Chapter 14
Lincolnshire,
“I’m eager to arrive,” Sophie said as she bounced her knee, practically vibrating with repressed energy. “I didn’t realize that Lincolnshire was quite so far from London.”
They’d been travelling for days.
Days.
That was a long time to be enclosed in a carriage with her mother and their respective maids. If she couldn’t stretch her legs soon, she might go mad.
Her mother tsked. “Stop fussing. We’re almost there.”
Sophie sighed. “You said that three hours ago.”
“And compared to three days of travelling, we were close. You are terribly overdramatic, my dear. Anyone would think we’d pushed on without stopping for food or sleep.”
Sensing that her mother had no patience for her restlessness, Sophie stared out the window. Green stretched in every direction. She’d seen the countryside during their journeys to and from their rural estate, but that was much closer to London.
Out here, the grass was more vibrant, and leafy trees dotted the landscape. It was beautiful, and what she really wanted was to get on a horse and let it gallop through the fields as she clung on for dear life.
Ambling along at their current pace, cooped up, was getting to her.
Perhaps she wouldn’t have been so bored if they’d travelled in convoy with Nicholas or—even better—with him in the carriage.
But her mother had insisted that it would be inappropriate for them to travel together considering there was no understanding between them, so Nicholas had to make his own way.
She rested her chin on the back of her hand and gazed into the distance. No doubt Nicholas had made better time than them, and he’d probably had a lot more fun on the way.
Beside her, Betsy groaned and clutched her stomach. The poor thing was prone to carriage sickness. Sophie had given her the opportunity to stay behind, but Betsy had insisted on accompanying them.
Now, Sophie had to wonder if she regretted that choice.
They rounded a bend in the road, and a building gradually came into view.
Sophie bolted upright. “Is that it? Are we here?”
She couldn’t tell much about the building from such a distance except that it was rectangular and a very pale shade of yellow.
Lady Carlisle looked out the nearest window and nodded. “Yes, that’s Nunhaven.”
“Thank God!”
Her mother gave her a sharp look.
Sophie cringed. “Sorry. I’m just excited that we’re almost done travelling.”
“I hope you remember to hold your tongue around our companions during this house party. It won’t do your marriage prospects any good if you curse like a sailor.”
Turning her face into her shoulder, Sophie hid her smile. She hardly thought that taking the lord’s name in vain constituted “swearing like a sailor,” but she wasn’t about to say that.
She continued to watch through the window as they crossed a bridge over a river.
The house was blocky, and as they drew closer, she was able to make out a fountain on the front lawn.
At least twenty rectangular windows overlooked the frontage, and a small staircase in the center of the building led to the main entrance.
The land immediately surrounding the building was flat and grassy, with neatly manicured gardens on either side and, farther back, sporadic stands of trees that interrupted what might otherwise be an uninteresting landscape.
Hopefully she would be able to go riding soon. It looked like there was plenty of space for it, and surely the Wembleys would have a horse she could borrow. She’d had to leave Dandelion behind in London.
The carriage turned onto a long, winding drive that led to the house. There was a figure standing at the top of the stairs—perhaps a servant waiting to ensure that they were greeted appropriately.
As they stopped in front of the manor house, Sophie turned away from the window and waited for someone to open the carriage door.
Lady Carlisle exited first, and Sophie hurried after her, relieved to feel the ground beneath her feet. She wanted to swing her legs and stretch her arms above her head, but the servant must’ve already alerted others to their arrival, because a group was heading down to greet them.
Forcing herself not to behave like a small child let out of the schoolroom, Sophie plastered on her most social smile and stood silently at her mother’s side.
Lord and Lady Wembley were at the fore, with a gentleman in tow who resembled Lord Wembley quite remarkably. His son, perhaps. The one whom Baron Sylvestor was friendly with.
They exchanged polite greetings, and then Lady Wembley turned her full attention to Sophie’s mother, while Lord Wembley was distracted by a member of staff. That left Sophie and the Wembleys’ son, Trevor, to converse between themselves.
“I hope the journey was enjoyable,” Trevor said awkwardly, looking about as if someone might appear to save him from having to engage in small talk.
It was fortunate that he wasn’t on her list of gentlemen she might be interested in marrying because if so, this response would have been quite a blow to her ego.
“We travelled smoothly and didn’t encounter any difficulties,” she replied, which was true. There was no reason to tell him how badly she wanted to scream to be let out of the carriage by the time they’d pulled down the drive. “I understand you live here year-round?”
He nodded. “I intend for it to remain that way until I have to take my father’s position in Parliament. My interests are in botany, agriculture, and outdoor pursuits. I have little time for the city.”
Sophie smirked. He was so matter-of-fact. He reminded her a little of Kate’s sister-in-law, Amelia, who was fanatical about her areas of interest and didn’t care one whit about anything else.
“Have many other guests arrived yet?” she asked to fill the silence.
“Most of them.” He bared his teeth in what was probably supposed to be a smile but came across as more of a grimace. “I believe we are only waiting for one more party.”
She grinned slyly. “I suspect that you’ll be glad when we leave and you can return to your quiet life.”
His face fell. “Oh, no, Lady Sophie! I—”
She laughed and held up her hand to cut him off. “Never fear, I don’t take it personally. At least, I shan’t unless you want me to?”
He stared at her as if she were a new variety of poisonous plant that fascinated his botanist mind—and maybe made him a little sick. “No, of course not.”
She sighed. She knew better than to tease someone so serious. It might be fun, but she’d have to restrain herself in future.
Lady Wembley clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll have the housekeeper show you to your rooms. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up before joining the others.”
“That sounds lovely,” Lady Carlisle agreed.
Stones crunched beneath Sophie’s feet as they made their way toward the manor, where the housekeeper escorted them to the guest wing on the left side of the main foyer.
Sophie and her mother were assigned rooms across the hall from each other. Sophie’s was slightly smaller, with a wooden floor, dark pink curtains, cream-and-pink patterned wallpaper, and a gilt-framed mirror above the dressing table.
The housekeeper informed them that dinner would be served at six in the formal dining room. Before she left them, Sophie requested that a bath be prepared for her, and soon after, a pair of footmen carried in a tub and hauled water to fill it.
Only when they were done did she strip out of her travel dress and sink into the water. It was hot but not scalding, and she immediately felt cleaner.
They’d brought a bar of soap with them, and she washed herself but left her hair, knowing that she would need Betsy’s help with that, and unfortunately her maid was currently being shown to her own sleeping quarters.
Refreshed and smelling faintly of flowers, she stepped out of the bath and used a plush towel to dry herself.
There was a light knock at the door, and she wrapped the towel around herself and padded over, opening it just a crack so she could peer through and confirm that it was Betsy on the other side.
She opened the door wider and stepped aside to let the maid in.
“Are your quarters suitable?” she asked Betsy.
“Yes, they’re nice enough.”
“Good.” Sophie knew some families didn’t house their servants very well, and whenever they visited someone, she worried about the conditions the servants accompanying them would be expected to weather. “Have you heard if Mr. Blackwell has arrived? Or Baron Sylvestor?”
Betsy nodded. “I believe both arrived earlier today.”
That was good. It meant Sophie wouldn’t waste time waiting around for them.
“Thank you for finding that out. Will you help me choose a dress?”
Her clothing had already been delivered. The carriage with their belongings in it had travelled a few hours ahead of them, and Sophie had glimpsed her garments hanging in place before she bathed.
Betsy opened the wardrobe and surveyed the options. “Is there a formal dinner tonight?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Then you’ll want to dress to impress. Perhaps one of the new silk gowns from Madam Baptiste?”
Sophie looked over Betsy’s shoulder. It wasn’t a ball, so she didn’t want to wear anything too extravagant, but if she intended to capture a man’s attention, she did need to look the part.
“Green,” she decided. “But not one of the showier designs. Simple and elegant.”
Betsy rifled through the dresses and stopped on one. “Like this?”
“Yes, that will do nicely.”
Betsy helped her into the dress, and then Sophie checked the time. She had a little extra before they would be called for dinner. Perhaps she might be able to find Nicholas and make sure he was settling in well.
So thinking, she slipped quietly from the room and started to tiptoe down the hall, hoping that no one would notice her absence.
Unfortunately, a door swung open, and her mother stepped through.
Drat.
Why had he agreed to come here?