girl! You could choose—’
‘No, sir,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m afraid we are both too wilful to get along together in the manner I think you are suggesting.’
He withdrew his hand from her grasp. ‘I’d expected as much.’ He gave her a look she thought might be regretful. ‘But I’d hoped I was wrong.’
‘I would like it if we could find our way toward some kind of relationship.’
He was silent a long time. So long she thought he might not answer at all. When he finally spoke, he avoided her eye. ‘I wondered if perhaps you remember. Did your father ever speak to you, of me, when you were a child?’
‘Yes, of course. He had your likeness in a miniature, which he often showed me. He told me tales of your childhood. He loved Cranbourne House.’ It was the earl’s principal estate, situated five and twenty miles from the small estate where Sophie had grown up. She had never seen it.
‘And, your mother?’
Still, he looked away, where Sophie could not read his face. She understood what it was he was asking. ‘She spoke fondly of you.’ Now Sophie was the one looking down at her hands in her lap. ‘It was one of the reasons I was so looking forward to living with you.’
A trill of nearby laughter distracted them both from their sombre thoughts. It was a party, after all, and life did go on, despite old hurts.
‘Well, then …’ Her uncle had recovered and was motioning someone toward them. ‘You’ll recall Mr Huxley, won’t you?’
The gentleman reached them and made his bow. Sophie and her uncle stood to greet him. She did indeed remember him—her uncle had gone out of his way to present him at Mrs Dawson’s. Sophie had wondered at it, as the two seemed as unlikely a pair as she had ever seen.
An odd, but likeable gentleman, Mr Huxley had talked at length of his map collection.
‘A pleasure to meet you again, sir.’
‘The pleasure is mine, Miss Westby. Will you take a stroll about the room with me?’
‘Yes, you young people run along,’ her uncle agreed. ‘There’s a discussion on the Corn Laws going on over there that needs my insightful input.’
The realisation struck Sophie suddenly that her uncle might be matchmaking. Nevertheless, she laid her hand on Mr Huxley’s arm and allowed him to lead her off.
‘Your uncle tells me, Miss Westby, that you have been travelling a great deal into Kent.’
‘Why, yes, I am involved in a project that takes me there every few days of late.’
‘Which roads do you travel? I’ll wager a monkey that I know a route that will shorten your travel time by at least a quarter of an hour.’
Finally dry and presentable, Charles made his entrance after most of the guests had arrived and dinner was nearly ready to be announced. He went first to his mother, to apologise for his lateness, and found her chatting with Miss Ashford.
His mother simultaneously scolded and embraced him. Miss Ashford greeted him with her customary cool courtesy. He supposed he should be grateful that she acknowledged him at all, considering the escalating scandal surrounding his name. Indeed, he was grateful, he told himself sternly. He noticed that a few of the other young ladies his mother had invited for his benefit were not to be seen. Her very presence tonight was a testimony to Miss Ashford’s loyalty and character. He resolved to devote himself to her this evening, and to firmly suppress the small part of him that wished to feel more than gratitude for his future bride.
Miss Ashford’s father, however, requested a moment of his time, and Charles could not but agree. The baron drew him aside, and gestured to the long, crowded room full of glittering guests.
‘A nice evening,’ he said. ‘Perfect mix of business and pleasure.’
‘Thank you, sir. I hope you and your family will enjoy yourselves.’
‘No doubt. Womenfolk are in alt planning that charity ball.’
Charles nodded his sympathy. Miss Ashford had indeed struck upon the idea of a charity ball, and showed more enthusiasm for it than anything he had yet seen in her. ‘It is very good of your daughter to devote herself to such works.’
Lord Ashford gave an indulgent smile. ‘She’s a very good sort of girl, Dayle. Just what a lady ought to be.’
‘I hope you are aware of my agreement on that score,’ Charles said easily.
‘Well, that’s the subject I wished to discuss with you. I thought we had an understanding regarding your intentions, but now I find myself unsure.’
Startled into stupidity, Charles just gaped. ‘Sir?’
‘Rumours are one thing, Dayle. A man can’t help what the tabbies will say about him, most especially if he possesses as chequered a past as your own.’ He nodded his head in approval. ‘You’ve had a rough spot recently, and I thought you were handling it well. Some kind of ruckus seemed inevitable, and I thought you might as well put your past to rest early in your career rather than later. Good for you too. Tempered steel is stronger, as they say.’
‘I can honestly say, I never thought about it in that light.’
‘But this broadsheet’s another thing entirely. Takes it to another level, so to speak. Can’t have my girl mixed up in such.’
‘Surely you don’t believe such rubbish, Lord Ashford?’ said Charles, his temper starting to get the best of him.
‘Don’t matter what I believe, when it gets to this point. Matters what the rest of the world believes. I have a good bit of political weight. Meant to throw it behind you, if you and my girl found you suited. But I don’t mean to hitch my girl to a runaway wagon, if you understand. Want what’s best for her.’
‘I comprehend your meaning, sir,’ said Charles. And he did indeed understand the most salient point: his unseen opponent was gaining ground.
‘Now, don’t fret. You just keep your feet on the straight path and the situation will right itself.’ He squeezed Charles’s shoulder in a fatherly gesture. ‘My girl rather fancies you, I believe. At least she likes you as well as she’s ever liked anyone. If you need my help, you need only to ask.’
‘You are most generous,’ said Charles. It was a struggle to keep the bitterness from his voice.
The baron departed in search of his spouse, and Charles returned to Miss Ashford and his mother. Once there, however, he found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation. The events of this long and trying day were beginning to take their toll. He could swear the universe was conspiring against him. The harder he tried, it appeared, the heavier his burdens grew.
Suddenly the crowd in the parlour shifted. His gaze fell on Sophie, and the weight of his troubles was instantly forgotten. She was stunning. Her shining dark tresses were arranged in an elaborate coiffure that accented the length and slenderness of her neck. Her shimmering gown, dark blue over a white satin slip, had the same effect on her frame, without hiding her luscious curves. She was standing with Mrs Lowder and a blonde gentleman
