Chapter 5

Sophia forced herself to relax her grip on the dessert spoon. She’d suffered through dinner making inane conversation with several of the people surrounding her. She longed for the days when she and Anthony would have debriefed afterward in Jack and Ivy’s library over a hand of cards. They would have compared notes, made predictions, assessed people. Sophia would tell him about the young lady fresh from the country who had quietly admitted that her family despaired of her ever turning a gentleman’s head, much less making a suitable match. And at the next ball, Anthony would confirm the young woman’s identity with Sophia, would show an interest in the painfully shy girl, and ask her to dance. Other young men in the room would take note, would wonder what they’d missed that the dashing Earl of Wilshire clearly saw—he was known to have exacting taste in women, after all—and the awkward young debutante would suddenly find her dance card full.

It had happened on multiple occasions, and Sophia had continually been in awe of the power Anthony wielded that could turn the tide of a person’s future. The first time he subtly maneuvered events to spark interest, to plant favorable impressions, or to improve the odds, Sophia had fallen a bit in love with him. And with each successive “rescue,” she slipped a little bit more in love until she found so many things about his character to adore that she couldn’t count them all.

And then he had left Town, said that he was restless and needed to take up again with people from his past. It hadn’t made sense to her then and it still didn’t. Something was amiss, and she wondered yet again what had caused Anthony to throw their whole world into disarray the way one might overturn a chessboard.

Somewhere in the course of seating her guests, Lady Pilkington had taken liberties with social status because Mr. Gerald, a professor at the newly founded English university in Bombay, was seated across from Sophia despite his lower rank. He conversed easily with a matron, Lady Finch, on his right and Rachael Scarsdale on his left. He had engaged Sophia’s attention politely throughout the course of the meal and seemed pleasant. He was the son of an Indian mother and a British father, a tea planter who had made his fortune providing England’s drawing rooms with delightful oolong. The handsome professor had a thick head of black hair and deep blue eyes. Why couldn’t she fall in love with someone like him? She highly doubted he would ever form a close and tender attachment with a woman and then bolt for the Continent.

“Mr. Gerald,” she asked during a lull in conversation as the guests enjoyed dessert, “what works of literature do you most enjoy teaching?”

“Hmm,” the professor replied as he finished chewing. “I suppose I favor Shakespeare’s comedies, but I confess a scandalous preference for Chaucer.”

Lady Finch gasped.

Mr. Gerald placed a supplicating hand over his heart. “My apologies, of course.” He did not look at all apologetic. “But when one spends one’s energy in dusty tomes day after day, one must search for spots of delight, yes?” His smile eventually won the woman over, and she shook a finger at him in remonstration that was clearly all for show.

“Only because your manners are beyond reproach, professor, do I forgive you for discussing such shocking reading preferences.”

“Have you read Chaucer, my lady?”

Her eyes widened. “Certainly not!”

“But you are familiar with the content?”

“Well,” the older woman hedged, “my late husband, Lord Finch, spoke of reading The Canterbury Tales at school, and he emphatically stated it is material unfit for a lady’s gentler sensibilities.”

Sophia poked at her dessert and refrained from comment. Her father had died when she had been an infant and Jack had gone to sea shortly afterward. Her mother had worked as a seamstress all hours of the day and most of the night but she had taught Sophia the basics of reading before leaving her to her own devices. Without a consistent male figure in her life to dictate what she could and couldn’t read or do, Sophia read everything she could find, whether from a lending library or discard piles at local charities.

There were times Sophia felt the need to defend a woman’s right to learn. And then there were times when she hadn’t the energy. If she weren’t feeling so emotionally drained from not acknowledging the imposing physical presence of the man seated to her right, she might have taken a small amount of delight in suggesting she would be happy to offer a summary of Chaucer’s finest. Since Lady Finch hadn’t read him, of course.

“I detect a glimmer of something, Miss Elliot,” Professor Gerald said, and she heard the smile in his voice.

She looked up from her dessert, realizing her mouth was turned in the ghost of a smile so something of her thoughts must have been visible on her face.

“Perhaps you are a woman who has read extensively of fine English literature?” Mr. Gerald held up a palm. “And please, do not suppose I suggest it to cause embarrassment. My sisters who live in England read and write exhaustively. I believe current education opportunities for females are sadly lacking.”

She heard Anthony mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, “Of course you do.”

Sophia raised a brow and smiled at the professor. “I daresay that is the most refreshing thing I’ve heard all day. My ­sister-in-law, Lady Stansworth, and I own and operate a school for indigent females. We train them to be ladies’ maids and governesses, and we are working to expand the teaching curriculum to include more extensive mathematics and sciences.”

Lady Finch made a sound of censure under her breath.

“We find our ambitions opposed from certain corners, of course.” Sophia smiled.

The professor’s lips twitched, but he remained admirably diplomatic. “And yet the fight must continue. I laud your efforts.” He tipped his head to her in salute.

Sophia also inclined her head. The movement to her right was subtle, but she sensed Anthony leaning infinitesimally closer to her side. She felt the warmth of his arm as his sleeve brushed against her.

“The school is indeed a godsend for many young women,” Anthony said. “I look forward to witnessing its growth upon my return to London.”

Sophia turned to Anthony, her eyes widening slightly. “You do intend to return, my lord? Well, this is news indeed!”

Anthony’s nostrils flared slightly, and someone who hadn’t spent such copious amounts of time studying his face might have missed the subtle expression. “Of course it was always my intention to return, my lady.”

“Yes. To accept the duties and responsibilities of your title.”

“Quite so.”

“How long will you be staying in India, then?”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “Are you hoping I’ll leave soon, or hoping I’ll remain longer?”

She shrugged. “Oh, I haven’t a preference one way or the other. But your absence from the House of Lords has been noted. And I’m certain your steward wonders if responsibility for your estates and tenants will be his into the eternities.”

Anthony leaned an elbow on the table and turned fully to her. “I have kept in constant contact with my steward, and he is well aware of my imminent return.”

Lady Finch tutted from across the table. “Young lady, you presume to lecture his lordship, as though you have a right to do so? Perhaps you misunderstand your role in society.”

“Oh, it is no impertinence on my part, I assure you! Lord Wilshire and I are the dearest of friends, you see. He is rather like my own brother. We are truly family.”

Sophia thought she heard Anthony grinding his teeth, but she wasn’t certain.

“Oh, is that so?” Professor Gerald looked from Sophia to Anthony and back again. “Well, what a delightful association! I know I find great joy in my friendship with my sisters. There is something special about a bond between siblings. Isn’t it interesting that such bonds are not always defined by blood?”

“Fascinating.” Anthony regarded the man, unsmiling, and Sophia realized Lord Wilshire had dropped any pretense of charm or finesse.

Sophia tilted her head and took in the nonverbal aggression of Anthony’s posture; his body was still turned fully toward her and their chairs were completely flush. She laid her fingers on Anthony’s arm and turned to Mr. Gerald. “I know I count myself as the most fortunate of women to have two such wonderful brothers to look after my interests. And if that relationship lends itself to familiarity on my part with Lord Wilshire, well, he appreciates my counsel on his duties as the steward of one of England’s oldest earldoms.” She patted Anthony’s arm. “Is that not right, dear friend?”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed fractionally. She felt a thrill course through her limbs and caught her breath. He was irritated. Well, let him be. He had made this friendship bed, and now he could lie down in it.

“I heed your counsel above all others, Miss Sophia.” He smiled but it looked grim. “And without a doubt, I have been away from London far too long.”