soft blue with a simple appliquéd chevron design at the neck and lower edge of the bodice. It was a dress in which Sophy felt comfortable, knowing it suited her. She ‘revived’ her hair since it had been crushed by her bonnet, but did not linger. After all, the gentleman was waiting for her.
Therefore, it was only ten minutes later when she returned to the yellow saloon, to find her sister attempting to sound like the lady of the house and proffering the tea, whilst telling Lord Rothley that her intended was going to take her to visit his mama for a whole afternoon on the morrow, and that she had received a charming letter from his sister, Lady Holt. This had the unfortunate effect of reminding her of Susan’s recent escapade and made her blush and stumble over her next words. Lord Rothley pretended not to have noticed.
Sophy tried to look serene herself, but could imagine just how Harriet felt. She was about to engage in something far more embarrassing.
Lord Rothley rose as she entered, but she bade him be seated and drink his tea.
‘We are all,’ and she smiled in an inclusive way at Susan, ‘delighted that my sister has found a gentleman who will make her very happy and with whom she is well suited.’
‘Lord Edward is the fortunate one, ma’am.’
Sophy wondered if she was just imagining a hint of regret in Lord Rothley’s voice. He certainly felt that the cavalryman had contrived to emerge from the ‘war’ victorious, having done the equivalent of losing every battle on the way.
There was polite conversation, in which Susan took no part beyond the occasional response, but Harriet did not need the speaking look from her sister to know that whatever words Sophy wished to say to Lord Rothley, she wanted to say in private. Harriet, therefore, finished her tea and ‘remembered’ that she really must go and write a note to Miss Welling, their former governess.
‘She wrote to me as soon as she saw a copy of theMorning Post. Do please excuse me, my lord.’ She rose and added, ‘Come, cousin, we have things to do,’ as Rothley made his bow.
Susan stared at her, frowned, and then, as he inclined his head to her also, gave up, though she was heard to whisper to Harriet as they left, ‘I do not see that it is any more permissible that Sophy should be alone with a man, in spite of her age.’
Lord Rothley’s lips twitched, despite everything. The door closed, and he faced a flushed Lady Sophy.
‘You need not be concerned, ma’am, your decrepitude is not obvious, at least to me.’
She smiled, though only for a moment.
‘There are times those two do make me feel ancient, however. Please, my lord …’ She indicated that he should resume his seat but herself then rose and clasped her hands in front of her like a child forced to apologise before adults.
‘Is what you have to say so difficult?’ He smiled, trying to be encouraging, but it made her feel the more wretched for having thought the worst of him. ‘I feel distinctly uncomfortable sitting down whilst a lady stands. Please, do sit down, Lady Sophy. I am not, really I am not, your father about to hear of some mild misdemeanour.’
