“Lady Julia! What a lovely surprise.” Sophie rushed to greet her unexpected guest, glad that the drawing room was clean and tidy at least, if a little shabby. What in the world would Evan’s sister be doing here, out of the blue? She’d mentioned no intention to visit when they had parted after the opera.
Standing amid the slightly outdated furniture, she looked fashionable and lovely in her smart green-and-white afternoon dress. Still, unless Sophie was very mistaken—and she could have been—the woman’s eyes held a hint of worry. Tiny wrinkles marred her normally smooth forehead as she offered a small smile. “I hope it is a welcome one. I don’t want to impose.”
“Yes, of course! You are always welcome. I only just returned from Miss Bradford’s, so I hope you will forgive my appearance.” As usual, Sophie’s curls were a riotous mess, piled on her head and stabbed through with a dozen pins, not that they helped control the unruly strands. She’d yet to change from her morning gown, and she hadn’t even put away her oboe.
“You look perfectly respectable to me,” Julia replied, gracefully lowering herself onto the chair Sophie had offered with a wave of her hand.
Sophie lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. “Leave your spectacles at home, did you?”
This time, a bit of the visible strain seemed to lessen as her guest chuckled. “I only need them to read, I assure you.”
Sophie laughed at her quick wit. “If you say so, then who am I to argue?” Taking a seat on the sofa, she couldn’t help but wonder again what had brought about this visit. As much as they truly seemed to be getting along, Evan’s sister didn’t seem the type to simply drop in unannounced. Scooting forward a bit on the cushions, Sophie decided to come right out and ask. “Do tell me, my lady: To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today? Eager to discuss the opera, perhaps?”
“First of all, please do call me Julia. Second of all, I need to beg a favor.”
Sophie blinked, taken aback. “A favor?” What on earth did Sophie have to offer the sister of an earl?
“Indeed. I may have told a little white lie to my brother earlier today when he wished for an old family friend to join us for dinner. I like the gentleman well enough, but as far as I’m concerned, I am here to get away from home, not to dine with the same people we do in Ledbury.”
“And the lie?” Sophie asked, properly intrigued.
“I told him that I had accepted an invitation to dine with you this evening. Terribly, terribly presumptuous,” she rushed to say, “but that should speak to my level of desperation at that moment. Please forgive me. I am not accustomed to having friends, Miss Wembley, and I do hope that I have not overstepped the bounds.”
Not accustomed to having friends? What an odd thing to say. Sophie knew that Julia had tended to stay close to home, but that would be all the more reason to have a handful of friends nearby. “Sophie. And you did not overstep a thing. Mama will be delighted to have you join us.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Truly, you may regret your decision once she has your undivided attention.”
Julia closed her eyes briefly, letting out a quiet breath. “Thank you, Sophie. You are a lifesaver.”
“One does what one can. Let me go tell my mother about our plans for this evening, and then we can chat.”
“Actually, I was also hoping you could play your oboe for me.”
Sophie paused, a little surprised. “Truly? Not many people like to hear it by itself.”
“I’d love to. You have heard me play my harp, after all. Evan tells me that you are quite a talented musician, and I find I’d like to hear you play without any other distractions. It is, after all, an instrument that is impossible to be dour, no?”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “You heard that?” Good heavens, she had thought her conversation with Evan quite private at the time. What else had Julia heard?
Nodding, Julia gave her a commiserative smile. “I know the experience wasn’t enthralling for you since you are so accustomed to listening to performances. Don’t worry—you didn’t bother me in the least. I only caught that bit in a lull in the music.”
Disturbing the woman wasn’t at all what Sophie was worried about, and she most definitely had not been bored by the performance, but she quickly grasped onto the explanation. “Well, I’m sorry I disturbed you at all. And yes,” she said, rushing on, “the oboe is the happiest instrument I know. Some may say the flute is more so, but they are terribly uninformed, and besides, the flute will cause dreadful wrinkles, what with all that puckering.” Stop babbling, she chided herself. She always chattered when she was nervous, and discovering that Julia had heard even a small portion of Sophie’s whispered conversation with Evan was certainly nerve-racking.
“Does one not pucker with the oboe?”
Good—familiar ground. She shook her head with more enthusiasm than was warranted. “No, the lips are squeezed together very firmly to form an airtight seal. The double reed is quite tricky, and it can be a lot of effort to get the sound just right, so we oboists tend to have exceedingly strong lips.”
Julia’s jaw dropped open for the space of a second before she slapped a gloved hand over her mouth. Even that wasn’t enough to stifle her laughter. Her shoulders quaked as she shook her head, her eyes pressed closed. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped when she could speak. Her eyes sparkled gaily, an improvement over her hesitancy when she arrived. “That was quite possibly the oddest thing I have ever heard.”
Sophie flushed. “Oh, please, you must forgive me. I do tend to say things as they pop in my head. My mother is forever scolding me for not thinking before I open my mouth, and I must agree it happens more often than not.” As many times as she had ended up with her foot in her mouth, one would think she would have learned her lesson.
Julia waved away her explanation with a sweep of her hand. “Think nothing of it. I would much rather know what a person is really thinking. As you could probably tell from our first encounter, I don’t tend to mince words.”
Sophie gave a teasing, overly dramatic cringe. “Yes, I noticed. Which makes it all the more sweet that you would trust me with your secret now. Although, given my propensity to talk, that may not have been the most prudent choice you’ve ever made.”
Laughing, Julia nodded. “I’m realizing that. Even so, I’m glad I came.”
“So am I. Though I do hope you feel the same way once you hear me play. The oboe does tend to work best with others.”
“Does it? Does that mean that you don’t generally play alone?”
“I don’t. Until my older sister married last month, my mother insisted we play together, despite the distinct lack of suitable duets for an oboe and bassoon.” She shook her head, glad for the end of those concerts. She loved her sister dearly, but Sarah wasn’t the most accomplished musician in the world.
“A very interesting combination, I imagine.”
“Yes, but not nearly so much as the trio I play with now.” A smile came to Sophie’s lips just thinking about the spontaneous moment in which they’d assembled their musical group, all for the purpose of besting the ill-tempered festival clerk who thought to thwart them last month. “May—Miss Bradford—plays the Chinese zither, and our friend Miss Effington is an accomplished pianoforte player and composer. Together we could be described either as ‘delightfully unique’ or ‘dreadfully unusual,’ depending on how you feel about exotic music.”
Julia’s expression teetered between intrigued and confused. “I’m finding it quite impossible to imagine those three instruments engaged in anything that would approach harmony.”
“I’m not surprised. We ourselves didn’t even know before we committed to play at one of the Tuesday night musicales. Thank heavens it all worked out.” And even if there had been a different outcome, it still would have been worth it simply to have gained such wonderful friends.
“Are you to play again soon? I should love to have the opportunity to hear for myself. I even promise to use words like interesting and unique in place of terrifying and bizarre.”
Sophie laughed. “How very thoughtful of you. As a matter of fact, we’ll be playing on Monday for Mr. Wright’s little soiree. Perhaps I can see if we can convince him to invite you.”
“I’d say I wouldn’t wish to impose, but in this case I most certainly would. Are you certain you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I don’t know the vicar terribly well, but he does seem quite the affable fellow. I doubt he’d balk at the presence of a lady like yourself.”
“I’ve met Mr. Wright, actually. He was great fun to dance with. I’ve never laughed so much with a man of the cloth in my life.”
Sophie bit her lip, a thought occurring to her. “I suppose I should suggest an invitation for your brother as well. To keep the numbers even, of course.” Excitement bubbled up within her—how very perfect! She loved the idea of Evan’s hearing her play in an ensemble that was actually good. He’d said he’d heard her play, but that was during the Season at one of her duets with Sarah—hardly the most impressive performance.
Julia raised her shoulders. “If you like. I’m sure he would enjoy hearing your trio, and he’s already acquainted with Mr. Wright.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll send the vicar a note first thing in the morning.”
Thank heavens—the clock was ticking, and the more time she could spend with the earl, the better chance she had of properly wooing the man. She almost laughed. By the time all was said and done, Evan would either be in love with her . . . or wish never to see her again.
* * *
“How was your little get-together?”
Poor Julia jumped half a foot at the sound of Evan’s voice. He hadn’t meant to startle her, but she must not have seen him as she walked past the library door. At a few minutes after nine, the waning daylight was still bright enough to read by, so Evan had yet to light any candles.
Backing up a few steps, she peered in and smiled. “Lovely. And yours?”
Evan shrugged and set aside his book. “Uneventful but pleasant. Young Harry has grown up to be a fine man. He’ll do very well, filling his father’s shoes.”
His sister shook her head, amusement lifting the corners of her mouth. “You sound like an old man, talking like that. Young Harry, indeed.” She padded into the room and sat in one of the leather chairs across from him. Smoothing a hand over her skirts, she asked, “Did he say what brought him to town?”
“He thought to foray into society for the first time as the new baronet in a somewhat less intimidating manner. He knew I was here and thought the festival might be the perfect place to mingle with those of similar interests and station.”
“Eager to claim the perks of his new status, I see,” she commented, crossing her arms over her chest.
Evan shot her a disproving glance. When they were children, Harry had often gazed at her with lovesick cow eyes. She’d always been short with him, deflecting his interest as best she knew how, but he was a full-grown man now, long past his childhood infatuations. “Now, Julia, don’t be cruel. It doesn’t suit you. You know that he and his father were close, and Sir Robert’s death was very difficult for him.”
“You’re right—that wasn’t fair. So, did he think to use you as a means of easing his way into society’s good graces?”
“He’ll make his own way, to be sure. With the title and ten thousand a year, the ton—and their daughters—will surely welcome him with open arms.” With his passable good looks, intelligence, and young age, Harry would practically be catnip for the beau monde. Good for him, as far as Evan was concerned. He’d have his pick when it came to marriage.
She gave a little sniff of disbelief. “He’s impulsive and unreliable—hardly the stuff of young ladies’ dreams.”
“He’s still young. In a few years, I’m sure he’ll be steady as Old Time. Speaking of impulsive young men,” Evan said, remembering the missive that had arrived while Julia was out, “we’ve an invitation from Mr. Wright to join—”
“His party?” Julia broke in, sitting up straight.
Evan tilted his head. “You know about it?”
“Sophie mentioned it just this evening. She and her trio will be playing, and I did so wish to attend.”
Evan chewed the inside of his cheek. He hadn’t thought to accept the invitation, but ever since the opera, he’d had a hell of a time getting Sophie off his mind. The idea of hearing her perform was surprisingly enticing. Almost as enticing as that unforgettable figure of hers. His mouth went dry at the thought of her warm flesh beneath his fingers.
Not something he wanted to be thinking about with his sister watching him. He quickly diverted his thoughts back to Sophie’s music. He vaguely remembered attending one of her performances in town, but this was something different. He had gotten to know her now. Liked her.
“In that case, I’ll respond in the affirmative.” He reached for his brandy and took a drink. That still left him with a bit of a problem: He wasn’t sure how he felt about Julia being around the vicar again. Evan liked the man, but he was wary of the look he’d seen in Wright’s eyes when he had danced with Julia. Jolly fellow, but too forward by half.
“In fact,” he said, setting down the glass as inspiration struck, “I believe I’ll beg the good vicar’s indulgence in allowing Harry to join us.”
Julia’s gaze snapped up to meet his. “Harry?”
“Yes,” he replied, warming to the idea. After all, he had enjoyed a surprisingly pleasant dinner with his neighbor. Harry had been away at school for the last few years, so Evan hadn’t had a chance to really talk with him in a long while. Despite what Julia claimed, he was an open, optimistic young man, eager to share his plans for improving his lands over the next few years. His ideas were sound, and Evan had been quite impressed.
Julia wrinkled her nose, obviously not pleased. “Come now, Evan. Surely you wouldn’t be so gauche as to invite someone to another man’s home.”
He sent a warning look in his sister’s direction. “First of all, it’s not in Wright’s home. It’s at a park on the river, near some ruins or some such thing. Secondly, yes, I think I am exactly that gauche. One of the perks of being an earl.”
Blowing out a breath, she came to her feet. “Fine, do whatever you like. I think I’ll retire for the evening.”
He rose as well, and stepped forward to offer her a peck on the cheek. “Good night. Tomorrow is Sunday, so no official festival activities will be held. However, after church I’d like to go spend the afternoon exercising poor Wolfgang. I’ve neglected him terribly this week. Would you like to join me?” She hadn’t brought her mare along, but he was certain they could find a proper substitute.
She gave a decisive shake of her head. “No, thank you. I’ll probably just catch up on my correspondence. I’m not used to so much activity in a given week.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, offering a little wave as she turned and headed to her chambers.
It was just as well. Besides the exercise, he wanted the ride to help clear his mind. He was well aware he hadn’t been quite his normal self this week. Why? He leaned over and retrieved his brandy, downing the rest of it in one gulp. The image of coffee-colored brown eyes and a dimpled smile flashed through his mind as he rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled.
Why indeed.
* * *
Breezing into Sophie’s drawing room with a triumphant smile the next day, Charity spread her arms. “I have good news.”
“Oh?” Sophie rubbed her hands together, expectant smile in place. “Do tell, my friend. I could use a very large dose of happy news right about now.” Even the weather was depressing this morning, with gray skies and drizzly rain. Charity was a dear for coming to call in the first place.
Charity dropped her arms and angled her head in concern. “I don’t think I like the sound of that. Have you had a bad day?”
“If you consider being lectured by my mother about how very dire my situation is, and her not so gentle urgings to be more dedicated to winning the affections of Lord Evansleigh as bad, then, yes, I have had a very bad day.” As if Sophie needed any reminder, for heaven’s sake. It was her own future at stake. The supremely uncomfortable conversation had taken place at the breakfast table that morning, and had hung over her like a cloud since then.
Charity’s eyes widened in disbelief. “More dedicated? From what I’ve heard, you couldn’t be more dedicated if you tried.”
“Exactly. Unless she wishes for me to propose to him, I am quite at a loss as to how to proceed any more boldly than I currently am.” Other, more scandalous things came to mind, but Sophie could hardly imagine herself grabbing the earl’s lapels and pulling him down for a scorching kiss. On second thought—she most definitely could imagine it, she just couldn’t actually do such a thing. Still, the passionate thought sent a surge of warmth through her veins.
“Well, then, I am doubly glad to be the bearer of good news. Hugh is actually old friends with Lord Evansleigh—school friends, in fact. He says he is happy to help in any way he can, provided we can come up with a way for him to do so.”
“How very kind of him to be so willing.” Sophie had to admit she was surprised. The baron was not exactly a social person. For him to be willing to aid in Sophie’s efforts meant a lot.
“Yes, I told you I could convince him,” Charity responded primly, her smile sly.
Sophie bit back a grin. Perhaps it had been more for Charity’s sake than Sophie’s, but regardless, it was still sweet. “Kudos to your powers of persuasion. Did he have any ideas about the gala?”
“He suggested we bring it up at Thomas’s—Mr. Wright’s—party. An easy, casual segue made in the company of friends.”
“Yes, it would be so much easier if someone like Hugh could bring it up. I am quite nervous of appearing pushy or overly eager.”
“Nothing to worry about with us around. What are friends for if not to make times like these bearable?” Coming around to the sofa, Charity settled into the corner and gestured for Sophie to join her. “Speaking of which, I want to know how you are doing.”
Sophie gave a short laugh. “I’m surviving, if only just.” She shook her head, her smile fading from her lips. “Do you know, I’ve been in love with him for over a year, yet I’ve seen him more in one week than I have in my entire two Seasons combined?” It was strange to think that so much emotion could be wrapped up in so little time with him.
Charity nodded, her eyes pensive. “Now that you’ve doubled your time with him, do you feel the same? Different? Better? Worse?”
“Yes.” When Charity smiled, Sophie sighed and continued. “I’m no longer a nervous wreck around him, which is good, because in the beginning I could hardly get a proper word out. But he’s become real to me. Not just a handsome gentleman with kind eyes who asked the less than popular new debutante to dance.”
“So, different, then.”
“Different, yes. But my heart still pounds whenever he’s near, and my stomach flutters like a stack of papers caught in a windstorm. The difference is, I can actually hold a conversation with him now.”
“And do you like what you hear during these conversations?”
“Not always.” Hearing his lack of interest in her, for one, was less than pleasing. “But I like talking with him, and I think he doesn’t mind talking to me.”
For a moment, Charity didn’t say anything. She sat there, twirling a lock of her copper hair around her index finger as she thought. “Let me ask you this. If your sister had never eloped, if everything were still as it was before I left, would you wish for ways to spend more time with him?”
“Want to? Yes. Be able to? I sincerely doubt it.”
“After how things happened for me, I’m beginning to think that everything happens for a reason. No, that’s not right,” Charity said, releasing the curl and brushing it from her face. “It’s more that good can come from any situation. After all, it was through Hugh’s suffering that we found each other.
“And your sister did something with terrible consequences. But I have every faith that you can turn this into the push you need to try for what you really want.”
“Do you really think that I can do this? Entice the earl, I mean?”
Charity nodded with absolute confidence. “I’d wager you already have. You simply need to let him see that time is of the essence.”
Sophie’s eyes bulged. “You want me to tell him about the elopement?”
“No. Well, yes, but not just yet. What I mean is, give him a reason to believe the window of opportunity to court you may very well be closing.”
It was a suggestion she would never have expected of Charity, the most prudent and thoughtful of the three of them. “You wish for me to lie and tell him I have another suitor?”
“No, silly. I want you to tell him truthfully that you wish that you could have more time together, but that you’ll be leaving soon and are unsure as to when you might see him again, since you won’t be doing another London Season.”
A wisp of regret slid through Sophie’s veins. “My, that is forward. But you’re right, I think. I can’t have him thinking we have all summer to enjoy each other’s company. At least I hope he’s enjoying my company—one never can tell for sure.” She gave a nervous little laugh. “Very well. When I see him at the party tomorrow, I shall do my best to tactfully convey just that.”
The goals for tomorrow’s outing should be simple: Find Evan and somehow separate him from the others; be utterly delightful, charming, and engaging; and somehow casually drop into the conversation that if he hoped to have a catch like her, he’d best hop to it. What could be easier than that?