Sophy was laughing, laughing because the bubble of happiness within her could not be contained. He smiled. It seemed all they had to do was await the morrow, and Lord Rothley’s visit.
Lord Rothley took extra time over his appearance the next morning. He had not slept especially well, though this was more anticipation than nervousness. He could happily have banged upon the Chelmarsh residence door at eight in the morning, but this would have been precipitate. He therefore remained at his lodgings, pacing about like a caged tiger, until a little short of eleven, and then went round to Hill Street.
Bembridge greeted him in what he felt was an avuncular fashion, Lady Sophronia having artlessly informed the butler that Lord Rothley was expected to call during the morning to speak with his lordship. Bembridge was perfectly able to put two and two together and make the answer four.
‘If you will just wait in here, my lord, I will inform his lordship of your arrival.’
Lord Rothley was shown into a small saloon. A couple of minutes later, the door opened and Sophy entered, dressed for outdoors.
‘Oh, I am so sorry, I should have said. I am taking Harriet and Susan to the Military Review in Hyde Park, and to get a good position for the carriage we need to leave now. When you have seen Papa, I will not be here.’
She sounded like a child about to be denied a promised treat. He took her gloved hand, pushed the glove back, and placed a small kiss on the inside of her wrist.
‘Then I will return at a suitable time. I think I can keep my composure for a few more hours. What time is the review likely to end?’
‘About three o’clock, I believe, and however patient you may be sir, I am not.’ Sophy dimpled. ‘I never had an offer of marriage before, and it is very exciting.’
He nearly said that if just the act of being asked was exciting he dared not envisage her response to actually getting married, being married, but he merely declared, ‘Then I shall be here by half past that hour.’
She looked at him, her eyes very soft and full of tenderness, which made him want to kiss her very much.
‘I hope you and Papa have a comfortable exchange. He is a very nice Papa, I assure you.’
He was still holding her hand, and he drew her gently towards him and brushed her lips with his own.
‘Until this afternoon,’ he murmured, a trifle thickly.
Sophy stepped back, one hand to her bosom, and nodded. She had no words. Then she turned and left, just as Bembridge opened the door. The butler stepped back and held it wide for her to pass, blushing, and gave what might just have been a sigh.
‘Lord Chelmarsh will see you now, my lord, if you would be so good as to follow me.’
The natural nervousness of the suitor, even one expecting a positive response, made Lord Rothley feel unusually self-conscious. Lord Chelmarsh did not, however, greet him in the manner of one’s housemaster after a discovered prank. Instead, he came forward, his hand extended, and an understanding smile on his face.
‘Good morning, Rothley. Do take a seat, my dear fellow.’ Lord Rothley sat, but not at ease. ‘I will not pretend that I have no idea why you are here. Sophy has already instructed me on what I must say.’ His smile lengthened. ‘I am very fond of my eldest daughter.’
‘So am I, sir.’
‘Yes. Indeed, I surmised that must be so.’
‘Your daughter is of age, of course, but I would like your approval of my paying her my addresses. I also felt you should know that my father has the title and an allowance, but that my grandfather ensured that the estates came to my stewardship. You need have no fear that Sophy will be in straitened circumstances.’
‘That is very honest of you. I shall be equally honest. If I had the slightest idea that you were like your father, I would not be sitting here as I am, not only giving “approval” as you call it, but welcoming you into the family. Sophy is … One should not have favourites, but I will say that I have had an especially soft spot for my eldest child. She has rare qualities which have apparently been overlooked until now, since you are the first gentleman ever to apply to me for her hand.’
‘I will value her, sir. Saying I will do everything I can to make her happy, love her, protect her, sounds rather trite. I suppose any man would say the same in my position. It does not make those things less true, though.’ Lord Rothley looked rather serious.
His prospective father-in-law rose and pulled the bell.
‘I think we are in danger of becoming too serious on what is a joyful occasion. I rarely come to Town, but I recall some very good claret in the cellar. This seems a suitable reason for broaching a bottle.’ Bembridge knocked and entered. ‘Ah, Bembridge, we would like claret, the really good claret. I am sure you know just where to find it.’
‘I do, my lord.’ Bembridge looked as pleased as if he had been invited to join them in a glass.
‘Now, Rothley,’ Lord Chelmarsh made himself comfortable, ‘on your estates in Worcestershire, do you have many dairy cattle?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sophy climbed into Lady Chelmarsh’s barouchein such a daze that Harriet had to ask her twice whether she wished to face forward or towards the rear.
‘Oh, I am sorry, Harry. I do not mind, honestly I do not.’
