Page 16 of A Secret Infatuation
“Yes.” Marie looked embarrassed and, perhaps for the first time since Sophia had known her, did not have a ready rejoinder.
“Well, I hope you were not sitting here for the past three days waiting for us to come.” Robert laughed heartily, causing Marie to shoot a miserable glance at Sophia, who was too irritated by Robert’s comment to return a sympathetic one. For what he had said was nothing short of the truth. She had wasted three days, but it was not for him. It was for Mr. Harwood, and then only to watch his courtship with Marie.
She looked at him, and his gaze quickly skittered away as though he had been looking at her, too. Was…was it possible he had come for her?
The footman and maid had been well-trained by Dorothea and entered the drawing room carrying the tea things before the guests had been made to wait for too long. The ritual of preparing tea gave Sophia something to do and allowed her to gain some mastery over her nerves. She gave instructions for where to put the trays and went over to the cabinet on the side of the room where the tea was kept. Marie, too, had seemed to regain her equilibrium, for she kept the guests amused by dissecting the upcoming social events and giving her opinions on which ones were worth attending.
Sophia had been following the conversation with hopes that Mr. Harwood might publicly commit to attending one of the events to which she might also be invited. Although he did not offer any clues to his plans, he did turn to Tilly on his right, and asked what she best liked to do in London.
She looked surprised at his having addressed her, but responded decisively. “I like to do what everyone else likes. Of course, I cannot go to balls yet, but I like to do everything else. I just don’t like staying home.”
“I understand you perfectly,” he replied, his expression sympathetic. Sophia was touched that he had singled out her youngest sister, who was often neglected when visitors came.
“You ought to try a picnic, if one can be organized for you,” Mr. Grantly said, then turned to the rest of the company. “As a matter of fact, I have come with just such an intention. With the coming of warmer weather, my aunt, Mrs. Taylor, wishes to organize a picnic on Primrose Hill and has been pestering me to add some young people to her guest list.”
At his unusual manner of giving his invitation, Camilla shot Sophia a look full of humor.
“Doesn’t Primrose Hill have a reputation for base conduct?” Marie asked, her eyebrows knit. “Dueling and such?”
“Not in broad daylight,” Mr. Grantly assured her. “And you need have no fears that there will be anything unsavory involved—not where my aunt is concerned. As I am her only nephew, you may be assured that I will procure invitations for all of you as soon as she sets the date.”
“Even one for me?” Tilly asked, causing Mr. Grantly to grow self-conscious. Joanna sent Tilly a subtle shake of her head with an added glare that told her not to speak out of turn.
When Mr. Grantly did not respond, Robert attempted to pacify Tilly with a studied look of sympathy. “Such gatherings will not usually include children, you must understand. Mrs. Taylor has never had any children of her own and therefore does not know what to do with them.”
Tilly looked dismayed at the combined reproof from Joanna, their neighbor from Surrey, and the rejection. Sophia’s heart went out to her, but she did not know how to ease the situation. She had often reflected that it was not easy to be in her position. Tilly was the youngest of the family, and the closest one to her in age—Joanna—was only interested in spending her time in the stables or on horseback.
“Lady Matilda.” Mr. Harwood waited until he had her attention. “If Mrs. Taylor has set a limitation on the number of guests she wishes to have at her picnic, I propose that we plan another picnic together next to the Thames.” He glanced at Sophia. “That is, if your mother will approve of the idea and can provide a chaperone.”
“It might be difficult,” Robert said, frowning. “Lady Poole is often unwell.”
“Lady Matilda has sisters old enough to serve as chaperones,” Mr. Harwood replied, undaunted.
Sophia looked at Mr. Harwood in surprise. Why was he doing this? Was it to show Marie what sort of a man he was? Or was it purely to give encouragement to her sister? Or was it for some other reason? And why had Robert attempted to put a spoke in the wheel, when he did not have to go?
Tilly glanced shyly at Mr. Harwood, but as tears sparkled on her lashes, she looked away again. Sophia quietly willed her to answer but suspected she was unable to. After a moment of wrestling with her difficulty in speaking out, she did it for her.
“That is a gracious invitation, Mr. Harwood. I am sure my mother will approve of the plan, and I’m sure Tilly would love to go.” She smiled at her sister in encouragement, then turned back to Mr. Harwood. There was warmth in his expression, and suddenly she was sure he had done it for her sister and not for Marie.
She broke the connection and looked into the teapot to distract herself. Another knock came as Sophia began to pour, and she exchanged a look of surprise with Marie. They had not been expecting any other visitors, and the ones they had been waiting for for three days were currently in the drawing room. Turton entered a second time to announce the newest arrivals.
“Lady Dorothea Shaw, Mr. Miles Shaw, and Lord Pembroke.”
Movement to Sophia’s right caused her to turn toward Camilla, who sat upright. Setting down the teapot, Sophia caught her attention and lifted a brow in question that asked ‘was this your idea?’ Camilla’s eyes widened and she gave a small shake of her head.
“Good day,” Dorothea said, sailing into the room, her husband and Lord Pembroke behind her. “I see you are rather full of guests this morning. We shall not stay long, then. I wished to pay a call on Lady Berkley, as well.”
“Lady Dorothea, I wish you would take my seat,” Mr. Harwood said.
Sophia could not resist sending him a look of approval, having noticed that neither Mr. Cunningworth nor Mr. Grantly had thought to do the same when there were clearly not enough chairs in the circle. Mr. Harwood and Miles went over to bring three caned chairs from the sides of the room.
“It has been some time since I’ve come to visit,” Lord Pembroke announced cheerfully, looking around the drawing room. He had a few times last season when he was still Viscount Throckmorton. Everyone had called him “Rock” then by way of abbreviation, but now the only one who continued to do so was his cousin, Miles. “It appears nothing has changed.”
“Few things do that are visible,” Camilla observed.
Lord Pembroke glanced at her curiously, but Camilla looked straight ahead, as though the comment had not been for him. Sophia blinked at her sister in surprise. What did she mean by that? Before anyone had time to ponder too long on this cryptic remark, Robert changed the subject entirely.
“Lady Sophia, I have not yet seen you attend the opera this season. You simply must go, for you are missing out on hearing Angelica Catalani. I have seats in my father’s box when she performs next week. Why not attend with me? Our box is large enough to hold six guests.”
