There was also no blancmange on the table, or any other of the foods and decorations that the old Duke had considered so disgusting.
“I beg your pardon?” He glanced down at Sophia, forcing a watery smile.
She simpered. “You were quite in a dream-world there, Lord Henry. I was only telling you of a thing I saw Miss Bellamy do the other night. She is quite ridiculous at times, with no sense of occasion at all. It hardly matters, though. I would pay a penny for your thoughts. No, a full shilling. What do you say?”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t believe my thoughts are worth a straw, Miss Redford. Perhaps you ought to spend your money on better things.”
Her self-satisfied smile wavered, as if she had expected something else.
“Well, as you like. But youwerevery deep in thought. Your brow was furrowed, and you looked almost angry.”
She really wasn’t going to let it go. Henry smothered a sigh. The first course was coming out, some sort of soup or another. The dessert dishes were already on the table, mounds of sugared fruit and grandiose cakes and trifles.
“I was just wondering,” Henry murmured, “Why there’s no blancmange. It’s my mother’s favourite dessert, you see. Not that we ever ate it as children.”
“Oh? Why not?” Sophia asked, glancing around as if already losing interest.
Henry smiled grimly at nothing in particular. “Do you know, I have no idea. It’ll remain a mystery, I suppose.”
***
It was clear, from a glance at Miss Sophia Redford’s face, that she was furious.
She was almost pouting, plucking at the strings of her harp harder than was necessary, making all of the music staccato.
Henry supposed she had imagined a sort of concerto, with herself playing harp on a platform to an adoring audience, with Henry in the forefront.
However, the Dowager had other ideas. The card-tables were up and ready, with a few people playing other games, like chess and backgammon, and a little knot of older folks chatting in low voices in the corner. The harp was set by the pianoforte, and poor Sophia Redford had been sitting there for a full half an hour, playing piece after piece, with nobody paying much attention to her - they were all focused on their games.
Henry had been roped into a game of cards, and had his back turned to Sophia, so she couldn’t even imagine that he was staring wistfully at her.
If the girl wasn’t so unkind, Henry might have felt sorry for her.
The Dowager was flitting from table to table, making sure that everybody was enjoying themselves. Katherine and Timothy were playing chess by themselves, William was making up another member of the card table, along with a lady who seemed to be constantly fighting sleep.
The fourth member was Richard Grenville, the rival to the Fairfax empire.
There wasn’t much chatting. They were focused on their cards. Henry smothered a yawn and resisted the urge to glance at the clock. It would only be five minutes later from the last time he had looked, and then he would feel despondent.
“I hear that you’ve joined hands with the Fairfaxes, Lord Henry,” Lord Richard said abruptly, making the half-asleep lady jerk awake and nearly drop her cards.
Henry eyed him thoughtfully.
“Now, where did you hear that, I wonder?”
Lord Richard chuckled. “Word gets around, my friend. You should know that.”
“I suppose. Well, then, I may as well tell you that it’s true, and the business is finalized.”
Henry glanced up to find William’s eyes on him, although his older brother said nothing. William knew, of course, that Henry had gone into partnership with the Fairfaxes. Henry had not yet asked for the money for the capital he had promised. Silly, of course. It couldn’t – shouldn’t – be put off for much longer.
It would not be a fun conversation. However, the conversation with Charles and Eleanor Fairfax would be even worse, when he finally admitted that he did not have the money he’d promised them.
“Well, I suppose it is your choice, after all,” Lord Richard said, with just the right amount of reluctance. “I’m not sure I would have chosen to ally myself with the Fairfaxes, but no doubt you have done your due diligence.”
“What?” William spoke up, just as Henry had known he would. He glanced between his brother and Lord Richard, frowning. “It is Lord Richard Grenville, is it not? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced properly.”
“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you, your Grace,” Richard said, smiling easily. “I own a pottery business not unlike the Fairfaxes, but mine is a little… oh, how should I say this? A little more orderly.”
