Page 9 of A Secret Infatuation
Only now, Mr. Harwood was here in London, and that changed things. She wondered what he had thought about returning to Friary Court with a carriage, only to find out she had left. Was he irritated? Disappointed?
“Going back to your rather alarming greeting,” Marie began as she settled herself, “I am eager to know what has happened since you’ve arrived. It has only been two weeks, so I suspect not much could have.”
“How little you know,” Sophia said, smiling with fabricated self-importance. As her mind spun through where she should begin—considering again the notion of bringing up Mr. Harwood as a person of significance and rejecting it—she poured tea for her friend and passed the sugar bowl to her. After pouring a cup for herself, she was ready.
“Dorry fainted in the queen’s drawing room.” The effect this piece of news had on Marie was pronounced, for her friend thought the world of Dorothea and her ability to manage all circumstances. She returned an open-mouthed stare.
“Lady Dorothea? I find that astonishing.” She absorbed the news in silence for a moment, then glanced back at Sophia, a smile making an appearance. “I have sometimes felt she could lead an army against Napoleon.”
Sophia laughed. “She did indeed—faint, that is—and I still cannot believe that it was not me who did so.”
“Do you know why she did?” Marie sat back and sipped her tea. It already felt natural to have her in their London drawing room. Sophia had not realized just how much she missed having a close confidant, especially since Dorothea would not be taking on that role this season.
“I wrote to you that she is increasing,” she began, and when Marie nodded, went on. “We all think that must be the reason for it. In any case, the doctor said there is no cause for alarm. It does not appear the baby was injured in the fall.”
“And yet, women with less strength than Dorothea do not generally faint…” Her voice trailed away, and Marie sent her a guilty look. “But I do not mean to be alarmist, for the doctor has said all is well.”
“Dorry said she cannot account for it either, except that perhaps she did not eat enough for breakfast. She admitted to being a little nervous to meet the queen, which surprised me, but assures me she is perfectly well now. Miles will not give any weight to her assurances and has insisted she remain at home for at least a fortnight. He would have her remain in bed if he could, but I do not think she will submit to that.”
“Nor do I.” Marie laughed. She set down her cup and clasped her hands, leaning forward. “And what of other news? How are your sisters doing? How are they filling their time while you attend all of the season’s activities?”
“The start to the season has been slow, thankfully.” Sophia sighed. “I would have loved for Camilla to have had her come-out this year, but she is only attending select events of a more private nature. Mama thought it best that the focus be on me this year.”
“And I know how much you enjoy that.”
This pulled a smile from Sophia. No one made her laugh as much as Marie. Her sisters tended to protect her, her mother to lean on her, and her brother to provoke her. Marie simply accepted her—and listened, teased, or recounted the most ordinary things.
“Camilla makes frequent trips to Hookham’s for whatever latest novel is all the rage. Joanna, as you’d expect, is out riding every morning with our groom. She comes with us in the barouche when we go to Hyde Park, but I suspect that is just to see who is riding what horse.”
“And Matilda? Everard?” Marie was a longtime family friend, and although she sometimes called the siblings by their honorifics when addressing them, she called Sophia by her first name and generally did the same when speaking of the others.
“Evo will not be home until Easter vacation, and I must say that although I miss him, my mind rests easy knowing he is under his housemaster’s rule.”
“And does not require you to keep him in line,” Marie added.
Sophia nodded. “Tilly still follows Joanna around whenever permitted. And when Joanna pushes her off, she is content to sit with me and work on her embroidery or sketches. She prefers my company to the governess, although Miss Cross has been nothing but kind to us all. Dorothea plans to hire her for her own schoolroom when the time comes.”
“That is good. Miss Cross is accustomed to your ways and you to hers.” Their conversation had settled into its usual easy rhythm. “Was Dorothea’s indisposition the only pressing news, then?”
Sophia thought again about bringing up the dinner and the other events relating to Mr. Harwood but decided they were too insignificant to talk about and nodded.
“Well, for my part, I am still astonished that my father has finally decided to bring us to London.” Marie’s pretty brown eyes were now positively glowing. “For two years, my mother urged him to rent a larger house and allow me to take my place in Society, and he has finally done so.”
“What caused his change of heart?” Sophia handed Marie a piece of lemon cake when she noticed her guest had not served herself.
“Now that Papa is attempting to bring about reform through Parliament, he will spend the entire season in London.” She bit into the cake. “Mm. My compliments to your cook. He hopes to end some of the corrupt practices, such as positions in the Admiralty being given based on favor rather than merit. I cannot help but confess my selfish pleasure that his goal coincides with my own—of spending the season in London, I mean to say.”
“It is not selfish to wish to come to London. Or, if it is, then I am selfish for wishing you here.” Sophia smiled and reached for the separate jug to add more hot water to the teapot. “I had not realized your father was to join Parliament.”
“Oh, he is not. He does not have the stamina for the long debates. But he has seated someone he trusts in Gatton, and Papa will act through his proxy. He is from Sussex, not terribly far from us—a gentleman by the name of Mr. Harwood.”
Sophia was in the act of stirring in more tea leaves, and she dropped the spoon into the pot with a small clatter. The loud noise jarred her as much as the news. Catching herself, she continued stirring without looking at her friend, her mind reeling at the surprise of hearing his name. Here, she had been trying to decide if she would speak of him to Marie, but her friend had done so first. Was that not significant? As her mind raced to find an appropriate response, Sophia settled on admitting to knowing him, for they would eventually all meet, and Marie would wonder at it if she said nothing about their acquaintance.
“I have met Mr. Harwood briefly. Once, years ago at Chawleigh Manor, and then again recently at their house in London.” When she felt it safe to look up, she added, “In fact, he happened to be at St. James’s Palace when we were coming out with Dorothea, and I asked him to fetch a rental carriage. I fear I sent him on a fool’s errand, though, for we left in Lord Bartoff’s carriage before he returned. I hope he was not vexed with me.”
Marie shook her head. “I cannot see how he would be. I have not met him, but my father promised to have him come to dine.” She sent Sophia a mischievous smile. “He is purported to be handsome—is he?”
“I…I cannot say.” In that moment, she wished she were anywhere but here.
