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“I wouldn’t advise it,” he said sharply, “Not unless you’re wagering against.”
Adam took a gulp of his cooling coffee. “So what is this master plan to extract yourself from the clutches of loveless matrimony and win back Sophy?”
“I was hoping you might have some suggestions. You seem to be good at upsetting people.”
Adam gave a slow smile. “I can think of a few.” He stood up and went to his brother, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. His hazel eyes were bleary with drink but there was affection in them, perhaps even pride.
“We’ll sort it out,” Adam said, his voice reassuring. “You know that you and Sophy were always destined to be together.”
“But what if you’re right and it’s too late?” Harry replied.
Adam gave a broad shrug. “Then we make another plan.” He wrapped his arm around Harry, giving him an awkward hug. “One step at a time, brother. Let’s march on to victory, eh? In the meantime, you have to do something so despicable that neither Albury nor father will be able to fix it.”
Harry gave him an expectant look.
“Leave it to me!”
Chapter 25
SOPHY
The Marquis of Darlington’s annual Breakfast was one of the most anticipated events of the Season, or so Susan and Sir Geoffrey said. Although it was called a ‘breakfast’, in actual fact it began after noon and went on well into the evening, with dancing and eating, both inside the house and out in the garden. Hundreds of guests were expected, and Sophy was going to be one of them.
She still wasn’t sure why she had been added to the guest list—the marquis was not a friend of Sir Geoffrey’s—but she suspected it was because of James. She had also begun to make friends of her own and had, much to her surprise, found a niche in London society.
Her grandmother had taken to wondering aloud when James would propose, with a twinkle in her eye as if she was teasing, but Sophy knew better. She didn’t want to disappoint her, she really didn’t, but after she and James had their heart to heart and he told her the truth about Evelyn, she couldn’t see them in love. Not the sort of love she had experienced before. Two broken hearts didn’t make a whole. They were friends. Good friends.
The Marquis of Darlington’s house was large, with immaculate grounds; the gardens were in full bloom, and the lawns were green and smooth as carpet. The day had dawned clear and there was an almost cloudless blue summer sky. As Sophy alighted from James’s carriage, her thoughts went spiralling back to her summers spent at Pendleton. The white garden would be looking its best right now, and just for a moment she imagined Harry’s hand reaching for hers as they strolled together.
Her fingers closed on nothing but air.
She wondered if she would ever stop thinking of him. Whenever she was beginning to heal, the memories would come and tear at her all over again.
Sophy shook off her melancholy, reminding herself how fortunate she was, and tried to pay attention to her surroundings. There were a large number of carriages and coaches lined up in the square, their excited occupants alighting. This queue was longer than any she had seen before and her eyes grew wide with astonishment.
“It will be a terrible crush,” her chaperone stated smugly. Being invited to something that was a ‘terrible crush’ was to be the envy of London Society, and Mrs Harding was going to relish every moment of it.
James shared a knowing smile with Sophy. “There are people out there who would give their right arm to take our place.”
“One cannot dance without a right arm, can one?” Lucy mused.
Charlotte leaned closer. “I believe they are going to be dancing the waltz!”
The waltz was still thought scandalous enough in some circles that only a few of the Season’s events included it, but it was gaining popularity. Sophy and the two Harding girls had learned the mechanics of it, just in case, though their mother refused to agree to their actually dancing it.
There was more queuing needed to get into the house, an elegant Georgian building, and Sophy was glad to finally escape through the French windows and onto the lawns. Once there, they discovered long tables groaning with food, and chairs set beneath shady trees. For the more energetic there was country dancing on the west side of the house, and a harpist holding court in the rose garden.
The Marquis was a pleasant grey-haired man, his wife a petite brunette with a dimpled smile. They knew James, but then everyone knew James, and made his party welcome.
“There is waltzing on the east side of the house,” the Marquis said with a wink. “If you wish to be a little more daring.”
“My daughters are quite daring enough,” Mrs Harding replied, with a glare at her obviously disappointed daughters, “thank you very much, my Lord Marquis.”
They walked on and there was a duke she recognised, and a countess with her retinue. A couple of war heroes and their wives, or she assumed they were wives, as well as plenty of the lesser nobility. Sophy had learned to know them on sight now, and even on occasion to receive a nod of recognition herself. She had come a long way from the daughter of a disgraced estate manager, and the little girl Sir Arbuthnot had not thought good enough for his eldest son.
Again she pushed the thought away. She had become good at pushing thoughts away that contained Harry, especially when she was supposed to be enjoying herself. Her feelings remained in turmoil after their conversation in the library at Monkstead House, but she hadn’t changed her mind. If Harry wanted to turn into his father then she couldn’t stop him, but she wasn’t going to be the other woman.
James led the way to the rose garden where they lingered over the scented blooms. The two Harding girls were keen to dance, even if it wasn’t to be the waltz, so their mother took them off to join in the country dancing, and instructed Sophy to find them soon.
