Page 12 of A Secret Infatuation
It seemed the admiral could not let Mr. Harwood continue without including what he considered to be essential facts, for he took over the narrative again.
“Mr. Harwood is too modest. A naval officer was about to throw a punch at an enlisted soldier, and Mr. Harwood stepped between them and took the blow himself. Instead of reacting to the slight and allowing a brawl to occur, he reminded the officer of how important the navy’s contribution was in defending the crown.”
The admiral’s eyes twinkled with approval. “Mr. Harwood went on to say that he was quite sure the navy was as devoted to keeping the shores protected as the army, and that the officer would not want to give Napoleon the satisfaction of internal altercations occurring within the British men-at-arms. He then proceeded to buy drinks for all of the naval officers, thereby winning peace for the night and my admiration for his diplomacy once I’d heard of it.”
Mr. Harwood said nothing, and the admiral urged Mr. Edwards to confirm the story, which he did.
“And so, Mr. Edwards brought the matter to my attention as soon as he had learned of it, and I recommended Mr. Harwood for an assistant secretary position at the Admiralty, which he was pleased to accept.”
Sophia guessed that Mr. Harwood was uncomfortable with such praise, for he gave another feeble smile and did not seek anyone’s regard. However, the story could only provoke her to greater admiration. It perfectly accorded with what she had seen of him that day in Chawleigh Manor when he had simultaneously defended her and smoothed over the incident with Robert, someone known for being difficult to please.
The conversation moved on to other subjects, and Mr. Harwood asked Marie what it was like to be daughter to an admiral. She laughed and launched into a diverting list of what it meant to be his daughter for good or for ill. It made Sophia’s heart ache to be in the presence of such an outstanding gentleman as Mr. Harwood, and to know that, unlike Marie, nothing about her could inspire him to return the admiration.
At the end of the evening, the guests gathered in the hall, ready to depart. Sophia was given an unlooked-for opportunity to speak to Mr. Harwood, for Mr. Edwards had stopped the Mowbrays with an interesting piece of Admiralty gossip that he promised even the ladies would wish to know.
With firm resolve, she touched him on his sleeve. “Mr. Harwood, may I speak to you?”
There was a look of surprise in his eyes, followed by an instant attentiveness. “Yes, of course.”
It was hard to push past her breathlessness, but the matter was so important she would not permit her shyness to steal her words. “I have not seen you since the day we met at St. James’s Palace, and I have wished these two weeks past to thank you for your willingness to render me a service—and to offer my apologies that I was not there to receive it.”
His expression eased. “I saw that you had found a gentleman willing to lend his carriage, for I returned with one just as you were leaving. Please do not think anything more of it. I was glad that you were able to receive assistance so quickly.”
She nodded, knowing she should respond to this but was unsure of what to say. It was still distressing to think that he had gone to all that trouble only for it to come to nothing.
“I could see how affected you were by your sister’s indisposition,” he said after a brief pause.
She looked up and was once again touched by those eyes that seemed to see right into her. There was kindness there, and time. As though he had hours to spare for her and would wait until she was able to form words that did not come readily.
“I was. It is unlike her to faint. And Dorothea is with child, so I was worried.”
His brows furrowed in concern. “May I ask how she is now?”
“She is well.” Sophia managed to smile at him in her pleasure of maintaining a proper conversation with a man she esteemed and her relief at remembering the happy outcome. “The baby seems to be unharmed, and apart from resting, she is going along as well as usual.”
“I am happy to hear it.” Mr. Harwood’s eyes remained on her, and it caused a warm fluttering somewhere between her belly and her heart. She could almost fool herself into believing he was interested in her, and his next words strengthened the impulse. “My lady, please do not ever hesitate to request anything of me that you might need. I will happily carry it out.” This coaxed a greater smile from her, for it seemed he meant it. He was such a kind, obliging gentleman.
But then, she reminded herself severely, it was likely just that. He was kind and obliging—to all. She had certainly not displayed any remarkable quality that would attract his interest, and she must not deceive herself by thinking he felt anything toward her but charitable disinterest.
Mr. Edwards had finished his conversation, and Marie moved forward, holding out her hand to Mr. Harwood. “I shall hope to see more of you, sir.”
An easy smile lit his face as he bowed over her hand. “And I you, Miss Mowbray. Delighted to have made your acquaintance at last.”
Sophia’s coach was announced, and her footman and maid waited for her outdoors as she bid farewell to her hosts and the other guests and stepped outdoors. The evening had held many pleasures, and she should have been satisfied, but her spirits had plunged once again. She had carried on a natural conversation with Mr. Harwood that went beyond commonplaces, which was a signal victory for her. But she had also witnessed how enchanting Marie was in his company, and how easily they conversed throughout the evening. How could he not find her friend all that was perfect?
Chapter 6
In their first few weeks in London, Sophia managed to avoid several of the season’s more popular balls, simply because Dorothea was not there to scold her into attending, and her mother was not passionate enough about going to bestir herself. It had been an easy thing for Sophia to appease her mother’s expectations and her own conscience by attending some of the smaller dinners and routs—ones where she was confident she might largely go unnoticed.
Dorothea, however, had begun to chafe under the necessity of remaining housebound and launched a small revolt against her husband by vowing that if he didn’t allow her the pleasure of attending even one ball, she would be tempted to take one of their more spirited mares out for an extended ride. This was pure provocation, but even Miles knew his wife well enough to realize he could not force her to rest against her will. Besides, she was asking for nothing more than an evening’s entertainment where she would not be required to exert herself more than what was needed for conversation.
Therefore, Sophia found herself preparing for her first large ball of the season, sitting before the dressing table while Margery set her curls with decorative sprigs of dark purple flowers sewn to small hair combs. She had chosen a pale lilac satin for her gown with beaded glass trim around the cap sleeves and bodice, and a dark purple ribbon sewn to the empire waistline. Her mother had fortified herself for an evening out by resting the entire day, and by the time she joined Sophia in the drawing room—over an hour after they were supposed to have left—it almost seemed she was looking forward to it.
Having arrived late, she and her mother were admitted into Lord and Lady Berkley’s house to find the hall empty of people. Fortunately, the hosts were still greeting the last of the arrivals, so Lady Poole and Sophia had not missed the opportunity to pay their respects before the Berkleys left their post. The warmth that emanated from the ballroom was welcoming after the chill of the outdoors, but the ballroom was already dreadfully crowded, and Sophia had to fight the urge to turn around and run back to the carriage.
One advantage of this evening’s entertainment was that Marie would be in attendance. A fortnight had passed since the dinner at the admiral’s house, and they had met several times in their homes since. That was how she had learned that Marie had again met Mr. Harwood at an intimate supper gathering. Although Sophia had ventured to ask who else was in attendance, she could not discern whether Marie had a particular interest in him. It was a wretched feeling not to know, but she must simply resign herself to allowing fate to follow its course. If the season concluded with Mr. Harwood and Marie making a match, why then, they were meant to end up together. Nothing Sophia could do would reverse the outcome.
At least, she tried to tell herself that.
