Chapter Five
Christopher rushed down the grand staircase of Hawthorne Park. Today, most of the guests would be leaving. He was determined to make his apologies to Lady Sophie before that occurred.
As he’d seen her skating from his window the day before, he knew her to be an early riser.
Of course, he hadn’t known it was her, specifically, who glided so gracefully over the ice, but he felt it had to be her.
It hadn’t been until he’d reached the pond that he knew it to be true.
It was why he’d suggested the race with Durham and Manning.
He’d been acutely aware she skated at the far end, and he wished to have an excuse to skate there, but he hadn’t accounted for the rash actions of Durham.
Now he had two events for which he must ask forgiveness.
It was an unsettling feeling for him. Since he had attended university and then served there, he’d rarely had a need to apologize.
He made a point of being liked by being polite, solicitous, and friendly.
Now that his life goal had been reached, he wished to start it free of any encumbrances.
That he could now leave Oxford and move forward as a landed gentleman, once he purchased the estate he’d inquired upon, he would focus on his future prosperity.
But first he wished to clear his conscience.
At dinner the night before, he had been seated so far from Lady Sophie, he couldn’t talk to her, only watch her.
He’d found it interesting that she never initiated a conversation, only replied when directly spoken to.
That was hardly how she’d been with him at the ball.
He’d thought he’d have his chance to talk to her after the gentlemen had their drinks, when they joined the ladies, but she had already retired.
This morning was his last chance, and he would speak to her before she took her leave.
He strode into the dining room to find it empty except for a sideboard filled with steaming dishes, his own brother, and the Duke of Northwick. The two were related through marriage, since they’d married sisters. He gave a quick bow to His Grace.
“Aren’t you rising earlier than normal?” Andrew, with a plate in his hand, walked toward the table where the duke sat pouring himself coffee.
Christopher smiled at his luck. The duke was very well connected and may be of help. “I am indeed.” He patted his stomach to indicate he was hungry.
Andrew shook his head. “I would think you would still be asleep after celebrating your second win of the weekend.”
Christopher turned toward the sidebar so his brother wouldn’t see him grimace at the reminder of Durham’s rash bet on the ice after the mishap with Lady Sophie. That subject had dominated the dinner conversation, much to his chagrin, even if he had won. “I retired shortly after you.”
“Your friend Durham will run through his estate before the end of the coming Season if he doesn’t reel in his impulses.”
The duke’s observation validated what Christopher had been thinking as well.
Instead of commenting on that, he filled his plate and joined the two men.
It was the perfect opportunity to gather information, since no one else was about.
“I heard the Stoneleigh estate is being sold. It seems a relatively small one.”
Andrew nodded. “I’d heard that as well. It was owned by a Mr. Simons, esquire. Other than that, I have no knowledge.”
“I do.” The duke set down his coffee cup.
“It’s not particularly large, but it could sustain itself.
Unfortunately, it hasn’t been well run. Mr. Simons, from what I understand, left a steward in charge who was less than meticulous.
If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say the steward most likely enjoyed his post, though he was as ill-equipped to run the estate as its owner.
Mr. Simons left for America.” He frowned.
“It appears the supposed riches of that country continue to lead Englishmen across the pond.”
Christopher didn’t know much about His Grace, but he did know that the man despised sea travel.
That the duke’s information validated what he’d thought had him feeling very pleased with his decision to purchase the place.
However, not wishing the gentleman to know of his plans, he shook his head in disbelief.
“I can see, Your Grace, why you run such a prestigious school. Your knowledge is genuinely remarkable.”
“Compliment accepted.”
“Chris, why did you ask about that estate?”
At his brother’s question, Christopher shrugged. “Manning mentioned it when telling me the latest goings-on in his area. He didn’t seem surprised.” He quickly took a bite of scone, not wishing to discuss it further. He wasn’t sure how Andrew would feel about his little brother being a landowner.
“What will you do with the London townhouse Durham lost to you yesterday?” The duke’s brows rose with his question.
Christopher finished chewing then took a sip of coffee, still shocked that Durham had insisted on a bet that he could win a race across the pond and put his townhouse up for it.
“I’ll keep it, of course. I think it was his way of making amends for pushing me on the first race.
That’s the only logical reason he would have made that bet. ”
The duke shook his head. “I fear there was no logic behind it at all. Nevertheless, I congratulate you on your new possession.”
“I can’t believe you accepted that bet,” Andrew said. “How would you have covered it if you lost?”
Fortunately, Christopher had just taken another bite of scone and chewed while his brother waited for an answer.
His Grace filled in the silence. “My guess is you put up what you just won from Lord Harewood. I suggest you refrain from any future bets with Durham or others.”
Christopher nodded before rising to walk to the sideboard. The kedgeree was particularly good, the fish well cooked and the eggs and rice well spiced. He had no plans to leave the dining room until Lady Sophie made an appearance.
He paused in filling his plate. Light footsteps in the parlor heralded the approach of a lady. He silently wished for Lady Sophie.
“Ah, there you are, husband.”
At the sound of his sister-in-law’s voice before she entered the dining room, his hope dwindled, but never one to be disappointed for long, he turned to greet her. “A good day to you, sister.”
Lady Sommerset, in a pale-blue day dress with her blonde hair wisping about her face, looked like a fairy he’d seen in one of William Blake’s illustrations.
She slowed to give him a smile, then moved toward him to take a plate.
“And here we have the winner of the weekend. Do you have any other surprises for us still to come?”
He laughed. “Not that I’m aware of. Yesterday was a fortunate happenstance.”
“And your bet with Harewood?”
“That, my lady, was a well-researched and well-calculated risk that just came to its conclusion before Twelfth Night.”
“And the case of fine scotch that arrived yesterday?”
He sent a look to his brother, who had obviously told his wife about the Christmas gift Christopher had received from a merchant.
“That was nothing more than a gift.”
His sister-in-law cocked her head. “But it appears your good fortune has had a bump or two, has it not?”
His gut tightened. Certainly, she could not know of his mistaken kiss or the unmasking on the terrace. “It has?”
“I believe that skating down poor Lady Sophie was hardly in good form. It was much like a carriage running down a fawn.”
“Now, Amelia, you can’t lay the blame at Chris’s feet for that. It was Durham who pushed him. Quite a vain act that, in my opinion.”
Christopher agreed with Lady Sommerset, but mustered a smile at his brother’s defense. “Indeed, that was very unfortunate. I do hope I have the chance to make my apologies to the lady.” He lifted his now-filled plate to return to the table.
Lady Sommerset followed him with her own. “I doubt that will be possible. All the Curious Ladies are breaking their fast in our hostess’s stargazing room before preparing to leave for school.”
He almost dropped his food at the news. It would be months before the Season started.
Not only did he not wish to be thinking about an owed apology, but he didn’t wish the first time he met Lady Sophie again at an event to be one where he would have to apologize.
And he sincerely hoped to see her again, as he found her intriguing.
It was as if there were two sides of her.
“Is something wrong, Chris?”
At his brother’s question, he realized he remained standing behind his chair. “No, not at all. I was just looking closely at these muffins. Do you think we could have Cook make them like this?”
Lady Sommerset laughed. “I suggest you ask Lady Ferncroft. Some cooks don’t like to share.”
“I suppose you’re right.” He took his seat and began to eat, mulling over his options for seeing Lady Sophie.
It wasn’t long before light steps could be heard crossing the parlor.
Christopher looked up, hoping despite the odds that maybe the lady had come down to eat.
But even as hope rose, the Duchess of Northwick strode into view and stopped.
Her maroon skirts swished at the sudden lack of movement, and the one black curl she always left loose upon her shoulder fell behind her.
Everyone’s conversation halted.
“What is it, Joanna?” Lady Sommerset rose, worry lines creasing her brow.
Christopher stood, as did his brother and the duke.
“It’s Mariel. It’s time.”
The duke walked around the table to his wife. “It’s too early. We must hasten to Ravenridge.”
Christopher had no idea what was happening, but it sounded important, so he remained silent.
“What about the school? Doesn’t your Hilary Term start tomorrow?” Lady Sommerset clasped her hands, her concern obvious. “Unless you plan to delay it and maybe start when Oxford does?”