To Sophia’s relief she slept the night through, and the next morning she was able to put weight on her ankle without the blinding pain of the day before. There was still some discomfort, however, but she was able to have breakfast with the rest of the household without needing to be transported there by one of the footmen.
She did allow Greaves, who was replenishing the tea and coffee service at table, to bring her a plate of toast and eggs. It was customary for residents of the house to serve themselves at breakfast, but she was a favorite with the butler, and he made sure she was settled.
“Thank you, Mr. Greaves,” she told him with a smile. “You’re too good to me.”
The older man, so proper most of the time, gave one of his rare smiles. “Of course, Miss Hastings.”
Then he hurried from the room.
“If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it,” Lord Kerr said with a grin from his place beside Ivy. “You’ve wrapped poor Greaves ‘round your finger. I can’t be sure but I think he was blushing.”
“Hush, Quill,” Ivy chided. “Sophia is just being herself. She cannot help it if the majority of the male population succumbs to her pretty face.”
“You’re hardly an antidote,” Sophia told her friend with a laugh. “In fact, I’d say as a whole we’re not a bad looking group.”
“Intermarriage within the aristocracy leads to exaggerated features on most of the offspring in the ton,” Daphne said as she spread marmalade on her toast. “Statistically, Kerr, Maitland, Serena and myself should be frightful looking. Fortunately, we’ve all managed to turn out rather attractively. It’s a wonder, really.”
“I, for one, am relieved to have escaped the overlarge ears and weak chin of my fellow aristocrats,” said her husband, the Duke of Maitland, raising his teacup with a flourish. “Else Daphne might never have set her cap at me.
“I did no such thing,” his wife responded without rancor. “I simply noted that you were a handsome man and acted accordingly.”
“Yes,” Gemma intervened before Daphne could expound on the subject, “and we all know the outcome.”
“We do, indeed,” Ivy agreed with a grin. “Now, speaking of good-looking aristocrats, I couldn’t help but notice that our vicar paid not one but two calls on our Sophia yesterday. I know he takes his duties as minister seriously, but that seems a bit overly conscientious to me. What say, you, Sophia? Has our vicar fallen prey to your winsome ways?”
This sort of teasing was de riguer for their group, so Sophia didn’t take offense at her friend’s words. Though she had hoped that no one would notice Ben’s second appearance at Beauchamp House yesterday.
Even so, she had to tell them about Morgan’s threat to have her paintings taken out of the exhibition at some point.
Quickly she told them the reasons for Ben and Lord Frederick’s visit, including the presence in the village of an art forger.
When she’d finished, her friends were gratifyingly angered on her behalf.
“I wish we’d declined the invitation to that man’s ball,” Ivy said fiercely. “He has rubbed me the wrong way since he first arrived in Little Seaford, and now I am convinced he’s the worst sort of hypocrite. His kind always has a fancy woman in town while he condemns the rest of the world for their perfidy.”
“What can we do?” Daphne asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. “Shall the duke and I pay a call on him and let him know he’s crossed a line? I have no fears about playing the outraged duchess for a good cause. Just say the word.”
“Alternatively,” Kerr said thoughtfully, “Maitland and I could go alone. Talk to him man to man. His type enjoys bullying women, but rarely stands up to other men. Indeed, it would be quite pleasant, I think, to put the man in his place. He’s swept into the village as if he owned it and seems to think everyone else should accept his leadership. Last I heard, the village has a competent mayor in Mr. Givens.”
But the idea of any of them approaching Morgan and possibly riling him further made Sophia nervous.
Morgan, like most men of his station, found it galling enough that he’d worked—or rather, his factory workers had—for his every penny when aristocrats simply inherited their wealth through the good fortune of birth. Maitland and Kerr were not as snobbish as some others of their class, but they did possess that certain bred-in-the-bone sense of authority that Sophia sensed would anger Morgan. He was both jealous of them and resentful.
“I do appreciate your championship,” she told the cousins. “Indeed, I am grateful for all of you. So much. But I believe this is a matter that requires an appeal to a higher authority.”
Gemma blinked. “Lord Benedick is going to pray for you?”
Sophia laughed. “I imagine he will, as vicar, but I was talking about someone else. A higher artistic authority. The chairman of the Little Seaford Art Exhibition, Mr. Primble.”
“Oh, excellent,” Maitland said with a grin. “For all of his eccentricities, Primble isn’t a man to stand for interference in his art business. I once saw him deliver a withering set down to Mrs. Northman, the Squire’s wife, when she attempted to give one of the artists in the Primrose Green colony some suggestions for how he should frame his painting. I don’t think a Beau Brummell at the height of his influence could have been more cutting.”
“I hope it won’t come to that,” Sophia said with a slight shudder. Mr. Primble could indeed be sharp, and that might be just as counterproductive with Morgan as being approached by Maitland and Kerr would be. “Instead, I believe Lord Benedick and I will be able to persuade Mr. Primble to simply ignore Morgan’s request. He is, after all, the chairman of the exhibition committee. And he has an appreciation for art that challenges.”
Just then Mr. Greaves returned with the news that Ben and his brother Lord Frederick Lisle had called. “I have put them in the drawing room, Miss Hastings. I took the liberty of sending your maid for your hat and cloak.”
Ignoring the grins of the rest of the table, Sophia thanked him, and when the butler was gone, stood with the help of her walking stick. “Now, if I’ve amused you enough this morning, I’ll just be off to pay a call at Primrose Green.”
“Good luck,” said Ivy as Sophia made her way to the door. “And be sure to bring Lord Benedick and his brother for luncheon. I have a feeling this visit will leave you needing sustenance.”