Page 51 of To Woo and to Wed
“It is very charming for a man to take it into his head to host a dinner party, do you not think?” Violet asked brightly from within the cozy confines of her carriage.
James cast her a vaguely inquiring look, resembling, Sophie thought, nothing so much as a man who was half-afraid to hear whatever wasabout to come out of his wife’s mouth, but who had learned from long experience that it was always best to make at least a show of interest.
This was evidently all the encouragement Violet needed. “I mean to say—West has no wife!” She smiled dazzlingly at Sophie. “No one to serve as hostess! And yet he is hosting a dinner! It is rather as if a horse had taken it into its head to walk on two legs instead of four.”
This was apparently too great a slight to his sex for James to let pass. “How marvelous that a creature of such inferior intellect should manage such a feat.”
Violet turned innocent eyes upon her husband. “Oh, are youoffended, darling? Is it terribly exhausting, having someone behave as though the smallest achievement on the part of a member of your sex is so astonishing as to be barely credible? How dreadfully tiresome that must be! I cannot imagine what that must be like, of course.”
“Thank you, Violet, I believe you’ve made your point,” James said. “Though whyIshould be the one to receive this little monologue, when—last I checked—I have not done anything lately to incur your wrath, is beyond me.”
“I have not had anyone to monologue at in a self-righteous fashion on the inequities women face for at least a week,” Violet explained cheerfully. “I like to ensure that I don’t fall out of practice.”
“You’re in top form,” Sophie assured her.
“Ah, look, we’ve arrived!” James said, sounding as relieved as a man escaping the gallows, though Sophie did not miss the quick kiss he pressed to the top of Violet’s head before hopping out of the carriage and waiting to hand them down.
In short order, they had joined the throng in West’s drawing room, where everyone had assembled before dinner. It was a decent-sizedcrowd, thanks to the web of complicated family and friendship ties at work, and their party rounded out to an even twenty for dinner—an ambitious enough task for a seasoned hostess, much less for a bachelor. But West seemed entirely at ease as Sophie made her way to his side, where he lifted her hand to his mouth for a brief kiss. This dinner party was intended to be a celebration of their betrothal for only their closest friends and relations, separate from the more elaborate ball her mother was planning in her and Alexandra’s honor.
“Darling,” West said, offering her his arm, “I was just telling your sister here about Alexandra’s plans for the wedding. With the horses,” he added, dry as toast.
The sister in question was Maria; her husband was deep in conversation with Harriet’s and Betsy’s husbands, but Maria was focused entirely on West, wearing an expression of mild horror.
“Sophie,” she said, “you cannot possibly plan to leave your wedding ceremony on horseback.”
Sophie smiled serenely. “It was Alex’s idea—if you’ve a complaint, I suggest you inform her.”
Maria snorted, which itself was indicative of her distress—her fussy sister would ordinarily never allow such a noise to pass her lips, lest someone think her common. Maria had a great abhorrence of all things common—this might be why she seemed fond of West, come to think of it. No one in possession of their senses could ever mistake him for a man with even a nodding acquaintance with common.
“Since when have you been willing to acquiesce to a harebrained scheme, just because Alexandra suggested it?” Maria asked suspiciously.
Sophie bit back a sigh; the less than two years that separated herself and Maria had felt like a large gulf when they were girls, andSophie had felt protective toward her anxious younger sister, but as they’d grown, and Maria had learned to hide her anxiety behind a mask of propriety and occasional judgment, it had grown more difficult for Sophie to muster up those same feelings of protective affection that had once come so naturally to her.
The fact that Maria herself had played a role in Sophie’s hasty marriage to Bridewell was something, too, that Sophie had failed to entirely put out of her mind. This was not exactly fair, considering Maria herself remained entirely unaware of the threats the duke had made about her reputation; Sophie had been careful not to breathe a word of it, knowing that her sister would feel partly responsible. At the time, considering their parents’ fury surrounding the entire flirtation with Sandworth, Sophie rather thought Maria had been punished enough, without adding an extra layer of guilt to her woes. The fact remained, however, that Sophie had limited patience for being lectured aboutbad ideasby someone whose own lapse in judgment had proved to have such devastating, unintended consequences.
“It’s her wedding, too, Maria,” Sophie said shortly. “If she wants to leave on horseback, she’s perfectly within her rights to do so.”
“But why doyouneed to?” Maria pressed—a question that Sophie had not paused to consider previously. “Why are you having a double wedding at all? If you want different things for your weddings, doesn’t it make more sense to have separate ceremonies?”
“What a sensible idea,” West said, taking a healthy sip of his brandy. Sophie tried—and failed—not to look at the casual grip of his fingers on the glass, which summoned a memory of those same fingers brushing the underside of her breast a few nights earlier, just before Harriet had seen fit to interrupt them.
“I don’t understand why Alexandra wants a big wedding at all,” Maria said. “She already had one with her first husband.”
“She wants to celebrate finding love again,” Sophie said, feeling defensive. “I suppose that’s understandable.”
“But don’t you recall how she complained about it the first time?” Maria asked. “She hated all the pomp and fuss—said if she could do it over again, she’d elope to Gretna Green.”
“She was only joking—she doesn’t wish to kill Mama,” Sophie said, though now that Maria mentioned it, Sophie did recall some of Alexandra’s complaints, which she’d previously forgotten. Her rather shy sister had found all the attention overwhelming—entirely at odds with the woman who now had visions of a dramatic departure on horseback. It did seem a bit odd, but… “Besides, people are allowed to change their minds, Maria.”
Maria frowned suspiciously at this, clearly of the opinion that anyone so flighty as to change their mind should be regarded as untrustworthy at best, dangerous at worst.
Further conversation on the topic was forestalled by the ringing of the dinner bell, and the usual bit of scampering as everyone attempted to work out precedence for entering the dining room, though it seemed a bit silly, dining as they were solely among close friends. Eventually they were all settled around the table and the conversation was occupied for a while with discussions of plans for the end of the Season, when Jeremy would be hosting his annual hunting party at his estate in Wiltshire, an event that had taken on a less ribald, considerably more domestic flavor now that he’d married.
All too soon, however, conversation turned once more to Sophie’s alleged wedding.
“Have you decided what you’re going to wear?” Betsy asked, spearing a bite of roast duck with considerable gusto.
“If you need a waistcoat, West, Jeremy could loan you the one he wore forourwedding,” Diana offered slyly.
