Chapter 12
Three days after the opera, the infection in Lady Poole’s throat had descended into the lungs, and Sophia was just bidding farewell to the doctor who had come to examine her.
As she settled into the drawing room, Turton brought her the morning post that included an invitation to Mrs. Taylor’s alfresco picnic that Mr. Grantly had promised during his morning call.
Marie arrived shortly afterward to inquire after her mother’s health, and Sophia was able to relay the pleasing news that the doctor did not think her in any real danger.
After exhausting the subject of treatments and necessary time for convalescence, their conversation turned to the picnic.
Marie pulled out her own invitation and was able to confide that Mr. Harwood would be in attendance.
She knew this because he had come to collect from her father a list of widows from various coastal towns whose husbands had died at sea.
He was to go and gather petitions from them and present these in Parliament.
Having her best friend with her in London produced contrasting sentiments in Sophia’s heart.
On one hand, it was all she had wished for when she imagined spending her season with Marie.
They were together almost daily and enjoyed the same pastimes.
Since Marie had no siblings, she came to Grosvenor Square often and was fond of her whole family.
Their conversation was comfortable, and Sophia never felt pressure to be someone other than who she was. Such were the blessings.
These pleasures were mitigated by the fact that every time Marie mentioned Mr. Harwood, Sophia was reminded of how well-suited her friend was to him.
Marie’s father esteemed him enough to serve as his patron, and it was only natural that the admiral would welcome him as a son-in-law.
As for Sophia, she had only fleeting moments to latch on to that suggested he was interested in more than friendship.
Mr. Harwood was known to be congenial and friendly to all, which meant that she must weigh every interaction cautiously.
It was only at certain times that she suspected some deeper affection existed between them.
It was those fleeting glances or the lingering regard when he thought she was not looking, the occasional touch.
The way he seemed to gravitate toward her.
But she could not even rejoice when she observed these promising signs, let alone dream of building anything in the way of a courtship with him.
That would mean being disloyal to her best friend, and she could not hurt her that way.
From a purely objective standpoint, Marie would be a better fit for Mr. Harwood.
She would certainly be capable of hosting his political dinners.
Yet Sophia was prisoner to the affection she had for Mr. Harwood; it was not something she could put aside like last night’s gown.
The day of the picnic dawned bright, and the earl’s carriage brought Sophia, Camilla, and Marie to the rendezvous spot at the base of Primrose Hill.
They stepped out of it into a festive atmosphere where other carriages were depositing guests, none of whom she knew.
They all appeared to be older. Scores of servants carried rugs and baskets up the hill while others returned to fetch more items. From the evidence before her, it would be a feast.
She looked around for a sight of Mr. Harwood, but instead saw Robert. He was not looking in her direction, so she steered Camilla to where they were hidden by the carriage. Perhaps, if she were in luck, he would not attach himself to her this afternoon.
He had grown bolder at the opera. When they were left alone in the box together, she was almost breathless from fear that he would declare himself.
Thankfully, he did no more than insinuate, but she had no confidence that he would just fade from her life.
It would likely require a firm rebuff in order to shut down his intentions.
Such a confrontation was what she dreaded the most.
“There is Mr. Grantly.” Marie indicated the gentleman with a nod.
Sophia had never really taken Mr. Grantly’s measure.
He had been at Chawleigh Manor that day when she first met Mr. Harwood, and she knew he was Robert’s friend from school, but he seemed a distracted sort of gentleman and not at all warm-hearted.
As though he could change one company for another without suffering any loss.
But then, she could not know any such thing with certainty.
At his side was an older woman she deemed to be his aunt directing the servants up the hill the way a sergeant might direct his troops. It appeared she was not allowing any of the guests to ascend until everything had been prepared.
“Shall we go and greet our hostess?” Marie glanced at her then Camilla, who nodded. They led the way to Mrs. Taylor and Mr. Grantly, with Sophia following behind.
“It was kind of you…” Camilla began, her words trailing away when Mr. Grantly turned abruptly to address a servant.
Whether he had snubbed her sister accidentally or on purpose Sophia could not guess, but it was the second time he had been rude to her.
Camilla turned back to Mrs. Taylor with a bright smile. “…to have invited us.”
Sophia had begun to notice a change in Camilla now that Dorothea was no longer with them at all Society events.
Whenever they went somewhere together, she tended to take on the more vocal role that Dorothea had held before.
She was certainly more at ease in that role than Sophia would ever be.
Another reason why she would make a terrible wife for an MP.
“It is a pleasure to have you here.” Mrs. Taylor’s greeting was welcoming but brisk, like a woman used to having things her way.
The embellishments on her hat trembled in the breeze as her eyes surveyed the comings and goings of the servants.
“When Pierce spoke to me of inviting some of his young friends, I was immediately in favor of the idea. There’s nothing more tedious than a picnic made up of nothing but old people. ”
“Robert!”
Sophia recognized Mr. Harwood’s voice, and Marie must have, too, for she turned to it, her smile at the ready.
Sophia’s heart sank. It was no surprise that her friend would be glad to see him.
They watched while Robert spoke to Mr. Harwood, and she thought he seemed more friendly and approachable somehow when Mr. Harwood was present.
She didn’t know why she was so opposed to Robert’s presence.
He was likely not a monster—in fact she knew he was not.
It was just that he was not a good match for her, and it was painful to be forced to endure his attentions because he thought she was.
If only he could be convinced they did not suit.
Camilla leaned in to murmur to Sophia, “If you had to choose between the two of them, I believe I can divine which one you would prefer to be seated by.”
Sophia darted a look at her. Had Camilla truly guessed where her heart lay? She turned to see if Marie had heard Camilla’s comment. Marie had and was smiling, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“I daresay I can guess, too. I may have to share Mr. Harwood.”
Marie’s unaffected laughter submerged Sophia with a flood of guilt for holding the same man in affection as Marie, especially when all logic pointed to her being a better match for him.
She was grateful to have a friend so guileless and kind.
Marie was not of a competitive nature, but somehow that made the guilt even sharper.
Then there was the growing suspicion that Camilla knew of her secret longing.
As Sophia was unused to sharing the deepest part of her heart with others, she did not know what to do with that possibility.
“Lady Sophia.” Robert had caught sight of her, and he raised his hand in a wave as he came over.
Mr. Harwood had managed to put him in a good humor, for his smile was genuine.
He greeted Camilla and Marie with a polite bow and cordial tone.
Sophia could not help but risk a glance at Mr. Harwood, who upon catching her look, strode over and bowed deeply.
“Good afternoon, my lady.”
“Mr. Harwood,” she replied, curtsying. His face was flushed, and it hadn’t been when he was talking to Robert. Was it her imagination, or was he overly conscious in greeting her? He seemed…flustered, but surely that could not be.
The servants had finished carrying up the rugs and accoutrements for the picnic, and Mrs. Taylor invited the guests to climb the hill. Robert leapt forward to hold out his arm.
“Lady Sophia, the path will be difficult for you. Allow me to assist.”
She was unable to hide the frown that came to her brow.
If he found her so infirm, why on earth did he wish to marry her?
Besides, it was not as though she were infirm.
Sophia glanced behind her, miserable in the knowledge that she must accept.
She would have much preferred Mr. Harwood’s company.
Besides, now Camilla would have no one to walk with.
“Miss Mowbray, Lady Camilla, allow me to walk with you, so I might be of assistance to either of you, or both—whomever might require it.”
“You are too kind, Mr. Harwood.” Marie’s smile sounded in her voice behind Sophia, and she understood why. His offer was gallant. He did not declare that the women needed his help—only that he would be there if they did.
“Thank you,” Camilla added, and Sophia heard their steps and light conversation as they climbed the hill. In truth, the path was not always easy to manage, for it was slippery in places. The knowledge that Mr. Harwood had been gallant to her sister warmed her heart.
“You look very lovely today, Lady Sophia,” Robert said as they walked, patting her hand on his arm.
“Thank you, Mr. Cunningworth.”