Page 6 of A Secret Infatuation
Lady Camilla turned and saw him in contemplation and lifted her hand in a wave, which he could not ignore. Regardless of Lady Sophia’s disapproval, he had been tempted to go over to them. After all, he was not so far beneath her as to warrant a snub. They had met twice in a perfectly respectable social setting, for heaven’s sake. He directed his horse over to the barouche and reached it at a timely moment, for the row of equipages had come to a stop as people chatted across carriages or to those on horseback.
“Good afternoon, Lady Poole.” Felix smiled and bowed to the countess, then repeated the greeting for each of the sisters, taking care to greet them with equal consideration. When he came to the last one, he paused for an introduction.
“This is my youngest daughter, Lady Matilda,” Lady Poole said.
He bowed from where he sat on horseback, thinking that he had never heard Lady Sophia speak, other than a murmured response to what someone else had asked her, or her request for how they took their tea—a request she made to everyone but him. Not even on the day when he had turned Robert away from taunting her had she spoken. He supposed he could not blame her for that. His own sister was shy, and Lady Sophia had looked as frozen as Meg sometimes did when Society pressed its obligations on her. Still, it would be nice to hear Lady Sophia’s thoughts.
“Are you here with someone, Mr. Harwood?” Lady Camilla asked.
“I am to meet Robert Cunningworth, Tom Perkins, and Grantly. We split ways since my horse is not stabled near theirs, and I have not seen them since I arrived in the park.” At this, Lady Sophia surprised him with her direct regard. He was even more surprised when she opened her mouth to speak.
“Where is your horse stabled?”
The question was not an unusual one except that it had come from Lady Sophia, and it had the strange effect on him of slowing time. She did speak, and it was a sweet voice. Not only had she spoken to him, but the words had come from her lips voluntarily. This appeared to be an anomaly, for the occurrence produced an effect on her sisters as well. They all turned to stare at Sophia until she turned pink.
In his haste to pull the attention from her and release the strange tension, he answered, “My horse is stabled on Drury Lane.”
“I see.”
She nodded, then turned to stare at some point ahead until the moment grew awkward again. Felix had thought of Lady Sophia a handful of times since they had met in Chawleigh Manor all those years ago, and he could not sort out why every moment now seemed significant. He smiled through the discomfort that had settled on the party, then lifted his hat.
“It seems the carriages are about to move again. I shall not keep you, but will wish you all a pleasant afternoon.” He rode onward, trying to make sense of the odd feeling that had filled him at the sound of her voice.
Robert was still nowhere in sight, so he went in search of him. The park was packed with people, but he recognized no one and was granted a few minutes’ privacy with his thoughts. Why did every small moment with Lady Sophia stand out in his mind? He had mostly thought of her as an excessively shy young lady after the first meeting at Chawleigh Manor. During their dinner last night, however, he could not help but be more aware of her presence. He had to own to himself that he must like her at least a little bit, or his senses would not be heightened in such an unaccountable way whenever they met. He could not pursue her, of course, but he supposed it natural to be a bit infatuated with such a beauty. Especially since she gave so little of herself and remained something of an enigma. Was it not normal for a man to wish to unravel a mystery? That must be it.
“Felix!” Robert waved him over to their party from the stretch ahead.
He urged his horse into a canter, feeling suddenly and inexplicably hopeful. He brought his gelding alongside theirs and readily approved their idea to ride along the edge of the path and circumvent the carriages. They had no chance to talk as they performed the maneuver, and it gave Felix additional time to reflect. In doing so, his thoughts turned in a more sober direction.
When Lady Sophia spoke audibly and of her own volition for the first time, it was to ask him where he stabled his horse. Was it not so she might judge how wealthy a man he was? For she would assume at once when he said Drury Lane that he could not afford anything closer to the fashionable area. Was she using that as a way of measuring whether he was worth her attention? Given her extreme reserve with him, it seemed likely she was.
“What is it, Harwood?” Perkins had ridden beside him and was looking at him curiously. Only then did Felix realize he was frowning.
“Hm? Oh—nothing, I assure you. Just some dust in my eye that is irritating me.”
“With this mud? Astonishing.”
Perkins was not the brightest of fellows, Felix decided. He wouldn’t let a man make up an excuse so he might keep his own counsel. He was saved from further scrutiny by Robert, who reined in and turned his horse.
“There doesn’t appear to be anyone of interest here. I am hoping I might see Lady Sophia while we are out. Let us go to Gunter’s instead. We might have better luck there.” He turned his horse to follow a path that led directly to the teahouse and away from Lady Sophia. Grantly and Perkins turned to follow.
Last night, Felix had wondered if Robert was openly pursuing Lady Sophia, and now his suspicion was confirmed. He knew he should tell his friend that Lady Sophia was in the park and could likely be found if they retraced their path. It was only right to do so. But instead he kept silent and followed in Robert’s wake.
Chapter 3
A week had passed since their dinner at the Chawleighs’ London house—and six days since Sophia had seen Mr. Harwood in the park, where she had managed to speak to him. She had opened her lips to ask a completely unprompted question. He’d answered most naturally, but it surprised even her mother and sisters so much they exclaimed about it afterward. Sophia managed to satisfy their curiosity with the claim that she was attempting to speak up more—practicing so she might be ready for all of the season’s events. Despite the fact that her resolve to put Mr. Harwood entirely out of her mind had been cast aside in that moment, she could not regret her impulse in having addressed him, for she had shown herself—and him—that she was capable of it.
Sophia held on to that small triumph now, as she was about to undergo the most terrifying experience of her lifetime. She was required to make her presentation to the queen, and the anticipation, the expectation, left her bound by fear like a prisoner awaiting conviction. Her tight corset, ridiculous puffed skirt that went all the way up to her bodice—completely removing any trace of a figure, by the way—and the feathers pinned to her hair in a Prince-of-Wales plume certainly did not help her to feel any more like herself.
“Dorry, I am not sure I can go through with this,” she murmured breathlessly from inside their carriage as they inched forward in their approach to St. James’s Palace. They were almost to where the road met Pall Mall.
Her sister, Lady Dorothea Shaw, had been married for just under a year and was already expecting her first child. She sat beside her husband Miles in the forward-facing seat, across from Sophia. It was the only way both sisters would fit with their wide skirts, a necessary part of their elaborate court dress, and Dorothea was too ill in the early stages to take the rear-facing seat.
“You can and must fulfill this obligation,” Dorothea replied firmly. “How we ever managed to secure vouchers to Almack’s last year without my having been presented is a mystery to me still. I can only suppose it was because our father had departed this Earth before he could properly introduce us to the ton, and we were accorded a measure of grace.”
Sophia didn’t respond, and after a moment, a mischievous chuckle escaped Dorothea. “That, or the patronesses consider their reign superior to that of the queen and did not care whether or not we’d been presented. But you may be sure no such reprieve will be extended to us again this year. We are not so distinguished as to forego this courtesy to the queen.”
Sophia knit her brows, unwilling to contradict her sister but unable to stay silent at words she considered unjust. “I am sure the patronesses do not think themselves above the queen. Only think of how kind Lady Sefton is. And Lady Jersey, how droll! They were merely being gracious regarding our circumstances.”
