Page 25 of A Secret Infatuation
She chuckled. “He and my mother are dining with old friends, and it was planned before he knew of tonight’s performance.” After a pause, she looked over her glass. “I heard you met Lady Sophia and Miss Edwards at the naval asylum.”
“Yes, quite by chance.” Another memory washed over him of Lady Sophia facing him under the oak tree—a different expression on her face, something other than shyness. He lifted the champagne to his lips. “We went to Hyde Park afterward, but it was an unfortunate decision, for we were caught in the rain.”
“Yes, so I have heard. Sophia said you have offered to assist her in soliciting subscriptions for the asylum. If I know her, she will make every effort to be successful at finding donors, even if it is difficult for her to approach strangers.”
Lady Sophia had confided much to her friend. About their chance meeting, the walk in the park, the rain—she had even told her about his offer to help. Was it because women talked to each other about everything? Or did she talk about him because her mind dwelled on him?
“I did indeed. I do not know how much assistance I will be, but I will do my best to find members of Parliament with generous-minded wives. Kind ones,” he added.
“Oh yes, you appear to understand that about Lady Sophia. She will flee from anyone who will not receive her with kindness.” The words were warmly spoken and showed true affection, but Miss Mowbray’s eyes were on him. From the intensity of her focus, he suspected her interest went beyond mere friendship. He had no wish to lead her to believe something of that nature lay in his own heart, but how did one pass on such information without being unkind?
This produced in him a desire to escape, and he spoke without thought. “Shall we return to our seats?”
“But, Mr. Harwood…we have not finished our champagne.” She looked at him, perplexed.
He considered the glass of champagne in his hand, noting that he had scarcely touched it. “Oh, how right you are.” He smiled feebly and took a large swallow. Although her smile remained fixed, something in her eyes faltered. A small group was descending on them, and they both turned.
“Good evening, Marie. Good evening, Mr. Harwood.” Lady Dorothea had approached with her husband, and they were flanked by Lady Camilla and Lord Pembroke, who Felix remembered had offered to escort her to the opera. Lady Camilla’s cheeks were flushed and her lips stretched in a smile, showing how much she was enjoying the evening.
They exchanged greetings, and Lady Dorothea asked, “Where is Sophia? Is she not with you?”
“She stayed behind in the box,” Miss Mowbray answered. “I think the masses assembled in the corridor was probably more than she wished to face this evening.”
“Very likely.”
Lady Camilla turned to Miss Mowbray, her brows now furrowed. “She stayed behind in the box with Mr. Cunningworth?”
There was something about the way she said it. Perhaps she knew how little her sister liked being in Robert’s company. It made Felix even more eager to return to the box. He had learned his lesson, however, and would not appear rushed. “Are you walking back to your box? Shall we go together?”
“We are,” Lady Dorothea replied, taking Mr. Shaw’s arm.
Felix checked that Miss Mowbray’s glass was empty. In an excess of caution, he asked, “Finished?”
She smiled and handed him the glass, and he returned both to a servant. They returned to their seats, bidding farewell to the others, for Lord Pembroke’s box was situated above the stage. The last few steps were difficult to maintain at the same calm rhythm, but Felix forced himself to do so. When they entered the box, Robert was leaning into Sophia as she shrank back.
He took a hasty step forward, and Miss Mowbray said in a clear voice, “You were very right not to have gone, Sophia. You would have disliked the crowds.”
Robert pulled away and turned as Felix stepped around his chair and met his expression with a shuttered one of his own. Watching Robert bully a woman like Lady Sophia made him incensed. It was infuriating not to be in a position to shield her from it. He waited until Miss Mowbray was seated before sinking into his chair.
“It was a crush out there? I daresay it was.” Robert looked behind him at the door to their box. “Perhaps there’s enough time for me to have a glass of champagne—that is, Lady Sophia, if you do not mind?”
“Not at all.” It was difficult to make out, but Felix had been listening for her reply and caught it. That was all it took for Robert to get to his feet and head to the opening of the box, just as his father and Mrs. Heathrow entered it.
“You had best stay put, son. All of Society is returning to their seats.” Lord Chawleigh spoke in an imposing manner that would have been difficult to disobey. Robert hesitated for a moment, then returned to his seat.
The activity on the stage increased as actors took their place for an intermezzi ballet and the chandeliers were lowered again. Felix wished he could ask Lady Sophia what she was feeling, wished he could reach over and lay a comforting hand on her arm. But wishes were just that. He hoped he wouldn’t have a life made up only of wishes.
Chapter 12
Three days after the opera, the infection in Lady Poole’s throat had descended into the lungs, and Sophia was just bidding farewell to the doctor who had come to examine her. As she settled into the drawing room, Turton brought her the morning post that included an invitation to Mrs. Taylor’s alfresco picnic that Mr. Grantly had promised during his morning call. Marie arrived shortly afterward to inquire after her mother’s health, and Sophia was able to relay the pleasing news that the doctor did not think her in any real danger. After exhausting the subject of treatments and necessary time for convalescence, their conversation turned to the picnic. Marie pulled out her own invitation and was able to confide that Mr. Harwood would be in attendance. She knew this because he had come to collect from her father a list of widows from various coastal towns whose husbands had died at sea. He was to go and gather petitions from them and present these in Parliament.
Having her best friend with her in London produced contrasting sentiments in Sophia’s heart. On one hand, it was all she had wished for when she imagined spending her season with Marie. They were together almost daily and enjoyed the same pastimes. Since Marie had no siblings, she came to Grosvenor Square often and was fond of her whole family. Their conversation was comfortable, and Sophia never felt pressure to be someone other than who she was. Such were the blessings.
These pleasures were mitigated by the fact that every time Marie mentioned Mr. Harwood, Sophia was reminded of how well-suited her friend was to him. Marie’s father esteemed him enough to serve as his patron, and it was only natural that the admiral would welcome him as a son-in-law. As for Sophia, she had only fleeting moments to latch on to that suggested he was interested in more than friendship. Mr. Harwood was known to be congenial and friendly to all, which meant that she must weigh every interaction cautiously.
It was only at certain times that she suspected some deeper affection existed between them. It was those fleeting glances or the lingering regard when he thought she was not looking, the occasional touch. The way he seemed to gravitate toward her. But she could not even rejoice when she observed these promising signs, let alone dream of building anything in the way of a courtship with him. That would mean being disloyal to her best friend, and she could not hurt her that way. From a purely objective standpoint, Marie would be a better fit for Mr. Harwood. She would certainly be capable of hosting his political dinners. Yet Sophia was prisoner to the affection she had for Mr. Harwood; it was not something she could put aside like last night’s gown.
The day of the picnic dawned bright, and the earl’s carriage brought Sophia, Camilla, and Marie to the rendezvous spot at the base of Primrose Hill. They stepped out of it into a festive atmosphere where other carriages were depositing guests, none of whom she knew. They all appeared to be older. Scores of servants carried rugs and baskets up the hill while others returned to fetch more items. From the evidence before her, it would be a feast.
