Page 46 of A Secret Infatuation
She turned and their faces were close—close enough to kiss. After a brief, charged moment, she gently slipped her hand from his arm and looked up. He longed to recapture the moment but knew it would be pressing his luck. It was unfair to say so much in the character of someone else and not in his own skin. She needed to know that it was he, Felix Harwood, who spoke these words of love to her, Sophia Rowlandson—and that he meant them.
As soon as the lights from another starburst faded, he turned to her, accepting the added distance and returning to his light tones. “The unveiling is to be soon. Will I be allowed to see your true face, Diana?”
Her expression was mixed—part panic and part daring and playfulness that was her in character. “Perhaps.” Her lips turned upward. “If you are not sleeping.”
He smiled back, but his attention was diverted by the admiral escorting his wife to the rotunda, and he stepped back to make way.
Catching sight of him, the admiral turned with a bright smile. “Why, if it is not our dear Endymion! Was I not right to have kept every one of these costumes? They have certainly come in handy.”
Mrs. Mowbray’s reply was swallowed up as another boom sounded, followed by a flash of light. He turned to see whether the admiral had recognized his partner but was met with empty space. He looked around him, and there was no sign of her. It was as though she had melted out of sight.
“Oh,” he murmured to himself, disappointed. “It appears I have been dreaming after all.”
“Felix!”
Robert strode toward him, his displeasure evident. “Where did Lady Sophia go? I saw her with you just now.”
Felix turned to face him, irritated at the proprietary way Robert spoke of her. “I do not know. She did not inform me of her movements.”
“But you did know that the character of Diana was her. How? There is no similarity to how she usually looks. I would not have known if Miss Edwards had not mentioned it.” His gloved hands were fisted and a muscle quivering in his jaw showed how tightly it was clenched.
Felix was suddenly assailed by doubt. Did Robert have reason to be jealous?
“Have you an understanding with Lady Sophia?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled.
Robert looked away, frowning. “It is not an understanding in the classic sense, for nothing has yet been agreed upon between her man of business and mine. But it has long been understood that we would be paired.”
“By whom?” Felix asked. When Robert did not immediately answer, he pressed him further. “Does Lady Sophia accept this understanding?”
A giggling pair, dressed as a satyr and a beribboned courtesan, tipped into Robert from behind before joining the rotunda. He turned and scowled at them.
“My affair with Sophia is none of your business. I’ve said this before, but you had best leave her alone. There are thousands of other women in your sphere to choose from. Do not set your sights on her.”
“I will not remove Lady Sophia’s right to choose her own husband,” he shot back.
Felix could scarcely contain his fury. While he once might have agreed with Robert—conscious of what his own father was apt to remind him was all he owed to Lord Chawleigh—the constant suggestion that he was from a lower sphere began to grate. It was not as though he were a common laborer. He was a gentleman, a junior assistant in the Admiralty, and a member of Parliament. He had made an appointment to purchase a house in an area of London that was not to be scoffed at. Besides, he was fighting for reform—for people to be recognized for their merit rather than their birth—and did not the same apply to him?
Another fireworks shell burst as if in sympathy, and Felix used the distraction to turn away. He would not prolong the fight with Robert. Nor would he stop pursuing Lady Sophia.
Chapter 20
At the sight of Robert walking her way with purpose, Sophia did not stop to think and hurried back to their supper box. If Mr. Harwood had guessed who she was, then there was no reason to think she had stayed incognito, especially if she remained standing beside him.
What did Robert want? Was he coming to press his suit again? Trembling, she dodged partygoers, some who turned to watch her path and others who ignored her; fortunately all left her alone. Even if Robert had been the inducement to send her away, her flight was spurred on by her fear of remaining in place and letting Mr. Harwood confirm her identity for a certainty at the unmasking.
She needed time to think through the things he said to her—the things he had said about her. She could not believe he truly viewed her in such a light, while still daring to hope that the words he spoke were true. There had been enough evidence to believe they were, but the desperate fear that he had been mistaken in who she was continued to haunt her. In her more sensible moments, she could not doubt that Mr. Harwood knew. A man did not speak such words of love to a stranger without having any idea of who she was. But the niggling fear persisted that he had been speaking of someone else… Did he care for Marie after all? Was he letting Sophia know that it was her friend he admired?
She reached the door to their booth and lingered in the dark outside, sounds of female conversation reaching her through the thin board. Tortured, she shook her head, remembering all he had said, the words spinning through her mind again and again. She should take heart, for surely he had been addressing those words of love to her! But in the end, any courage she’d found in playing at someone else deserted her. Robert approached, the admiral drew Mr. Harwood’s attention, and she’d slipped into the crowd and disappeared.
Her mother and Dorothea sat alone in the booth talking comfortably and ignoring the excitement of the garden without. Apart from offering Sophia a smile and asking whether she had danced, they returned to their conversation about what qualities Dorothea should look for in a nurse, and Sophia was left alone with her thoughts.
A small tap came on the door to their box and Marie slipped into it, coming to sit beside her. After greeting Sophia’s mother and sister, she leaned in to whisper, “I saw you dancing with Mr. Harwood. Why did you not stay for the unmasking? Now that the fireworks display has ended, let us return.”
Sophia stared at her in surprise and consternation. Marie had seen her dancing with him and was truly not angry? After a small pause, she answered, “I do not wish to have my identity revealed.”
Her friend stared at her. “Why ever not?”
She tried to decide how to answer. It was cowardly, but she gave only a partial truth. “There are too many faces, and the idea intimidates me.”
