Page 52 of To Woo and to Wed
“A tempting offer,” West said, straight-faced—Jeremy had lost a bet to Diana and had been forced to wear what Sophie thought was quite possibly the most horrifying waistcoat known to mankind to his wedding, though it must be admitted that he had done so quite cheerfully.
“Oh!” Alexandra clasped her hands eagerly. “Sophie, we should buy new gowns! Perhaps we ought to go to the modiste together!”
“I have plenty of gowns,” Sophie said hastily. “I don’t think it’s necessary—”
“But not one you orderedspecificallyfor your wedding!” Alexandra said severely.
“I did not wear a new gown for my wedding,” Emily said, with a soft smile in her husband’s direction, “and I did not find the day lacking—oh!” She broke off, glancing down under the table. “Violet, did you just kick me?” Her voice was full of wounded betrayal.
“Why on earth would I do that?” Violet asked innocently, sipping from her wineglass. “But, Sophie, Alexandra is right—you should have a new gown!”
“If I am to be departing the ceremony on horseback,” Sophie said sweetly, “then would a new gown not be unwise? Much better to wear something older that I wouldn’t mind getting dirty if the horse kicks up a bit of mud, I should think.”
“It is not so difficult to remove mud from a gown!” Alexandra said airily, before faltering slightly. “Er, is it?”
A brief, uncertain silence fell.
“In any case,” Alexandra continued, seeing that no one had an answer for her, “I insist! New gowns for us both! I shall collect you tomorrow and we shall be off to a new modiste I’ve been meaning to visit.”
“Mmmm,” Sophie said, with as much enthusiasm as she was capable of mustering. She was acutely aware of Violet watching her like a hawk, and she plastered a more eager smile on her face. “I shall be anticipating it as I would anticipate… er…”
“Our wedding?” West suggested, very dryly.
“Precisely,” Sophie agreed feebly.
“Sophie, are you quite all right?” Betsy asked. “You look a bit unwell.”
“No doubt it is merely a touch of lovesickness,” Alexandra said breezily. “I’m sure it will subside.”
“Audley,” Blackford said, clearing his throat, “I heard you’re planning a visit to Oxfordshire to take a look at Risedale’s stables.”
Sophie shot Blackford a grateful look as talk turned to James and the Earl of Risedale’s scheme for building out his stables into some sort of profitable enterprise, and she relaxed slightly as the attention of the room shifted away from her. She took a healthy sip of wine, and glanced up to see West’s gaze on her.
He frowned in silent inquiry.Is anything wrong?
She shook her head with a small smile, and turned to Penvale, who was seated next to her, and who had been silently taking in the events of the past five minutes with a mildly nonplussed expression.
“I see it’s your turn to attempt to carry on a romance whilst ignoring the interference of our friends,” he said. “A solemn rite of passage for us all, you know.”
“Indeed.” Sophie took another healthy sip of wine, wishing briefly that it was something stronger.
“Cheer up,” Penvale said bracingly. “Once you’ve married and made a show of suitable matrimonial bliss, their attention moves on and you are allowed to become the smug married friend dispensing unwanted advice instead. It’s much more fun, I promise.”
Sophie laughed, lifting her glass to his in a toast, but couldn’t help thinking that it might not prove so simple in her case—because matrimonial bliss was not going to be the outcome.
Chapter Eighteen
By the time the dinnerparty broke up, it was past eleven; the meal had been followed by a rousing, somewhat inappropriate game of charades in the library—Jane, in particular, had proved surprisingly adept at imitating a seagull, to Penvale’s mystifying horror—which had been fueled by several glasses of port and sherry. At last, however, only West, Sophie, Violet, and James were left, Violet being helped into her wrap by James, who was admonishing her to be careful not to take a chill “for the sake of your delicate lungs” with an entirely straight face.
West took a deep breath. He’d made up his mind—and he trusted James and Violet to be discreet—but still…
“I have something I wish to discuss with Sophie,” he said carefully, flicking only the slightest glance in her direction as he spoke. “I can send her home in my carriage afterward.”
“All right,” Violet said, borderline gleeful, and wasted no time in seizing James by the arm and practically dragging him from the house, barely giving poor Briar enough time to bow them out the front door before they’d gone.
“You’re very quick, Briar!” Violet called admiringly over her shoulder. “It is helpful to have a butler with such youthful legs!”
Briar’s face was carefully blank as he shut the door behind them;he turned to West, said simply, “I can’t decide if that was an insult or not,” and bowed himself out of sight.
