Page 17 of A Secret Infatuation
“I…”
All eyes were on her. That Robert had chosen to ask her publicly was cruel, for she could hardly refuse him now. She would desperately have given any excuse not to go, but none came to her. Not a single word made its way to her lips, and she sent an involuntary glance to Mr. Harwood, who frowned. He must surely think her stupid for being unable to answer a simple question.
Mr. Harwood turned to Robert. “If you think your father might be amenable to the idea, perhaps I might escort Miss Mowbray and join you in your box. We can make a party of it.”
Sophia had been right that he had not come calling to see her. He was interested in Marie, this much was now evident. Naturally he was, for they were so well-suited.
Marie returned a broad smile, eyes sparkling with pleasure. If Sophia knew her friend, she was not only praising her good fortune in having secured an invitation to the opera, she was calculating how she might also attend the picnic that Mr. Harwood had promised to Tilly. There was nothing wrong with such calculations, but Sophia would have liked to go with Mr. Harwood herself. It was difficult to talk to him when others were present who were more gifted at conversation.
“An excellent idea.” Robert sent Mr. Harwood an approving nod. “My father will be in favor of the plan, I am sure of it.”
After a slight pause, Mr. Harwood pivoted to face Mr. Grantly. “If you wish to join us, you might bring Lady Camilla.” Robert’s friend pulled back, his expression revealing his distaste for the idea, and an awkward silence followed. Sophia was mortified on her sister’s behalf, but a rescue came from an unlikely quarter.
“You need not trouble yourself, Mr. Grantly,” Lord Pembroke said pleasantly as all eyes turned to him. “Lady Camilla, if you are pleased to accept my company, I will take you. And I will invite your sister and Miles to make up the party.”
By now, Mr. Grantly seemed to have recognized that he had acted in bad ton, for he said, “Well, it was only that I had not yet made up my mind to go…”
Camilla did not allow him to finish. “I accept. Thank you for the invitation, Lord Pembroke.”
She smiled at Lord Pembroke, and looked charmingly as she did so. Camilla had always been given to plumpness but had lost some of it in the past year. Not only that, Sophia reflected with satisfaction, her younger sister was faring better than many more experienced ladies in their first season, for she had secured an invitation to attend the opera with a young and handsome earl despite not yet being out.
“Well, we must take our leave. We would not wish to outstay our welcome.” Mr. Cunningworth laughed as he got to his feet, and his friends followed suit. His departure brought Sophia relief, even though it meant his friends would leave with him. However, her thankfulness at being free of him for the afternoon plunged at the reminder in his next words.
“But I shall own myself satisfied, for I have achieved the purpose of my visit.” He bowed to her. “I have the pleasure of escorting you to the opera next week, Lady Sophia.”
Sophia managed a wan smile, which fell as Mr. Harwood bowed before Marie. “Miss Mowbray, I will confirm the arrangements for the opera if that is agreeable to you.”
“It is. Thank you for the invitation.”
He took leave of all the ladies present, including Tilly, and stood before Sophia last. He bowed and smiled at her as he stood upright.
“Good day.” She curtsied but was unable to respond, or even smile.
The three gentlemen took their leave, and Marie exhaled quietly. No one noticed but Sophia. However, she could not ask Marie for her thoughts or discuss anything that had transpired during the visit, for there were others in the drawing room—notably Lord Pembroke, who was not connected to their family.
Instead, Sophia gave voice to her question. “Camilla, if it was not your idea to ask Dorry and Miles to come this morning, whose was it?”
“Mine,” Tilly said, surprising everyone. Sophia turned to her, puzzled, and she went on. “After all, it seemed pointless to sit around each day, waiting for callers to come. I knew you would stay at home until we finally had visitors, so I wrote to invite Dorry and Miles. How was I to know we would actually have real callers today?” This artless comment was met with stunned silence, broken by laughter.
“I have never been so set down in all of my life,” Lord Pembroke said with a tragic air. “It matters not that I am an earl, for today I have learned that I am not a real caller.”
Chapter 8
The following day, Felix received a letter from his father, who had written to tell him of an unexpected bequeathment that would provide his sisters with a respectable dowry and suggested he return home for a visit. He set off immediately with the noble intention of planning a parliamentary speech on pensions as he rode. Instead, his thoughts continued to circle back to Lady Sophia.
Visiting her in her own drawing room was like being offered a plate of sweetmeats just when he was in the mood for them. She had looked lovely in a soft yellow gown and, despite her shyness, was fully mistress of her surroundings. The only fly in the honey was Robert’s persistent attempts to court her. He chose the empty seat closest to her, his gestures expansive and often invading the space in which she sat. He did not think Lady Sophia liked Robert. Her acceptance to attend the opera was not a ready one, and he was compelled to rush in with an invitation for Miss Mowbray because he couldn’t bear the thought that Lady Sophia must bear Robert’s attention all evening with no one to shield her. Fortunately—since it had been impulsively given—Robert had embraced the idea. And Miss Mowbray, always agreeable, was perfectly ready to assist him in coming to her friend’s rescue.
There was something vulnerable and soft to Lady Sophia that appealed to a protective instinct, and he could not stop puzzling out what she might be thinking. He tried to read her thoughts and even anticipate her wishes, but seemed to fall far from his objective. The only thing he understood with any certainty was that she did not like to be the center of attention—that, and that she required time before giving her answer.
As to why Robert was pursuing her, it was perfectly clear that it came down to three things: she was above him in station and would add to his prominence; she was beautiful and wealthy, which was the only wife he would consider; he had known her the longest and had some sort of proprietary ideas about her. He probably convinced himself that he loved her, but it was clear that he loved her attributes and not her.
Robert may well have changed since that day Felix had had to rescue Lady Sophia from his awkward, grueling attention. After all, one could not lose a beloved mother in the intervening years and not change at least a little, becoming more staid and cognizant of what one had. But Robert’s personality was bullish, and it would never be otherwise; he would not allow her the space to bloom. In short, he was utterly wrong for her. What Lady Sophia needed was a man who could be patient when it took her time to speak, a man who valued her for who she was and not for how she might elevate his position, a man who wanted nothing more than to coax the hidden gems from her thoughts.
A man like…him.
Having reached this self-indulgent conclusion, Felix was thoroughly disgusted with himself. He was determined not to reach above his station no matter how much he was drawn to Lady Sophia, and the short remainder of his journey was spent in chastisement to this end. He reached home and brought his gelding to the stable, where he handed him over to Ashly, their gardener-groom. Margaret, the eldest of his four sisters at age sixteen, crossed the stable entrance and stopped short at the sight of him.
“Felix! I did not know you were coming home.”
