Chapter 18
Sophia couldn’t get off of the elephant quickly enough.
Once her feet hit solid ground, she left Anthony without a backward glance and dashed along the side of the dusty road, looking in each carriage for Rachael.
She finally found her descending from the second vehicle in the long line, glaring at her cousin.
Rachael stepped onto the ground, and Sophia flew at her.
“I am livid,” she said, as she linked arms with Rachael and pulled her toward the doors of the social club.
“I do not believe I have ever been angrier. I have much to tell you, but later. First, I must think. And that one,” she said, motioning her head behind them at Major Stuart, “thinks to make us go home immediately.”
“I am aware of his plan,” Rachael told her, grim.
“I am not going home yet.”
“Nor I.”
They eyed each other for a moment and then nodded.
They approached the front of the building, which resembled a large bungalow, not as large as the Residency mansion, but still impressive in size and structure.
Once inside, Sophia noted a mixture of traditional British and Indian décor, with a few hunting trophies stuffed and posed ferociously in the corners.
One large social room fed into two additional chambers, one of which was used as a drawing room for card games while the other was a ballroom that led out onto an enormous verandah that swept around the building on two sides.
Music played in the ballroom, glasses clinked as guests enjoyed champagne, and conversation floated on the air punctuated with feminine laughter and the chortle of male amusement.
Sophia scowled, her mood foul. “Just as any other gathering at home.”
Rachael nodded. “Of course it is. East India Company has merely recreated what everybody left behind. If they miss England so much, perhaps they should return.”
“Hear, hear.” Sophia put a hand on her hip and tried to assemble her swirling thoughts.
Anthony was truly stupid if he thought for one moment she would believe his ridiculous tale.
She needed time to think, and she certainly couldn’t do it while near him.
She glanced over her shoulder and spied his dark, handsome, infuriating head as he ascended the front stairs with Major Stuart.
She wondered if Anthony had tried to pass his lies off onto him.
“I shall be in the ballroom,” she told Rachael.
“You’ll find me dancing with all and sundry.
” And in truth, she wasn’t more than two feet into the ballroom when she found herself besieged by tea planters, indigo plantation owners, three military men, and a clerk from a local countinghouse.
It never hurt a girl to have options, and she was afraid if she couldn’t hang on to her righteous anger and indignation, she would dissolve into a puddle of pathetic tears.
She was in the middle of a quadrille with the clerk when she spied Anthony standing near the wall in conversation with Major Stuart.
She turned her head smartly when Anthony looked at her, and, as she came around again, she focused on Major Stuart instead.
Perhaps she could fall in love with him.
He likely didn’t suffer from compulsive lying or womanizing.
In fact, he was single, smart, had a good career, provided a comfortable living for himself, and perhaps he might be interested in her dowry. It was a good enough beginning.
She made every effort to keep her attention from drifting back to the dark-haired earl at Major Stuart’s side when a fluff of pink tulle in that direction pulled her eyes to him anyway. Lissa Seadon had found him and smiled up at him as though he were a breakfast pastry.
Sophia rolled her eyes and huffed a noise of disgust before she realized she was hand-to-hand again with her partner, the poor clerk who probably wondered what he might have done to earn her disdain.
She forced herself to smile at the man, truly repentant when he stammered his hopes that she was enjoying her evening before the steps of the dance took her away from him again.
The set seemed interminably long; she felt as though she would keep spinning in the same monotonous circles for eternity, each full spin bringing Anthony and that wretched, clinging woman into her vision again.
The quadrille eventually came to its end, and she curtseyed to her baffled partner, who likely was reconsidering furthering an association with her.
Strains of a waltz began next, and couples flooded to the floor in delight.
Anthony was saying something to Lissa Vale, and Sophia felt her nostrils flare.
Perhaps he was trying to convince the young woman he was an international man of espionage.
And what would Lissa care? All she wanted was his title and money.
“By some miracle sent from heaven, are you unclaimed for this dance, Miss Elliot?” Professor Gerald stood at her elbow, and she turned to him with a smile.
“I am indeed unclaimed.”
He bowed very nicely and led her back to the floor.
They settled into a comfortable rhythm. He was smooth on his feet and sure in his movements.
She smiled at him and cast about for a conversation opener.
She could always remark on the weather, or the differences in climate between India and England.
“He looks at you constantly, you know.”
She blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Wilshire. I am an observant study of character, and when you are in the room, he has eyes only for you.”
She shook her head and looked at a spot beyond his shoulder as he spun her effortlessly around the room. “Mr. Gerald, you are entirely too sympathetic. I fear you will have me in tears when I should much rather remain indifferent.”
He smiled and she looked at him. He really was rather handsome with those haunting blue eyes fringed by thick black lashes, black hair, and olive-toned skin.
What was wrong with her? She didn’t feel anything special when she looked at him, even with one hand holding hers and his other at her waist. His firm shoulder beneath her hand told her he had no need to fill out his suit coat with padding.
Should things progress between the professor and Rachael, her friend would be a fortunate woman indeed.
Physical attributes aside, he was a good man.
“You have a past with him, of course?”
She sighed. “We were close once. I had assumed more than I should. Then he left England and I was quite bereft. I do not desire to return to that emotional place.” She smiled. “So now you know my secrets, and I apologize for pouring them out onto you.”
“Not at all. I asked. I consider myself your new friend, and I believe you could certainly do worse than encourage the earl.”
She laughed.
“He is a good man.”
Her laughter faded, and she tried to hold on to her smile. “I believe he is. But I also believe he will never be content with the company of just one . . .” She flushed. It was beyond the pale to even broach such an indelicate subject with a gentleman.
“Just one woman?” he finished gently.
She nodded miserably, feeling a sting in her eyes, the prelude to a torrent of tears if she couldn’t hold herself together.
“And what would lead you to assume such a thing?”
She blinked, incredulous. “His reputation has followed him even here, to India. He is a rake. A scoundrel. He is seen constantly with opera divas and women who tread the boards.”
One corner of his mouth shifted in a smile. “Miss Elliot, you ought not believe everything you hear. One thing I have learned as a person of two races and cultures—and neither one truly knowing what to do with me—people say all manner of things when they do not understand the truth.”
She frowned. “But it is such common knowledge—”
“You said you were close. Was his behavior suspect then? The least bit worrying?”
Her brows drew together. “No. I never could . . .” She paused. “I never could reconcile the rumors with what I knew to be true of the man.”
“Might I suggest you follow your own instincts in the matter?”
She laughed, but it sounded hollow even to her ears. “I no longer trust my instincts. They are all befuddled.”
The waltz came to a close, and they slowed their movements.
“Well,” he said, “I shall leave you to puzzle it through. I will say, however, when I find myself confused, I try to focus on only the matter before me and block out all other noise. And there will always be a plentiful amount of exterior noise.”
He smiled and bowed. She dipped into a curtsey, perplexed, and watched his back as he disappeared into the crowd. A hand on her elbow pulled her attention away, and she looked over her shoulder to see Anthony’s glowering face.
“Would you like me to offer felicitations now?” he asked. “I suppose he is someone you might find tolerable enough to marry?”