Chapter 21
Sophia sat in the drawing room after the evening meal and tried not to be obvious as she looked repeatedly at Beatrice and Charity, who sat with their mother.
Mrs. Denney spoke gently to her daughters; Beatrice’s eyes had glazed over and Charity’s mouth was set in a determined line that Sophia figured could only bode trouble.
Sophia and Rachael had pulled aside Major Stuart before dinner and told him of Charity’s concerns and of the prince-presumptive’s interest in the elder Denney sister.
He had listened intently and given a definitive nod when they asked if he would please keep them informed should he discover anything.
The entire situation concerned Sophia. Charity looked as combustible as a powder keg, and Sophia felt sympathetic affection for the young girl.
She might have to petition Jack to provide refuge for not only young Charlie in the future, but the younger Miss Denney, as well.
She felt her brow creasing in a frown and wondered if she’d done little else since her arrival but scowl at everything.
India was fraught with intrigue, it seemed.
Music from the corner of the room lifted on wings and soared beautifully into flight.
Lady Lissa not only played the pianoforte, but sang as well.
And why should she not? Lissa executed both skills exquisitely, of course, to the clear delight of her beaming mother and a wary Lady Pilkington.
For all that her sponsor was obsequious, she didn’t seem to have forgotten Lissa’s cutting remarks upon arrival, though the Resident’s wife was not about to alienate family of a peer of the realm.
The whole thing was but one more irritant in Sophia’s slipper, and her scowl deepened.
“Of course she sings and plays beautifully,” Sophia said glumly to Rachael, who sat next to her on the settee.
“Her ability to play and sing or not play and sing should signify nothing to you at all.” Rachael glanced at Sophia.
“I do not trust her as far as I can throw her.”
“You are fairly strong, you know.”
Sophia glared at Rachael, who put an arm about her shoulders. “You’ve nothing in the world to worry about, Sophia. This business will be over soon, and you shall go home with the man you love. You shall live the life you’ve been waiting for.”
Sophia smiled. “Is life ever simple, Rachael?”
Rachael chuckled. “Where would be the fun in that, sweet friend? Simple is boring and dreary, and boring and dreary we are not.”
Sophia’s smile widened into a grin. “Let’s try it, you and I. Let’s be boring and dreary and ordinary. We can rusticate at one of my family’s country estates and while away the time picking flowers and playing with our nieces.”
Rachael shook her head. “You would be fit to be tied in less than two weeks. Perhaps one. As would I, truthfully. Besides, do you not have a school to oversee?”
Sophia nodded and pursed her lips, wistful. “I do miss it. I wonder how they fare.”
“I suspect you will be ready to return when the time comes.”
“We have been here barely outside a week. Should we not still be in the throes of grand adventure?”
“We have been on this grand adventure for much longer than just a week,” Rachael said drily. “Or have you already forgotten the voyage itself?”
Sophia grimaced. “And to think we had the good of it. I hear some stories and feel we were positively pampered.”
“I should say so. I spoke yesterday with Miss Jane Sla—” Rachael was interrupted by a throaty laugh that came from the music corner.
Lady Lissa was looking at Anthony, who had entered the room near the pianoforte, which was unfortunate. His gaze traveled the room until he found Sophia, and there it stopped. He smiled slowly, and she sucked in her breath.
“He has got to stop doing that if he wants to keep anyone from suspecting he has feelings for you,” Rachael muttered. “Therein lies the problem. I’m not certain he cares one way or the other anymore about keeping it secret.”
Sophia elbowed her in the ribs. “Do be quiet.”
“He was fine to break your heart when his concern was keeping you safe, but now that he seems to have thrown caution to the wind—”
“Rachael.” Sophia turned to her, prepared to lecture her friend on the wisdom of not lecturing friends when she saw Rachael’s smile.
“Which is why I have devised a plan for you to sit next to him for at least thirty minutes.” Rachael stood and pulled Sophia up with her.
“Lord Wilshire, you must join us,” she said as Anthony reached them.
“We are bound for the library where I understand there is a fast-moving game of whist at play.”
Anthony’s lips twitched. “A fast-moving game of whist? That truly must be a sight.”
“Come, come,” she said, taking one of his arms and leaving the other for Sophia. “Dylan is there already, and I promised not to keep him waiting long.”
“And here I had assumed the two of you dallied for the music.”
Sophia pinched the back of his arm as they exited into the hallway, and he pulled it away from her with an incredulous laugh and a look of remonstration she was certain he intended to be gruff but fell well short of the mark.
She raised a brow at him in admonition, and he chuckled at her.
When they were safely away from prying eyes, he winked at her.
There were a few groups of people already in the library when they arrived. Several officers from the military compound played vingt-et-un at another table and a few Fleet ladies filled the room with the comfortable, quiet hum of conversation.
The game of whist was, of course, not fast moving at all. In fact there hadn’t been one in play until they reached the library and Rachael pulled Major Stuart away from his conversation with Lord Pilkington to begin one.
Clergyman Denney immediately took Stuart’s place across from Lord Pilkington. If Pilkington’s expression was any indicator, the conversation had begun with the evils of drink.
“Poor Pilkington,” Anthony murmured to Sophia as she took her seat at a game table and patted the chair next to hers. “Though perhaps he is secretly relieved we have diverted Stuart’s attention. I do believe the major is tightening the screws.”
Sophia knit her brow. “Does he suspect Lord Pilkington of something nefarious?”
Anthony shook his head. “We are spinning our wheels, as it were. I believe he is as frustrated as I. We keep thinking that if we manage to overturn the correct stone we will discover something useful.”
Rachael quickly took the seat across from Sophia, declaring, “Sophia and I must be partners, for you and I always lose, Dylan.”
He cocked a brow at her but took his seat by her side. “I suppose that pairs us, old boy,” he said to Anthony.
“We are not truly invested in this game,” Rachael whispered.
“You don’t say.” Dylan glanced at Anthony, who slid his chair closer to Sophia’s.
Sophia glanced about the room, and more importantly at the faces who were decidedly not looking in their direction, and leaned a few delicious inches closer to Anthony. He glanced at her from the side, his lips twitching in a smile. He angled his shoulder so it brushed against hers.
“That will be enough of that.” Dylan snapped the cards together and whispered to Anthony, his brows drawn close. “You will never convince anyone you don’t care for her if you don’t maintain some distance. Are you a lad fresh from Eton, Wilshire?”
Anthony cocked a brow at Dylan and smirked. Sophia regarded her would-be protector with a bright smile. “Come now, Major Stuart. Surely you’re acquainted with the heady rush of new love?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I do remember, and therein lies the problem.” He glanced left and right, and then leaned forward. “I must add it is a sad state of affairs when I, of all people, must act as chaperone.”
Rachael sighed and nudged her cousin. “You have become rather a stuffy old fellow, darling.”
“And what about after you’re married?” Dylan persisted. “You should know how gauche it is to be demonstrative with one’s spouse in public. I suggest you rein it in now, my friend.”
Sophia turned a pout on Anthony. “So such will be the case with us, then?”
“I never have claimed to be de rigueur.” He grinned. “In fact, I do tend to fly in the face of convention.”
Sophia laughed, but then spied Amala Ayah at the door to the library, her face a mask of terror. The nanny motioned desperately to her, and Sophia stood so quickly she knocked her chair askew. Anthony grabbed it to keep it from crashing to the ground.
Sophia ran to the door, heedless of the starts of surprise from others in the room, and pulled Amala into the hall. “What’s happened?”
“Miss Sophia, Charlie is missing!”
Sophia barely caught Amala as she crumbled, her face pale and her breathing shallow. The woman’s eyes rolled back in her head, and Sophia lowered her awkwardly to the floor. She glanced up as Anthony, Dylan, and Rachael appeared in the doorway.
“She must have run all the way down here,” Sophia said quietly, desperately trying to still the furious pounding of her heart. “Anthony, help me elevate her feet.”
Anthony grabbed a stool that sat just inside the library door and placed Amala’s feet on it. “Did she say anything?” His voice was low, tense.
“Charlie is missing.” Sophia fought back a wave of nausea and put her hand over her mouth, taking a few shallow breaths through her nose.
“Here, now, what’s this?” Pilkington entered the hallway, and a few curious faces peeked from behind his shoulder.
“Your nanny, my lord. She has distressing news, I fear.” She looked down at Amala, wanting the woman to come to and give her more details.
“We must take her back upstairs,” Pilkington said.
“My lord, if I may?” Rachael stepped around Pilkington, sank down next to Sophia, and reached into her pocket. “I have salts.” She produced them and waved the small packet beneath Amala’s nose.