Page 57 of Solving Sophronia

When Mimi saw Sophie and Detective Graham approach, she waved for them to join her and her friends. “Oh, Count Brankovic, there you are.” She allowed the detective to kiss her fingers. When she turned to Sophie, her eyes narrowed in concern. “My dear, you look quite flushed.”

“My lady need to eat.” The detective spoke in his stilted English for the benefit of the other women sitting with Mimi.

“Yes, of course.” Lady Chatsworth vacated the seat beside Mimi, motioned for Sophie to sit, and waved for a server to bring tea.

“Thank you,” Sophie said, wishing she could curl up on a sofa with her head in her grandmother’s lap. She vaguely heard Mimi introducing the detective to her friends before he took his leave, but her thoughts were scattered.

She took a sip of the tea and gave a grateful smile when Mimi set a tray of teacakes and wafers in front of her.

“Now, Sophronia, tell me what is the matter,” Mimi said once Sophie had eaten a few wafers. “Perhaps the excitement of the past week has been too much for you.”

“I don’t know,” Sophie said. “Everything was fine until Det—” She glanced at her grandmother’s friends. “Until the count took my hand for the waltz. When we danced, I felt happy and sad and hot and dizzy... My thoughts were all in disarray.” She shook her head as if she could jostle the wayward thoughts back into place.

“Ah, I see,” Mimi said. She raised a brow, and her lips twitched as she glanced across the room in the direction Detective Graham had gone.

The other ladies smiled as well.

Sophie’s stomach tightened in apprehension of what the knowing smiles meant. “Perhaps it was a spell of hysteria,” she offered, but the explanation sounded weak, even to her. Could they be insinuating... ? No. Sophie refused to believe it.

“Well, dearest,” Mimi said in a gentle voice. “You are certainly not the first woman to find herself enchanted by a handsome man or to blush in his arms on the dance floor.”

“No.” Sophie gave a disgusted snort. “I don’t... I am not the type...” What was wrong with her? Was a waltz with a man who called her by her Christian name all it took to turn her into a lovesick girl?

The thought brought her up short. Love? This couldn’t be that. She couldn’t bein lovewith Detective Graham. He was brusque, sometimes to the point of rudeness, and he knew nothing of literature and art. He always wore the same ugly brown hat and ate far too many peppermints.

“He is all wrong,” Sophie protested.

“Aren’t they always?” Mrs. Griffin said, shaking her head.

“We would never suit,” Sophie continued. “It must be something else. My corset may be too tight.”

The ladies glanced at one another, their smiles making Sophie want to argue all the more. They didn’t know. None of them could explain this away so simply. Besides, she wasn’t like all the silly women who came to balls expecting to be swept off their feet by a handsome suitor. She didn’t believe in romance.

“Dearest, your grandfather and I could not have been less suited for one another. He was classically conservative, traditional, and stuffy—from an old, established family.” Mimi gave a wry smile, rolling her eyes. “While I...” She waved her hand as if no explanation were necessary. “We met at a suffragette protest—well,metis a strong word for yelling at one another on the green at St. James’s Park about the inequality of women.”

“Oh, I remember it fondly,” Lady Chatsworth said. “You in your white dress and laurel wreath and he, late for his parliament session, in his wig and robes.” She snickered. “You raved about that ‘horrid man’ for months.”

Sophie smiled, imagining the pair in their youth.

“Until the two of you were invited to the same house party in Southampton,” Mrs. Griffin chimed in. “All of us endured three long weeks of glares across the dining table and uncomfortable arguments in the parlor until”—she widened her eyes dramatically—“that fateful afternoon.”

“When the pair of you were caught in the rain and forced to take shelter in the duke’s gazebo.” Lady Chatsworth touched her finger to her cheek and scrunched up her face in a contemplative expression that looked very exaggerated. “What ever happened there, Emmeline? You still haven’t told us.”

Mimi waggled a finger at her friends and gave a playful scowl. “Never you mind.” She turned back to Sophie. “The point is love doesn’t always take into account political positions or proximity or rank.” She made a circular motion with her finger. “Dearest, most of the people at this ball have wed or will for status or money. But a very few of us”—she nodded to her friends—“will have the great privilege of falling in love, and that, Sophronia, is a gift. It does not come without obstacles, and it is never a guarantee against a broken heart.”

“But you will never regret it,” Lady Chatsworth said softly.

Sophie opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped, remembering the look in Detective Graham’s eyes when he’d rescued her from Mr. Baldwin—teasing, warm, familiar... Somehow it had both calmed her worries and sent her heart tumbling. Was that love?

“But...” Sophie could think of nothing to say.

“One cannot control matters of the heart,” Mimi said. “But there are some things we can do to take our minds off the worry.” She winked at Sophie and motioned to one of the servers. “Iced sherbets for all, if you please.”

Chapter 17

Jonathan stood with Sergeant Lesterinside the kitchen, glancing through the partially open door into the dining room as he listened to the man’s report.

“. . . said she would have noticed if any of the other staff had gone missing between six and seven—even for a short amount of time. It was the busy time of night.” The sergeant also glanced through the doorway. “Sir, I believe the killer must have been one of the guests.”

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