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“I have some slippers. They are a little worn, but I think they will do. We are the same size, fortunately,” Grandma smiled.
Sophy looked down at the satin slippers and wondered if they could get new ones, and then felt a stab of guilt. Her grandmother had done so much for her
already, she could not expect more, nor would she.
“They will be perfect. Thank you so much for all of this. I will repay you, I promise. I will—”
Her grandmother gave a gust of fond laughter. “I don’t expect to be repaid, my love. I want you to have your Harry back and I am hoping he is as perfect a man as you seem to think him. That he will take one look at my beautiful granddaughter and fall in love with her all over again.”
Sophy fought back her tears, while Sir Geoffrey gave a grunt and reached to squeeze her grandmother’s hand. “You are a romantic, Susan.”
Sir Geoffrey had given her a pair of white kid gloves to wear for the evening. Now he reached into his pocket and took out a folded piece of paper, the sort of thick, creamy paper that only the wealthy could afford. “I have the invitation here,” he said. “My sister has agreed to take you. You will blend in with my nieces, although you’re much prettier than them, my dear.”
Sophy felt her cheeks warm. They were both looking at her with identical expressions, as if she was their pride and joy. “Thank you.” She spoke the words with all her heart, her voice ragged. “I am most grateful, Sir Geoffrey. And Grandma, I do not know what to say. You have been so kind, so generous, I—”
Her grandmother gave her a hug. “It has been my pleasure. You make me feel quite young again, Sophy, and there is no need to thank me for that.”
“Now, now, ladies, please dry your eyes,” Sir Geoffrey interrupted. “You cannot go to the ball looking as if you’ve been blubbering. Oh, and before I forget, I brought this along. A bauble to give you luck.”
He fastened the gold chain about her neck, ignoring her protests.
“You’re a chancer after my own heart, Sophy. Throwing everything on the turn of your dice. I admire your courage, my dear.”
Sophy smiled, but it worried her to think that was what she was doing. Gambling on Harry still loving her. Wagering that his heart had not changed. For a moment she felt all her dizzy excitement drain away, leaving her alone with cold possibility.
And then Grandma caught hold of her hands, stepping back and examining her in minute detail. “Are you ready, Sophy?” she asked, with a secretive smile.
Nervous bubbles tumbled in her stomach and thankfully the excitement was back, reminding her she was going to see Harry again. He was a grown man of twenty-three and she was a grown woman of twenty-one. This was the moment when any the misunderstandings and painful longings would be set aside and Sophy and Harry would find their happiness again. Together. The perfect ending to their love story.
Steadfastly, she told herself there could be no other possible outcome.
Chapter 12
SOPHY
1812, Albury House, Mayfair, London
Sophy could only marvel at her surroundings. Adam had been right and this was the event of the Season. Not that she would know, she was ignorant of such matters, other than what she had heard from others. The ballroom was so crowded with guests she was beginning to wonder if there was enough air for them all. Sir Geoffrey’s sister had informed her that those who considered themselves the most well-bred and most important members of London society were all here. Being seen.
Widowed and down at heel, Mrs Harding would not have been invited to the ball without Sir Geoffrey’s intervention, and he had only intervened because of Sophy. Even so his sister did not hesitate to show her displeasure in front of him, and it was obvious to Sophy that she was not happy to have a girl who was far from respectable foisted upon her. She had a feeling that Sir Geoffrey had been very persuasive, and the invitation must have been very tempting to a woman in her position with two unmarried daughters.
Those daughters, Lucy and Charlotte, were sweet and charming and more than ready to make Sophy their friend, even if their mother was not.
“The Rowes own Albury House. They are dreadfully wealthy,” Charlotte had informed her on the way to the ball. “It is said they are even wealthier than the king!” Charlotte tended to talk in exclamations.
Lucy had snorted. “You are a silly. Of course they’re not that rich. But they are rich.” She had leaned closer. “There is a son who is very handsome in a brooding sort of way. Mother would like one of us to marry him.”
“Or both,” Charlotte had sighed, earning another scornful look.
“We can’t both marry one man, silly.”
“I didn’t mean that!”
“Well anyway, there’s a daughter, too. Lady Evelyn Rowe, and she is a renowned beauty. It is said that gentlemen have been queuing outside Albury House to ask for her hand.”
“Now who’s being the silly?” her sister had sneered.
“Girls!” Their mother had had quite enough and gave them a glare across the carriage.
