Page 33 of A Secret Infatuation
“Good evening. Everard, welcome home.” Dorothea walked toward him. When he tried to duck out of her embrace, she grabbed him by the ear and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Not so fast.”
He turned and made an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Dorry, is that you? You are beginning to look like a barge. I thought it was just your belly that was supposed to expand, but it looks as though your lips are, too.”
Miles stepped forward and placed a hand on Evo’s shoulder, pinning him with a steely look. “It is good to see you, Evo. I know we are due for another round at the gym, and I should not like to accidentally mar your handsome face with a direct strike.”
Evo’s face lit up, clearly enjoying the thought. “We shall go, then. Will Rock come with us?”
“Until you are an adult—and probably afterward—it is Lord Pembroke to you.” The earl just grinned.
“Let us all sit,” Sophia said, gesturing to the table.
Everyone chose the seat that was closest to them, and Evo, finding himself somewhere in the middle, looked around, frowning. “Should I not, as head of this family, be seated at the head of the table?”
“When you act like you are the head of the family, you may do so,” Dorothea said, as she placed her napkin on her lap. She then shot him an affectionate look. “I’ve missed you, Evo.”
“Fie! Do not grow maudlin on me.” He looked at Miles. “Is this what it is for women to be in the family way? My sympathies.” Miles laughed.
As the servants brought in the first course, Sophia thought it the right moment to bring up the masquerade. She had been worried all afternoon that perhaps if she did not go to the ball, it would be another opportunity for Marie and Mr. Harwood to become more closely acquainted. If that were to happen, she would not try to hinder it, but it was difficult to resist attempting to direct fate when nothing was yet decided. Besides, there was something freeing about the idea of a masquerade that appealed to her. Disguised as she was, she would not be recognized as the shy daughter of Lord Poole. One could be anything one wished when one’s identity was hidden. This gave her the courage to speak.
“Mama, this afternoon Marie told us there is to be a masquerade ball at Vauxhall.”
“I do not think a public masquerade is at all the thing,” Dorothea said. It was, however, spoken less categorically than it would have once been. Her look told Sophia she was not trying to ruin her fun but was merely concerned.
“Marie said that the Duchess of Wexcombe has reserved a supper box,” Camilla added. “It is being publicized so that the ton will know of its respectability. If she goes, surely we might reserve a box and go as well.”
Sophia looked in silent entreaty at her mother and then Dorothea, hoping they would approve. A moment of quiet followed Camilla’s statement, except for the clink of cutlery. Finally, Lady Poole addressed Miles.
“If you are able to reserve the supper box for us, and also come as our escort, then I think we might attend. If Her Grace deems it correct, I do not see why we might not enjoy the masquerade, as well.”
“You may depend upon it,” Miles said easily, then turned to Dorothea. “My dear, you may decide if you wish to come or not. Perhaps I will invite my cousin to join us in case I need to return early.” He turned to Lady Poole, adding, “If that is acceptable to you.”
It was agreed, then! Sophia sent Camilla a quick smile. She could hardly believe they had won their mother and sister over so easily.
“May I go as well?” Tilly asked.
Their mother seemed to consider it, and even Joanna looked hopeful, waiting for the answer. Although she had stated she did not anticipate her debut into Society parties with any enthusiasm, an outdoor masquerade ball with fireworks was a different matter.
“I think we might all go. But Matilda, you will not leave the box. And Joanna, you will not do so either. I will permit Sophia and Camilla to dance, but every other one of my children must stay in the supper box we have reserved unless accompanied by Miles or Lord Pembroke.”
Evo lifted up his fork, a bite of pigeon on it. “Mother, surely you will not tell the head of the family that he must stay in the supper box.”
Their mother sipped her wine and set down the glass, saying softly, “Oh no.” A rare mischievous look came over her as she added, “You may dance as well.” Camilla smothered her laughter in her napkin.
“You may laugh,” he said, glaring at his sister, “but I will have you know I excel at dancing. I just…choose not to do it.”
“I am sure you do,” Sophia assured him.
“What are you learning at school?” Joanna asked, drawing his attention to a more worthwhile topic of discussion. She tolerated dancing but did not enjoy it.
“Oh, the usual. Latin, geography…”
“I would like to learn geography. I’ve been reading the journals of Captain Cook’s adventures.” Her eyes shone as she looked around at her family. “Did you know that in New Holland, there is a creature the size of a greyhound, the color of a mouse—and that he hops on his hind legs like a rabbit?”
“That is not true,” Tilly said, determined not to be gullible.
“It is true,” Evo countered. “And he has a pocket to put his babies in—here.” He pointed to his midsection. “Imagine if we could stuff you in there. I would do it.”
Tilly went red. “You wouldn’t dare.”
