Page 14 of A Secret Infatuation
A gentleman drew near, halting any further conversation between them and causing Sophia to grow tense. Robert Cunningworth towered over her, cutting off some of the scant light she’d had from a nearby sconce.
“Good evening, Lady Sophia. This is the first ball I have seen you at in London, and I am very pleased to find you here. I must not lose my opportunity to ask you to dance.”
She tried not to reveal any of the dismay she felt when she answered. “I shall be delighted.”
The words had been mumbled in scarcely more than a whisper, but he appeared to have heard them, for he gestured to the center of the room.
“Well, would you look? This set is ending. We might have our dance now.” He held out his arm, and Sophia had no choice but to put her hand on it.
She sent a glance back to Marie, who returned it but seemed oblivious to her extreme reluctance. Sophia had told her of Robert’s harassment in her childhood but had not disclosed that he had begun showing a determined pursuit of her—and that she loathed the idea. She wished that Camilla had come, for she would have deeply commiserated with Sophia’s obligation to dance with Robert and might even have found a way to spare her from it. The first in the set was to be a contredanse, and they took their places on the sidelines.
“You look pretty, Sophia.”
“Thank you.” Vaguely, she considered replying with something more but had no idea what else she could say. Robert did not seem to have any further ideas for conversation either and was silent as he watched the crowds shift around him. Then he turned suddenly. “It looks like Harwood is asking your friend to dance, and they are coming this way.”
Sophia glanced over and found Mr. Harwood’s eyes on her. He and Marie came up to them, and she returned his greeting with a curtsy.
Robert pulled her attention back to him. “Lady Sophia, this is the supper dance, so I shall have the pleasure of escorting you into the dining room afterward. You will like that, won’t you?”
She was unable to answer this. Against her will, her eyes went to Mr. Harwood. Any fantasy that he might have rescued her was routed when he turned to Marie.
“That is a capital idea. Miss Mowbray, if you will accompany me in, we might all dine together.” Marie’s answering smile was radiant, and Sophia’s heart sank even lower, slinking between the crevices of the rocks in her stomach.
“I am still waiting for your answer, Sophy,” Robert cried out with forced joviality, using the name her father had sometimes called her.
“Yes, if you wish it,” she replied softly.
The music began, sending the men to the line on the opposite side of the room. The evening was going by so quickly. She had forgotten that this was the supper dance—not that she would have had the courage to refuse Robert had she known. One virtue presented itself, however. She would be near Mr. Harwood in a quieter setting, even if he were not her escort.
As the last notes of the dance died down, they made a reverence to their partners and followed the crowds into an adjoining room, where small round tables were placed close together to allow everyone to be seated. Robert claimed one and held out a chair for Sophia before taking one himself. Mr. Harwood did the same for Marie, but remained standing.
“Mr. Cunningworth and I will gladly fetch you ladies a plate of something to eat, if you will trust us with the selection.”
Marie’s ready smile was directed up at him. “Gladly.”
Sophia was required to voice some agreement. “Thank you, Mr. Cunningworth.” That would have to do, for enthusiasm was far out of reach.
When they were alone, Marie’s good humor filled the space between them. “Isn’t Mr. Harwood an exemplary gentleman?”
This was nothing new, for she had already told Sophia as much after her father recounted the story in Brighton. But it seemed tonight her interest had turned decidedly in his direction. Sophia had to know. “Do…do you like him, then?”
“Exceedingly,” Marie said with a grin that produced an instant pain in Sophia’s heart. “And I think he is not indifferent to me. I will not say that I have handed him my heart, for this is my first season and I intend to have my fun. But I should not be disappointed to know more of him, and to perhaps enter into a courtship with time.”
This last bit was said with teasing that normally would have made Sophia smile, but she could only nod, her face grave. She was being even more uninteresting than usual, and her friend sensed it.
With a glance at the gentlemen still in line for refreshments, Marie turned back. “What is it, Sophia? You do not seem happy tonight. You are not upset with me, I trust?”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. Please do not think it. Perhaps I am just tired.” She was quiet for a moment. “I do not know what it is.”
Marie studied her with true concern, then leaned in to murmur, “I believe I know what it is.” Sophia turned to her in surprise. Surely she could not have guessed? “You are discouraged to have to sit at supper with Mr. Cunningworth. I know you are not fond of him and never have been. But do you not think he has changed a little since he was the obnoxious youth always causing you trouble?”
She was unsure of what to answer. Robert had changed some, it was true. But to admit it might lead her friend to think there was still a chance she could like him. Such a thing was impossible.
She was not obliged to return a reply, for the gentlemen arrived, depositing plates in front of them. They were filled with a selection of meats and cheeses, savory tarts, sweetmeats, sugared almonds, and fresh fruit. She forced her gaze to meet Robert’s expectant one. “Thank you.”
“I aim to please.” He sat and began eating what was in front of him. Sophia looked at hers and took a bite of the tart.
“Have you been well, Lady Sophia, since we last met?” This was from Mr. Harwood, and she looked up in surprise, a new spear of hope shooting through her to see his attention directed toward her. She was able to respond to it with a smile that did not need to be forced.
