Lady Hornsea actually looked as if she would prefer a surprise involving being trampled to death by wild horses, but returned his smile with one just as fake.
‘My lord. Surprise it is indeed. I had thought you in a debtors’ prison these months past, and yet here you are, hale and oh so hearty.’
His smile wavered only for a fraction of a second.
‘I have a knack of survival ma’am. Like a bad penny, I always turn up.’
‘Ah, but hardly as legal tender.’
Sophy nearly choked, and changed her opinion of Lady Hornsea. What she did not know was that once, some years past, Lord Pinkney had come close, but not quite close enough, to seducing the then Lady Cecilia Cosford. Her eyes had been opened, just in time, by her seeing him at the Opera, when he had no notion she was there, in company with a highly painted young woman whose attractions he seemed to find far more interesting than the singing, and all in a box opposite. Since he had earlier spent the better part of an hour in the Park protesting that without his divine Cecilia his life was dross, that lady became very sceptical of his utterances thereafter.
Lord Pinkney’s eyes sparkled.
‘Sometimes the illegal is so much more … exciting, ma’am, but then you would not know.’
‘My husband is a connoisseur of fine art, sir, and he would say that a fake always betrays its cheapness if one looks beneath the obvious. I have always found you so very obvious, my lord.’
‘Not quite always, my lady, not quite always.’
Lady Hornsea coloured a little, and snapped her fan tight shut. She was at that moment spotted by another acquaintance, and turned away. Sophy would have done likewise, but Lord Pinkney addressed her directly.
‘Cecilia Hornsea is an admirable woman, but very damning. I am used to it, of course. Those who live upon the shores of the River Tick, must perforce accept the cutting words of the permanently well-heeled. But, you know, Lady Sophronia, there is a certain honesty to even such as I, the gamester.’
‘Really? I had not noticed it.’
‘But you, like Lady Hornsea, admire solvency and uprightness. I have to say that it surprised me that you have chosen to be seen with Rothley in attendance with that being the case. Some men gamble with dice and horses and cards, others gamble with hearts, and virtue.’ Pinkney very carefully did not actually state that Lord Rothley was one such, but the implication was clear. He did not expect Lady Sophronia to take his bait as easily, but was very pleased with himself when it became clear that she did.
‘I do not think that Lord Rothley’s … propensities … are of any interest to me, my lord.’
‘Are they not? I am so relieved, ma’am. One would hate to see virtue hoodwinked by vice.’
Sophy, feeling hollow in the pit of her stomach, was at the same moment prey to the near overwhelming urge to strike the satisfied smile from Lord Pinkney’s face.
‘Except at cards, I take it?’
He laughed. ‘Ah there you have me, ma’am. Definitely “except at cards”.’
Lady Harriet felt distinctly uncomfortable in the role of ‘guardian’ over a girl who was the better part of two years her senior, but understood that it was unfair on her elder sister to bear the burden alone. When Susan bemoaned the fact that she had not even been able to change her reading material at Hookham’s Library, a few days later at breakfast, she therefore offered to go with her. To avoid it looking as if this was a burden, she invented the excuse that she had been recommended a novel by one of her friends, and would like to search for it before the title left her head. Sophy gave her sister a grateful look.
They arranged to depart at eleven o’clock and would return in time for a light luncheon. Susan left the breakfast table looking more cheerful than for a week past, and Sophy reached across and took her sister’s hand.
‘Thank you, Harry. You are the best of sisters.’
Lady Harriet blushed and demurred.
Just before eleven, Lady Harriet knocked upon her cousin’s bedchamber door, and was invited to enter. Susan was just closing a small tan valise. Harriet frowned.
‘We are taking a maid with us, so I thought perhaps after Hookham’s we might stop in Conduit Street. The servant can carry this.’
‘What is it?’
‘A valise,’ giggled Susan. ‘I am sorry Harriet, that was facetious, was it not. Actually, it contains a gown, that one I wore last week with the floss trimming. I am sure the arms are too tight when I dance, and I would hate to think of a seam ripping in the middle of a quadrille. Think how embarrassing that would be.’
Harriet nodded, though secretly wondered if Susan knew the meaning of embarrassment.
Susan placed her bonnet on her head, tucked a recalcitrant ringlet into place, and smiled at her cousin.
‘I think I am ready to depart. Let us go.’
