night of their ball he had not received one offer, verbal or otherwise, for Sophia’s hand. He was not so foolish as to suppose that he would be likely to receive a proposal of marriage every single week for the duration of their stay in town. Nor was he such a doting father that he imagined for a moment that his daughter, lovely though she was, would be to every man’s taste.
There was no denying, either, that Sophia could be troublesome on occasions, and any gentleman hoping for a quiet life would do well to consider long and hard before proposing matrimony to her. Only a gentleman with a stronger will than her own could ever hope to keep Sophia under control. Surely, though, somewhere in the length and breadth of this land existed a gentleman of good birth quite capable of keeping a tight rein on a troublesome filly? His lordship could only hope that this was so, and that it wouldn’t be too long before this ideal mate crossed his daughter’s path.
The door opened and the subject of his thoughts, looking perfectly charming in a lavender silk gown and matching bonnet, swept into the room. The sweetly angelic smile on her face, as she tripped lightly across to the desk, would fool most gentlemen into believing that by nature she was compliant. A grossly inaccurate supposition which any poor deluded fool might make, he decided, his suspicions surfacing anew.
“What on earth have I done to make you scowl so, Papa?” After placing a kiss on the soft, silver-grey hair, she perched herself, uninvited, on the edge of his desk. “Anyone seeing that disapproving look of yours might suppose that I’d been up to some mischief.”
“It is not beyond the realms of possibility that you have been, my dear,” he responded drily, thereby igniting that gurgle of feminine laughter which never failed to bring a smile to his own lips. “Where are you off to this morning, decked out in all your finery?”
“I’m going out with Mama in the carriage to visit Madame Félice. I’m due there in an hour for the final fitting of my new riding habit, and we mustn’t be late, otherwise we might find ourselves having to return some other time.”
“My, my! How things have changed!” his lordship remarked, in the same dry tone. “In my day no seamstress would dare to dictate what time a member of the aristocracy was to arrive at her shop.”
“Ah! But she’s no ordinary dressmaker, Papa. Anyone who is anyone has a gown made by Madame Félice,” Sophia remarked, wickedly mimicking the élite hostess whose ball she had attended the previous night. “Ordinarily, as you know, that wouldn’t weigh with me, but I am desperate to have my new habit finished. I haven’t ridden once since we arrived in town.”
This innocent admission jogged his lordship’s memory, and he wasn’t in the least surprised by Sophia’s crestfallen expression when he apprised her of Clem’s wishing to leave, and the reason behind the young groom’s decision.
“I shall be very sorry to see him go, Papa. I always preferred Clem to accompany me whenever I went out riding.” Slipping lightly from the desk, she went over to the door, but turned back as a dreadful thought suddenly occurred to her. “That doesn’t mean I shall be forced to take Trapp with me for the duration of our stay in town, does it? I shan’t be able to do a thing without his reporting my comings and goings straight back to you.”
“And wouldn’t that be a good thing!” his lordship retorted, wickedly teasing, and then laughed outright as Sophia gave a haughty toss of her head before sweeping regally from the room.
No, it certainly would be no bad thing for someone to keep an eye on the little monkey, he reiterated, silently revising his own plans for the forthcoming weeks.
Although he enjoyed good health, he was no longer a young man, and had decided long before they had embarked on this visit to the metropolis that he would be leaving the supervision of his most trying offspring in his wife’s very capable hands. He had adjusted reasonably well already to town hours, but was very well aware that he no longer possessed the stamina, or the inclination for that matter, to throw himself headlong into the social whirl. None the less, it would not do him a mite of harm, he decided, if just every once in a while he accompanied his wife and daughter out for an evening. His added presence would certainly ensure his daughter’s good behaviour. Furthermore, it would not hurt to have a word with Trapp, just to ensure that this new man was well aware that he must keep a strict watch whenever he accompanied the daughter of the house out on what might very well turn out to be a daily ride, if the weather continued fair.
Although Sophia had said very little when she had learned of Clem’s wishing to leave, she was very upset by the unexpected news. Clem had been her personal groom for more than ten years. Unfailingly vigilant, while at the same time allowing her free rein, he had proved to be the perfect bodyguard and companion during those innumerable rides they had taken across the Earl’s Northamptonshire acres. Some would consider, she didn’t doubt, that her manner towards the young groom had been far too free and easy, but Sophia had looked upon Clem more as a friend than a servant, and she felt that he would be very difficult to replace.
Consequently, when she entered the famous modiste’s premises in Bond Street, her mood was quite naturally subdued. Her mind locked in the past, recalling those numerous occasions when she and her trusty companion had explored farafield areas of the Northamptonshire countryside, she hardly noticed the other customers sitting in the plush velvet chairs, nor did she realise that none other than the much coveted dressmaker herself had accompanied her into the fitting-room until a sweetly accented voice remarked, “Your new habit does not please you, mademoiselle? Or is it, perhaps, something else that makes you unhappy this day?”
Drawing her mind back to the present, Sophia received something of a shock when she discovered the modiste studying her intently, the lovely blue eyes openly assessing. “Oh, no, Madame, the habit is perfect.”
“Not quite,” the modiste countered, her professional eye quickly perceiving a slight fault. “A little adjustment to the skirt is required. I hope then that you will look a little happier when you are wearing it, petite, otherwise my reputation par excellence will tumble, no?”
So the famous modiste had a sense of humour, had she? Sophia mused, quickly detecting the mischievous twinkle in the blue eyes. The dressmaker was possibly more amused than gratified by her meteoric rise to fame, and Sophia felt suddenly drawn to the woman who, she suspected, was not so many years older than herself.
“I assure you, madame, that the habit pleases me very much,” she assured her, taking care not to step on the soft velvet folds as she stepped out of the skirt. “It is just that this morning I received some rather sad news. Someone who has worked for my family for many years is to leave us.”
The smile that curled the dressmaker’s full lips appeared full of warmth and understanding. “I think, perhaps, that the one that leaves you is something more than just a servant, hein?”
Sophia nodded. “More a friend.”
“Then could you not, perhaps, persuade him to stay?” Madame suggested, helping Sophia to don the walking dress and matching pelisse which she herself had made for the Earl’s daughter only the week before.
“I dare say I could, but I shan’t make the attempt.” She caught the dressmaker’s look of surprise in the large, oval mirror. “He has been my personal groom for many years and, I believe, has been happy in his work, but now wishes to better himself. He has been offered the position of head groom on some country estate, though I know not which.” She moved one of her slender hands in a slight gesture of resignation. “It would be selfish of me to try to stop him improving himself.”
The look that sprang into the modiste’s eyes was difficult to interpret, but Sophia thought she could detect a hint of respect in those
