“Almost certainly,” Elizabeth said, catching Lady Sophia’s delighted smirk.
Peters brought down the basket, and Samuel abandoned the horses for this new attraction.
“What’s in it?” he asked, already reaching for the lid.
“Marzipan fancies,” Lady Sophia said from the carriage window. “Iced biscuits in the shape of rabbits and hedgehogs; almond tarts, which are for the grown persons; and sugar plums, which are for children who do not ask too many questions.”
Samuel paused. “How many questions is too many?”
“That,” Lady Sophia said, descending with Peters’ assistance, “is an excellent question, and I find I cannot hold it against you.”
Rose, having released Jane, discovered Nettle. She buried her face in the dog’s wiry fur and pronounced her beautiful. Nettle, who usually maintained a low opinion of strangers, licked the girl’s ear with the solemnity of a dog fulfilling a civic duty.
Mrs. Gardiner appeared in the doorway after her children. Her gaze swept over the matched grays, the glinting crest, and the silver-haired woman anchored by a cane. Only the fractional lift of an eyebrow betrayed her surprise.
“Lizzy,” she said warmly. “You look radiant. And entirely out of your depth, which is usually when you are most entertaining.”
“Lady Sophia Mottistone, may I present my aunt, Mrs. Gardiner. Aunt, Lady Sophia is my newest godmother.”
“I crave your pardon, Mrs. Gardiner,” Lady Sophia said, her eyes twinkling. “But the prospect of a new acquaintance and a Leadenhall almond tart was far more tempting than another morning with a bad novel.”
“Please do come in. And pray do not trip over Thomas—he is somewhere examining his treasures.”
He was, in fact, clutching a large brass key and a beetle of uncertain species, both of which he clearly considered objects of equal importance.
“A collector,” Lady Sophia observed approvingly. “I had a nephew who kept his treasures in a box beneath his bed. He is now a Fellow of the Royal Society. One must never discourage a child’s instinct to hoard interesting objects.”
Alice herded her younger siblings into the house, her book still tucked under her arm. Nettle trotted over to nip at the girl’s skirts, apparently finding an interesting scent on the hem.
“She is quite wiry,” Alice observed, though she did not pull away. “And I like her wet nose.”
“She is an adventurer,” Elizabeth said, greeting her eldest niece with a kiss. “And I see you have brought an adventure of your own.” She nodded toward the book.
“The heroine is a ninny,” Alice said flatly. “She cries when it rains. But the horse is magnificent. He has the only sensible lines in the entire chapter.”
Lady Sophia smiled at this, tapping her cane. “The horse is nearly always the most intelligent creature in the room. In fiction, and certainly here in London.”
The party drifted into the drawing room, where Lady Sophia settled herself into the best armchair by the fire.
The tea service was soon settled, along with the distinctive Gardiner lemon cakes. Mrs. Gardiner gave Lady Sophia the good china—the thin-rimmed Sèvres, kept for guests whose requirements she considered worth the risk. This was not a detail Elizabeth missed.
Lady Sophia accepted her cup and turned it once in her fingers with appreciative attention. Her gaze was sharp with bright interest.
“You have the air of a woman who is perpetually packed for a journey,” Lady Sophia observed. “Miss Elizabeth tells me you are often in Hertfordshire.”
“Merely fond of my family,” Mrs. Gardiner replied. “My nieces are a magnetic north that keeps my carriage wheels in constant motion.”
“And your children? Do they prefer the mud of the country or the shops of town?”
“Alice would trade every shop in Cheapside for a sturdy pony and a book that doesn’t end in a wedding.” Mrs. Gardiner glanced toward the window seat, where Jane was suffering a very crooked plaiting at Rose’s hands while listening to the girl’s story about a runaway rabbit. “While Rose is very fond of brushing hair, it mostly results in tangles.”
Lady Sophia followed her gaze. “Your elder niece has a rare, quiet gravity. She sits there like a saint being martyred by a toddler, and yet she looks entirely content.”
“Jane has always given her complete attention without reserve,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “To everyone and everything she loves.”
“It is the rarest quality. And the most unguarded.”
For a moment, their eyes met—a swift, courteous exchange of understanding between two women who recognized each other’s intelligence.
