Page 3 of A Secret Infatuation
But then she laughed at herself for entertaining such a ridiculous notion. Mr. Harwood was not a feeble creature like her; he was not shy. And even a ninny would know that without a proper introduction, he could hardly approach her—even less begin a correspondence when they were near strangers. Besides, who was to say he had ever viewed her in any way but a poor, diffident creature?
Mere facts did nothing to dampen her thoughts in his direction, however, and hope persisted.
Desperate for more to fill her memento book dedicated to Mr. Harwood, she had at last attempted to draw a portrait from memory, but it was badly done, and she took a knife to the page and removed it. The three pages were all she had, but it was sufficient; she was now wise enough to know that nothing would come of this tendre she had developed from a chance encounter four years ago. Still, it soothed her to look over the pages whenever she had a social event she did not look forward to attending.
“Sophia!” Her sister was coming down the corridor toward her bedroom.
She hurried to put her book in the drawer and managed to close it before Camilla opened the door and strode in. Heart beating fast, Sophia tucked the key under a stack of papers in what she hoped was a discreet gesture.
“Are you ready to go? I’ve just learned it is not to be only our family and Lord Chawleigh’s this evening, so we do have hope of a pleasant dinner.” Camilla gave her a droll look, and Sophia smiled. Having noticed Robert’s budding interest two years ago, Camilla had won her heart by declaring that he was the very last man whom Sophia should marry. “For he would crush you,” she had said. It was comforting to have an ally in her sister.
“Who else is to be there?” Sophia intertwined her fingers, steeling herself for a larger crowd than she had prepared for. No social situation was easy, but at least when it was just Lord Chawleigh and his son, she had learned that by merely offering a few banal remarks, she could pass practically unnoticed.
“Mr. Perkins, whom we know, and a Mr. Harwood, whom we don’t.” Camilla went over to Sophia’s wardrobe and examined the gowns that hung there. “I wish I could wear this gold-colored one. It would suit me nicely, if only it fit.”
Sophia’s mind had remained stuck on the name. Mr. Harwood. After so many years of thinking of him but never breathing the name aloud, she was suddenly adrift. Her next comment flew out unguarded. “But we do know him.”
Camilla turned, her eyebrows lifted in inquiry, and Sophia was forced to go on. “I…I think we met him once at Chawleigh Manor some years ago. You played lawn bowls with him.”
“Ah, true. I had forgotten him,” Camilla replied, fingering another gown with coquelicot trim.
Really! Sophia was astonished that anyone could forget Mr. Harwood. He was the gentlemanly ideal in every way. And now she would see him again for the first time in four years. Would he remember her? Surely, he must! If only he would not recall her as a spiritless creature. She would have to make an effort to be as lively as was in her power. She licked her dry lips and reached up to pinch her cheeks before stopping herself. Her sister must not know that she was anticipating this meeting.
“I will tell Mama that you are ready.” Camilla swept past Sophia on her way to the door.
“No!” Sophia stood suddenly, and her sister turned back in surprise. “It…it’s only that I have worn this gown so recently. I am of a mind to change. Perhaps the one with the leaf embroidery?” The gown she had thought good enough for Robert Cunningworth was not nearly elegant enough for Mr. Harwood. She attempted a smile, hoping her sister would not think her behavior overly strange.
Camilla considered this, then went over to the wardrobe to pull it out. “Yes, it becomes you very well. You should wear it more often.” She shook out the dress. “Here, I will help you into it.”
“Thank you.” Sophia shivered as Camilla unbuttoned her plain silk gown, and she hoped her sister would think it was from the cold. The evening had gone from dull to significant all at once. She stepped into the emerald gown with the embroidered leaves on the net overskirt, attempting to suppress her emotions. She had thought herself over this childish infatuation with Mr. Harwood, but her racing pulse told her otherwise. Was she fanciful for holding on to the idea of him for four years? A man she had met only once and with whom she had not even exchanged a word?
The answer was yes. Fanciful and foolish. And yet, she was helpless to feel anything differently. After all, he was the only one who had ever defended her without knowing her or requiring she give a response. He was the only gentleman who appeared to see her. The effect of that smile and wink had not faded, no matter how many years had marched by. Of all the gentlemen she had met since, he still stood out as singular and ideal. At least tonight, Mr. Harwood would see her at her best. She had grown more loquacious than she was at fifteen and now dressed stylishly. He would find before him a woman grown.
“Your cheeks are pink. It’s becoming,” Camilla noted as she stepped around Sophia to observe the effect of the new gown. “Here, let me slip this diamond leaf comb into your hair.”
When this was done, Sophia reached out impulsively and hugged her sister. Camilla looked at her in surprise. “Thank you for buttoning my gown. I daresay the servants are busy.”
“Mama is certainly keeping Margery busy with Joanna’s hair. It seems a comb has not gone through it in ages.” And in an odd reversal of roles, she added, “Don’t dally. I shall wait for you downstairs.”
Sophia nodded and went over to sit at her dressing table. She stared into the mirror and turned her face first to the left to see her unsmiling mouth from that angle, then to the right. She tried to smile as she hoped to do for Mr. Harwood but could only swallow convulsively. Pulling on her gloves, she leaned her forehead onto her fingertips.
Let me be interesting tonight.
The baron’s London house was located at 20 Grosvenor Square on the opposite end from the Earl of Poole’s, and Sophia and her family went there on foot. Only Tilly was left at home with the governess. Evo was away at school, and Dorothea and her husband had been invited but were unable to attend. As soon as they knocked on the front entrance, a footman ushered them into the brightly lit interior. After taking their cloaks, the butler led them to the drawing room.
Lord Chawleigh came out to greet them, stopping first in front of Lady Poole. “Welcome to our home, my lady. Welcome, Ladies Sophia, Camilla, and Joanna. It is good to see our dear neighbors once again, although we have both suffered a life-altering loss in the interim.”
“It is sadly true.” Lady Poole left her hand in his, adding, “It must be particularly hard for you, my lord, since it has been only one year.”
Sophia’s mother had improved since her initial wave of grief had passed—and after gaining a son-in-law upon whom she might rely. Lord Chawleigh inquired after her health, then took her elbow and led her into the drawing room as Robert bowed before Sophia. His features had filled out, and his expression was almost considerate.
“Good evening, Lady Sophia.” He greeted both of her sisters as well, offering his arm to her and Joanna, who was closest. “I apologize, Lady Camilla, that I do not have a third arm to offer you.”
“You would look very strange if you did,” Camilla replied. “Please do not trouble yourself. I am perfectly capable of walking without tripping over my feet.”
This elicited a smile, and Sophia began to hope that the years had indeed improved him. So far, he had not yet overwhelmed her with excessive attention, and he had found humor in her sister’s playful retort.
Once they entered the drawing room, all other thought fled Sophia’s mind. Two gentlemen stood near the mantelpiece, and her eyes traveled from Mr. Perkins to Mr. Harwood. When the latter gentleman turned and met her gaze, she managed to keep her own steady. She would show him that she was not the same tongue-tied maiden she had been at the age of fifteen. At least, that was her intention, but her courage lasted all of two seconds before she averted her eyes.
