Chapter 22
As Betsy tied the laces on the back of Sophie’s dress the following morning, someone knocked on the bedchamber door.
Who on earth would call on her at this hour?
Sophie waited until her dress was secure, intrigued when the person knocked again.
“Am I decent?” she asked Betsy.
Betsy grinned. “As much as you ever are, my lady.”
Sophie snorted inelegantly and went to the door. When she swung it open, her mother stood in the corridor outside.
“How are you this morning?” Lady Carlisle asked, her brow furrowed with uncharacteristic concern. Usually, she didn’t worry about any “moods” or temporary maladies her daughters might have.
But then, Sophie had been very red the night before—not that she could ever tell her mother why that was.
“I’m much better.” She looked down, hoping her cheeks weren’t as pink as they felt. “I’m excited for our outing to Horncastle this morning.”
The women had made plans to travel to the nearest town to enjoy a little shopping while the men hunted. They hadn’t passed through Horncastle on the way to Nunhaven, so she was eager to see what it looked like. She’d heard the markets there were well worth visiting.
“I am too.” Lady Carlisle smiled, apparently accepting Sophie’s word that she’d recovered. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
“I just need to don my shoes.”
Sophie backtracked into her room, where Betsy was waiting with her walking shoes. While they would be taking carriages into Horncastle, she expected that they would still cover a reasonable distance on foot while looking at the shops.
Betsy helped her into her shoes, and then Sophie and her mother headed to the breakfast room. They each filled a plate and were about to sit at an empty table when Sophie spotted the blond woman—Miss Marianne Bloombury—whom Lady Wembley had claimed was enamored with Baron Sylvestor.
If Sophie intended to withdraw from her unofficial courtship with the baron, what better way to start than by making her position clear to another woman who might wish to marry him?
She didn’t want to hurt the baron by rejecting him. He’d treated her well. Perhaps encouraging Miss Bloombury would help them both.
Setting her jaw, she made for the other woman.
“Do you mind if we join you?” she asked, hovering a short distance from the table.
Miss Bloombury blinked owlishly, as if caught off guard, but she motioned to the chairs. “You’re more than welcome.”
“Thank you.” Sophie sat.
Her mother—who had followed her—gave her a look that said she knew Sophie was up to something, but she wasn’t sure what.
“I’m Lady Sophie,” Sophie said, although she was sure Miss Bloombury already knew that. “This is my mother, Lady Carlisle.”
Miss Bloombury nodded deferentially. “I’m Miss Marianne Bloombury. You may call me either Miss Bloombury or Marianne.”
“Marianne,” Sophie repeated. This time, she was the one caught off guard. Inviting such intimacies was uncommon among new acquaintances. Was Marianne just a very open and friendly sort of person, or did she have an ulterior motive? “You have a lovely name.”
Marianne blushed. “Thank you, Lady Sophie.”
Lady Carlisle set her plate down and sat in another of the empty chairs. “I understand you’re Lady Wembley’s niece.”
“Yes, my lady. My mother is her sister.”
“Are you close with your cousins?” Sophie asked, curious. She would have liked to have cousins, but her father’s brother had joined the military and died at war before marrying, and her mother was an only child.
“We were very close when we were young.” Marianne smiled in memory. “We grew apart as we aged, although we still keep in touch.”
“That’s a shame.” Sophie spread butter on a piece of toast. “Did you enjoy the croquet yesterday?”
“Oh, very much.”
They chatted for a while about the prior day’s activities and what was yet to come. When it was time to depart for Horncastle, Marianne invited Sophie and Lady Carlisle to share a carriage with her.
Fortunately, her mother decided to join Lady Wembley instead, so Sophie would have the opportunity to speak privately with Marianne.
She wasn’t sure how to raise the topic of Baron Sylvestor, but once again, luck was in her favor. As soon as they were seated in the carriage, their maids beside them, Marianne took the initiative.
“You must be excited to have two such esteemed gentlemen courting you,” she said quietly, watching Sophie from beneath her lashes.
“I am,” Sophie said cautiously. “Surprised too. I wasn’t so favored last season.”
Marianne exhaled sharply. “That gives me hope. This is my first season, and I….” She glanced around and then lowered her voice so that it was only just audible over the sound of wheels on gravel. “I have my share of attention, but not from the gentleman I wish to court me.”
Sophie winced. “I’m afraid that’s relatively common.”
“But perhaps next season will be better.” Marianne’s smile was slightly forced.
“After all, you’ve secured the affection of both the striking Mr. Blackwell and Baron Sylvestor, who must be the most handsome man I’ve ever met.
The way his whole face lights up when he laughs…
. And he’s so kind. His manners are impeccable, and he dances better than anyone else I’ve encountered. ”
Sophie supposed the baron did dance well, although Nicholas was better, in her opinion.
Marianne’s cheeks colored, and she ducked her head. “Of course, you know all of this, since it is you whom he’s courting.”
Sophie’s chest tightened and her stomach rolled.
Poor Marianne was smitten with Baron Sylvestor, and if Sophie hadn’t persuaded Nicholas to consider marriage, she might never have had a chance with him because of Sophie’s selfishness in wanting his attention when she didn’t truly care for him. Not like Marianne did.
Sophie searched for a way to share her preference for Nicholas, but Kate was the one who was good with words. She tended to be too blunt.
She supposed that the direct approach would have to do.
She sighed. “As you are familiar with the baron because of your connection through Lord Trevor, I must admit a certain fondness for Mr. Blackwell that has developed over time because his brother is married to my closest friend.”
There. It was indelicate, but Marianne couldn’t mistake her meaning.
Marianne’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”
Sophie nodded, afraid to say anything else lest she give too much away. “Have you spent much time with Baron Sylvestor since you came out?”
Marianne scowled, and the expression looked strange on her sweet face. “Only a little. He dances with me if we’re at the same ball, but only because he views me as a younger cousin due to his friendship with Trevor.”
Sophie considered that. “You shouldn’t give up so soon. I never thought Mr. Blackwell would see me as a romantic prospect either.”
Marianne’s scowl faded. “Perhaps I will. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
Through the window, buildings began to come into view. Sophie leaned closer and looked out. Most of the buildings were blocky—designed similarly to Nunhaven Manor—and they were constructed from brick and stone.
They passed a church with a stained glass window facing the road and a small spire above the entrance, then came to a stop outside a milliner’s.
Sophie and Marianne disembarked and wandered inside. The other women gradually joined them, fussing around the display of bonnets and ribbons. There were no hats that Sophie particularly liked but she caught Marianne eyeing a pale pink bonnet with matching ribbon that was fashioned into a rose.
“You should buy it,” she urged, removing it from the display and positioning it on Marianne’s head. “The color looks very pretty on you.”
“Oh, but I shouldn’t.” She glanced around as if expecting someone to materialize and chide her for being frivolous.
“Perhaps it will give you more confidence.” Sophie tilted it so that Marianne could admire it better. “Do you have any gowns that would match?”
Marianne’s face lit up. “I do.”
“In which case, it is practically your duty to buy it.” Sophie flashed her a mischievous grin. “Who knows how long it might be before you find another bonnet that would match your gown so well?”
Marianne giggled and took the bonnet from her. “I’m beginning to think that you’re a bad influence, my lady.”
“Please, call me Sophie.” After all, if Sophie was to call her Marianne, then it wouldn’t do to insist on formality in return.
Marianne made her purchase, and they lingered until everyone had finished, then walked together to the shoemaker next door. The local seamstress’s shop followed, and by then they were all weary, so they retreated to a teahouse.
While the proprietor brought them tea and scones, Lady Carlisle sat beside Sophie and leaned close.
“I’m glad you’ve befriended Miss Bloombury,” she murmured, softly enough not to be overheard by those at the table with them. “I’ve noticed you keeping to yourself while we’ve been here, and that’s unlike you.”
Sophie frowned. She hadn’t realized she was doing that, but she supposed she had spent most of her time with Nicholas, the baron, or her mother. Usually, she would socialize with Kate, but Kate wasn’t here to mingle with her, so she was on her own.
“She seems very sweet,” Sophie replied quietly. “I like her.”
“That’s good, dear.”
They enjoyed scones fresh from the oven and slathered with jam. Sophie also risked her mother’s ire and ordered a piece of shortbread, which practically melted in her mouth.
After their refreshments, they explored Horncastle for a while longer and returned home with an hour to retire and rest before luncheon.
Sophie had gotten rather warm during their visit to town, so she changed into another day dress and swapped out her walking shoes for prettier ones that were suited to remaining indoors.
She settled on her bed, intending to rest for a while, but every time she closed her eyes, she recalled how Nicholas had kissed her so passionately last night. Heat pooled beneath her belly.
He’d touched her as if she were precious. He’d agreed to wed her—something she’d never dared to believe would happen—but what if, in the cool light of day, he’d had second thoughts?
What if he no longer wanted to marry her?
With a groan of frustration, she realized she was never going to be able to nap while worried about how a few hours of sleep might have changed Nicholas’s perspective. Reluctantly, she left the room and searched the drawing rooms first before eventually finding Nicholas in the library.
He was on a sofa, slouched over a sketchbook. There was a gray smudge on his chin and a pencil clasped in his free hand. He glanced up and, seeing her, smiled sheepishly.
“What are you doing?” She asked, padding across the floor toward him.
He angled the sketchbook toward her. “Kate is teaching me how to draw, so I was practicing.”
She halted in front of him and studied the pencil sketch. He’d drawn a stack of books arranged artfully on a desk in front of a window. It wasn’t the most impressive sketch she’d ever seen, but she could tell what it was, and everything looked to be in proportion.
“Very nice.”
He laughed and closed the book. “I’m no artist, but it’s fun, and I need something to fill my days.”
“I know what you mean.” She spent far more time sitting around Carlisle House than she would like. Perhaps after they were married, they could occupy themselves outdoors, riding their horses in the sun and mapping out his family’s estate on foot.
He cocked his head, looking at her curiously. “Are you all right?”
She shifted her weight, suddenly self-conscious about her purpose in coming here. “I just wanted to check and make sure you haven’t changed your mind about anything.”
His expression softened. “I haven’t. Have you been worried?”
Now, it was her turn to feel sheepish. “Maybe a little.”
He patted the cushion beside him. “Come here.”
She went to him and sat.
He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I won’t change my mind about you.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she whispered, emotion swelling in her chest.
He swore under his breath and then pulled her close, completely ignoring propriety and sitting her on his lap. His arms looped around her waist, and she rested her head against his, reveling in his affection. She loved how open he was. He was not a man afraid of emotion.
In her world, that was something special.
She looked around to make sure that no one was there and strained her ears for footsteps in the hall outside. When she heard and saw nothing, she pecked his lips, squeezed him tight, and then clambered off him.
“We’d better not take unnecessary risks.” She didn’t want to stay away from him, but it was more important that they protect his relationship with his mother by avoiding scandal. In that vein, she ought to leave before they were caught alone. “Will I see you later?”
He grinned. “You can count on it.”
Hot and melty inside, she gave him a little wave that would have made her feel silly under different circumstances and practically glided out of the library.
In the corridor, she almost walked straight into Lady Somerset, who was hurrying in the opposite direction.
“Where did you come from?” Lady Somerset demanded, her face scrunched in a way that suggested she took personal offence at Sophie’s mere existence.
“I was in the library,” Sophie said, hoping she didn’t look as guilty as she felt.
Lady Somerset grimaced. “I see no reason to spend time in such a stuffy place as that.”
Sophie shrugged. “What can I say? I am a bit of a bluestocking.”
Lady Somerset’s gaze darted toward the library door, a hint of intrigue in her eyes. “Unless something other than books has your attention in there?”
At that moment, several gentlemen appeared in the corridor, returning from their hunt.
Sophie had never been more grateful for an interruption in her life.