Page 47 of A Secret Infatuation
Marie accepted her excuse with a nod and sat back, apparently surrendering to the fact that she would not change her mind. That was one thing Sophia loved Marie for. She never pushed her to do something she did not wish to do.
“I shall leave you, then. My parents will be waiting for me at the rotunda, and there are some I would like to see unmasked, for I could not make them out at all.” She reached over and gave Sophia’s hand a squeeze. “I shall visit you tomorrow so we can discuss everything. Wasn’t this famous? I now understand why my parents attend masquerades whenever possible. I shall very likely end up just like them.”
Sophia smiled and watched her go. Voices came from every direction outside of their box, and she was content to sit alone with her thoughts, for they were mostly pleasurable, even when the doubts crept in. From the rotunda, she could vaguely hear the prompt to remove the masks, and the laughter and exclamations as everyone participated in the game. Shortly afterward, streams of people crossed in front of their box to return to other parts of the gardens, and Miles and Lord Pembroke returned with Evo, Joanna, and Tilly.
“The Prince Regent was there,” her brother announced.
“Was he?” Dorothea asked with interest. “In character?”
“Apollo,” their brother vouchsafed. “He had a laurel and a golden lyre.”
Miles came and placed a hand on Dorothea’s shoulder as he addressed Lady Poole. “My lady, I hope you will not mind if we retire early. I am concerned for Dorothea and wish to see that she does not overtire herself.”
Lady Poole shook her head and stood. “That suits me perfectly.”
Lord Pembroke had found friends and decided to stay on, and he bid them good night. They filed out of the box and made their way toward the gate leading to the river. It was still early enough that only a few partygoers waited there, so it was a simple matter to find two sculls to take them across to Whitehall to their carriage, and from there—home.
Marie came the next afternoon as promised. Sophia, equal parts tortured and hopeful, had been waiting for her. She stood as soon as Marie entered the drawing room.
“I was thinking we might go out to the garden on the square. We seldom go there, but the sun has a pretty light today, and there are benches where we might sit.”
Marie agreed to the plan, and Sophia slipped the key to Grosvenor Square’s private garden into her reticule. They crossed the carriage road when traffic allowed it and went to the closest gate. Inside, they found a stone bench in a quiet corner.
“I should have asked if you wished for anything before we left the house, but I was so anxious to be outdoors. You don’t mind?”
“No.” Marie slipped her arm through Sophia’s as soon as they were settled on the bench in the shade of a tree. “I came to see you and to find out how you enjoyed last evening.”
Sophia’s hair was still slightly stiff from the powder, although her maid had removed most of it when she brushed out the curls the night before. The rest would come out that evening when she had a bath. She did not know where to begin and chose the safest remark.
“Camilla and I were thankful to have such pretty habits to wear. We will have them washed and returned to you.” She smiled at Marie. “Your parents must have all of their characters carefully organized in readiness for masquerades, particularly if they are able to lend them to other guests as they did with us.”
“Yes, they do keep them fairly well sorted. And yours weren’t the only ones that were lent.” Marie’s face wore a peculiar expression. “We also lent a habit to Mr. Harwood and another to Mr. Edwards. My father wanted me to wear Diana’s, and I suspect it was because Mr. Harwood had been given the one of Endymion.” She let that sink in before adding, “But as you recall, I encouraged you to be Diana.”
Her regard had enough significance that Sophia was prompted to ask faintly, “Why should you do that?”
Marie lifted a brow curiously, pausing before she spoke. “Should I not have? Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
Sophia knew what she meant and grew warm from embarrassment. It was fortunate they were outdoors and would not be disturbed by other members of her family, for it was time to tell Marie the truth. Or, she would have, if her courage had not fled before she could begin. “I…do not know what you mean.”
Marie sighed. “I know you don’t disclose your heart readily, and I do not wish to force a confidence you’re not ready to give. But from what I could observe, you spent a long time talking and dancing with Mr. Harwood last night and”—she lifted her hands with a shrug—“well, I don’t know what else to say about that.”
Little tremors went through Sophia at the thought of speaking aloud a subject upon which she had kept still for so long, but Marie had given her an opening. She must take it.
“We did dance, but we spoke in riddles, and I am not entirely sure he knew who I was.”
Marie laughed and shook Sophia’s arm in affectionate exasperation. “Certainly he knew who you were, for I pointed you out to him when you crossed in front of our booth.”
Sophia looked at her in shock. “He knew?”
“I made sure he did because I had my own suspicions.”
Sophia went quiet, absorbing this revelation, and Marie continued. “I don’t know what he said to you, but Mr. Harwood does not seem like the type of man to seek out the company of a woman he has no interest in.” She glanced at Sophia. “And you? Do you have interest in him?”
Sophia drew in a shaky breath. “Did you not have a liking for him? You had expressed as much.”
Marie faced forward, studying the neat garden, whose parcels of land where grass and trees grew were dissected by gravel paths.
“I did like him. But when we were at Primrose Hill, I was given the distinct impression that his heart was engaged elsewhere. I received no encouragements in my attempts to interest him in conversation. It stung,” she admitted, “but I am not one to set my cap after a lost cause.”
