Sophie gasped quietly at such a wager. “Are you sure that’s true?”
“I heard it from my brother himself.” Rose gave an emphatic nod, making it clear the information could not be doubted.
For some reason, the thought of Lord Tamworth betting suchsignificant wealth disappointed her. Though it was obvious he enjoyed himself, she did not have the impression that he was frivolous, and he appeared to be a kind man.
“Tell me, Sophie. What haveyouobserved?”
She chose her words carefully. “He appears to be well liked by both men and women. He also seems nice, and I did speak with him briefly at the ball, so I know he’s familiar with Shakespeare.”
Rose chuckled then quickly covered her mouth with her hand as two ladies seated in the row of chairs in front of them turned to frown. She leaned in closer. “Only you would remark on what a man has read. But actually…”
At the look in Rose’s pretty blue eyes, Sophie stiffened. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinkingThe Merry Wives of Windsor.”
The Merry Wives of Windsor? Immediately, Sophie conjured up the plot in her head. While she had thought Lord Tamworth as jovial and happy in life as the knight Falstaff, she didn’t believe he deserved any of the pranks played upon that character. “Rose, no. He is not the usual instructor. He is only temporary and there will be repercussions.”
“Only if they discover who did it.” Rose waggled her brows before she suddenly stood with everyone else, the welcome over.
Sophie remained where she was as Rose blended into the crowd of ladies exiting the room. She clasped her hands together, worrying her thumb against her palm. As much as she’d hoped not to talk to Lord Tamworth, she must warn him, not only for his sake but also for Rose’s. Her pranks were becoming more and more daring. In fact, Sophie had planned to speak to the duchess, who always seemed to understand how to fix a problem.
Glancing across the room between the standing ladies, she could see Lord and Lady Sommerset talking with Lord Tamworth and Mrs. Kingman. What she should do was stand, walk over to them, andexplain what she knew. Rosalind would.
Determined, she rose. It would be awkward, but this was important. As the last of the ladies cleared her path, she found the four she sought walking out the doors at the other end of the room. She should run after them.
And yet she remained where she was until the doors closed behind them.
“Sophie, come on. We only have an hour before studying.” Georgie grabbed her hand and pulled her along toward the grand stairs.
Sophie walked stiffly, disappointed in herself. Could she only be Rosalind while in disguise? Why couldn’t she be bold and confident every day? Because she was a coward. She was no better than Robert Burns’swee sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie.She was no more than a mouse.
Once she’d returned to her room, she waited until the corridor was quiet once more. She slipped out and moved quickly back downstairs again to the kitchens.
Mrs. Boyd bustled about giving directions, encouragement, and tasting as she orchestrated their evening meal, still hours away.
Sophie slipped into a chair at the modest wood table, which sat six people, those who worked in the main kitchen. Larger tables were found in a room off the main kitchen for the many servants of Silver Meadows. Still others ate in the stables, while a few lived nearby and returned home when not at work. She found the main kitchen to be her favorite. Unlike at home, the cook at Silver Meadows was a lovely, grandmotherly person who welcomed everyone and had an enduring faith in the goodness of people.
Mrs. Boyd, despite the amount of food preparation in process, didn’t take long to notice Sophie. The older cook smiled and immediately squeezed between the woman at the fireplace and the man at the table where a pig was being cut up. “My lady, it is so reassuring toknow you are back.” She wiped her hands on her apron and pulled out a chair opposite Sophie, so she faced the kitchen and could keep an eye on her help.
Sophie returned the smile, always feeling more comfortable with people who were not of the peerage. “Did you think I would not return?”
Mrs. Boyd tucked a stray white hair back into her bun. “I both fear and hope that you’ll be scooped up by a dashing duke or an excellent earl. Would you like some tea?”
Even before Sophie could nod, Mrs. Boyd had risen and was off to procure the cups of tea and cream. When she returned, she set the tea down and poured liberal amounts of cream in both cups, then slid one across the table to Sophie. “There you are. Now tell me all about your time away. Did you attend any balls? Did you participate in Christmastide festivities? Did you meet a man you’d like to reacquaint yourself with during the Season?”
“Yes. Yes. And no.” Sophie laughed at Mrs. Boyd’s raised brows.
“How can this be? If you attended balls and festivities, you must have met someone of interest.” Mrs. Boyd took a sip of tea, her brown eyes alight with curiosity.
The Silver Meadows cook was fifty-six years old, something Sophie had learned shortly after her first foray into the kitchens. Not only was Mrs. Boyd an expert at overseeing such a large kitchen, but she had a fascination with the aristocracy, an interest her husband encouraged, since she brought him such fun stories.
Sophie set her two fingers to her jaw as if thinking about her many activities, when Lord Tamworth’s face popped into her head. She ignored the reminder. “I met many people of interest, and some I hope to have as friends during the Season, but most were women.”
“Even at Christmastide? Surely there were eligible men about.” Mrs. Boyd took another sip of tea, her gaze never wavering.
“Christmastide was wonderful. I went to Lady Ferncroft’s newhome. That’s Lady Eleanor.”
Mrs. Boyd set her hand to her chest. “Oh, we all loved Lady Eleanor here.”
