It was not to be as easy as James had hoped.
Lady Sophia was everything Grandfather demanded: well-born and well connected, with a pristine reputation. Even the death of one betrothed and the desertion of another, which might have given a less popular woman a name for bad luck and worse, was not laid to her account but instead earned her respect for the dignity with which she faced her trials.
Unfortunately, there was a snag. The Earl of Hythe, her brother, was an acolyte of the Duke of Haverford, and Haverford had declared war on the Duke of Winshire, demanding that his son and grandchildren be ostracised. Hostesses who dared break the Haverford decree were few and far between, at least to begin with. Not that the family lacked for invitations, but they came from those who could not hope for their entertainments to be attended by the Duchess of Haverford or the families of any of the peers who supported her husband.
James wanted no part of the dukes’ feud, but still it impeded him. Sophia was not at any of the events to which the Winderfields had an invitation. How could he confirm she was his perfect match if he was unable to spend time with her?
Then a few daring souls cautiously stepped over the boundaries; inviting Aunt Grace and her daughters as well as the Marquis of Aldridge, the Haverford son and heir. Since Aunt Grace insisted on being accompanied by her nieces and escorted by one or other of her nephews, James soon came face to face with the son of his father’s enemy.
Those present held their collective breath. James inclined his head, a ducal heir greeting a ducal heir. Aldridge, a small smile teasing at the corner of his mouth, inclined his. They then passed one another and each continued on their own way.
As the Season wore on, the Duchess of Haverford and the dowager Countess of Sutton both began to attend the same events, though usually one would leave if the other arrived. Under Aunt Grace’s wing, James’s sisters were cautiously accepted, at least in part because any hostess who failed to include them would find their guest list short of young men. Some wit dubbed the four girls ‘the Four Winds’, and it caught on.
They would have been popular enough, probably, just for their beauty and grace. But wealth was pouring into the Winshire coffers from trading enterprises that spanned Central Asia, and reached into China and India at one end and Russia and the countries of the Mediterranean at the other. Rumours had spread from the duchy’s creditors to the Polite World, and all four cousins were near mobbed wherever they went. They leaned heavily on the social intelligence of the older ladies to decide who would be allowed a smile, who was ineligible but safe for a dance, a carriage ride, or a conversation, and who needed to be warned to keep their distance.
With Father largely occupied putting the duchy to rights and organising evidence for the Privileges Committee, glowering at unacceptable suitors became the prime duty delegated to James and Drew, distracting James from manufacturing opportunities to court Lady Sophia.
To give teeth to their protection of their ladies, the brothers made a point of being seen boxing at Jackson’s, sword fighting at Angelo’s, and shooting at Manton’s. Congratulated on their prowess, they explained that they’d been guarding caravans and fighting bandits since they were old enough to ride with the men. “I flatter myself I have the edge with the sword,” James told Wilfred Winderfield, who had introduced himself as a distant cousin, “but Drew can outshoot me. My sister Rosemary is the best archer among us, though Ruth is a close second, and is a superb shot.”
The stories spread, and fuelled the brothers’ scowls with enough credibility to keep the worst of the fortune hunters and rakes from the four ladies, leaving the field open to those who might be eligible grooms. None of which was helping James to win his bride.
"Who is Wilfred Winderfield?" James asked at the dinner table the day of the encounter at Angelo's. “He introduced himself today; said he was a cousin.”
Aunt Georgie raised an eyebrow. "A distant one. So, he is back in town, is he? I thought he was on the run from his creditors after His Grace refused to continue to fund his ridiculous expectations."
James helped himself to another slice of the desert cake. “How distant?"
Father commented, “He must be very distant. My father was an only son, and his father, too.”
“The family lawyers found him," Aunt Georgie explained. “Father feared you would refuse to come back, Sutton, which is why he allowed the ton to go on believing you were dead. They found this young man far out on the fringes of the family tree, but if you and your sons did not exist, he would be next in line.”
"Weasel Winderfield as head of the family.” Sarah pulled a face, as if she had bitten into something sour.
Charlotte’s expression matched her sister’s so closely that the resemblance masked by their different colouring stood out. “It does not bear thinking," she said.
Weasel, was it? James remembered the sly narrow face, the avid eyes.
“He traded on his expectations?” Father raised his eyebrows. “I understood that our father did not discuss my survival outside of the immediate family. One cannot precisely blame the young man if he assumed himself the heir.”
Aunt Georgie shook her head. "He knew you lived, and had been asked to return," she said. “We told him ourselves, when his attentions to Charlotte and Sarah, and his pronouncements about what he would do when he became duke, became too much to bear."
"Last Season he was all over the place, making an absolute pest of himself," Sarah said.
“He thought to endear himself to the duke by marrying one of his granddaughters,” Aunt Grace commented.
“He did his best to compromise us,” Charlotte added.
“We had to explain that he would never be duke,” Sarah said.
“He refused to believe it." Charlotte bit down hard on a piece of pear.
“When he first arrived, Father gave him a small allowance, and told him to live within his means,” Aunt Georgie explained.
Grandfather, James reflected, undoubtedly gave a small allowance because he could not afford a larger one.
“When he began to run up debts, the duke rescinded the allowance, saying the connection was remote and the young man should find something useful to do.”
James could see what happened next. “So, he continued to trade on his expectations and his creditors allowed it because they did not know he had none.”
“Yes,” Aunt Georgie agreed. “Even after we knew you were coming home, Sutton, all our father would say was that you were still young enough to get heirs.”
“When word got out that the young man's expectations were overstated and that the Duke of Winderfield would not stand behind his debts, he left town," Aunt Grace explained. "Rather suddenly."
“Grandfather does not like Weasel,” said Charlotte. “He forbade him the house, and that was when his debts came home to haunt him.”
"And now he is back,” Sarah noted, "and at Angelo's, which one understands to be not inexpensive.”
“Yes,” James agreed, “and introducing himself to us like a long-lost friend. One can only speculate as to why.”
“Knowing Weasel,” Charlotte remarked, “it will be some plot that serves Weasel. Do not trust him, cousin."
For the most part, the Belvoir sisters obeyed their brother’s dictate that they avoid affairs where they might be forced to socialise with anyone from Winshire’s household. “However,” Sophia told Felicity, “I refuse to offend an old friend over this silly feud.”
The Countess of Finchworthy, a goddaughter of Lady Georgiana Winderfield, had made her debut at the same time as Sophia, and they had become good friends. Her husband having recently ascended to the title, Lady Finchworthy was holding her first ball, and the sisters had been invited to come to dinner beforehand.
“We will tell Hythe that if he wishes you not to attend, he will need to escort you to an alternative event himself.” Sophia gave a decisive nod. “I shall be accepting Margarete’s dinner invitation, and remaining for the entire evening.”
Felicity said she would speak to Hythe, though what she told him Sophia neither knew nor asked. When the evening came, Felicity accompanied Sophia to dinner with the Finchworthys and Hythe left for an evening with friends without burdening his sisters with a lecture.
As predicted, the Winshire contingent attended; not just Lady Georgiana and her companion, but Lady Grace, the Four Winds, and both Winderfield brothers. Only Lord Sutton was absent.
It seemed longer than three weeks since Lord Elfingham had rescued the child and she had looked into his eyes and felt her world shift. However, when he entered the drawing room with a cousin on each arm, the days since Buckinghamshire faded away. He saw her immediately, and set course for her corner, seeming not to notice the cousins he dragged along with him.
She turned towards him, helpless to resist, and he came to a stop in front of her. Neither of them spoke except, Sophia fancied, soul to soul.
She started out of her daydream, and so did Lord Elfingham, when Lady Sarah said cheerfully, “Good evening, Lady Sophia; hello, Fliss.”
Felicity, whom Sophia had completely forgotten, was looking from her to Lord Elfingham and suppressing a grin. “Hello, Sarah. Hello, Charlotte. And you must be the famous cousin,” she said to Lord Elfingham.
From Lord Elfingham’s other side, Lady Charlotte did the honours. “Ladies, allow me to make known to you our cousin, Lord Elfingham. Jamie, the Ladies Sophia and Felicity Belvoir."
Felicity held out her hand and Lord Elfingham bowed over it. He then reached for Sophia’s. Politeness overcame the dread she would disgrace herself at his touch, and the ballroom narrowed to just the two of them as he took the proffered hand and bowed, properly and disappointingly kissing the air an inch from her glove.
“May I petition you for a dance later at the ball, Lady Sophia?”
She blinked. “I do not dance tonight. I am here as my sister’s chaperone.”
Felicity, the traitor, said, “Go ahead, Soph. I shall be perfectly fine with my friends.”
Sophia wanted to. Why should she not? Hythe would object when he heard, but what could he do? He was three years her junior, and he did not own her. She was twenty-five years old, had an impeccable reputation, and was in control of her own small independence, left to her by an aunt. She faced a life time of going to bed alone; why should she not have one dance with this glorious man to dream about?
“Yes, Lord Elfingham,” she found herself saying. “Yes, I will dance with you. I will save you a dance later in the evening.” With luck, there would be fewer people around to gossip to her brother.
“The supper dance?” he asked, hopefully, but she offered instead the second dance after supper.
Having gained her agreement, he solicited Felicity for a dance, just as Margarete swooped on Sophia and carried her off. “I particularly wanted you to meet a friend of Finchworthy’s,” Margarete said. “He is a widower, Sophia, and such a nice person.”
Sophia sighed at her friend’s patent matchmaking, but managed to talk to the other victim for ten minutes without falling into silences to dream of the coming dance, and without allowing her treacherous eyes to swivel constantly towards Lord Elfingham, who was being conducted by his cousins to one group after another and, as far as she could see in surreptitious glances, charming one and all.
Dinner was no better. Sophia and the widower were at one end of the table, close to their hostess; the older ladies of the Winshire party were somewhere in the middle; the younger ladies and gentlemen at the far end. Sophia set herself to converse politely with her dinner companions, alternating at Margarete’s signal between the widower on one side and the much older and very married earl on the other.
When it was the turn of the widower, Sophia could see the merry party at the foot of the table. They were ignoring the rules of dignified discourse to talk back and forth. Lord Elfingham was charming them all but, when he caught her watching, he stilled for a moment, his gaze suddenly intent, as if she were prey and he a hunter.
She shook off the fancy, and addressed a comment at random to the widower.
The ball was pleasant enough. She decided to give away the two dances after her dance with Lord Elfingham, so there would be no risk of finding herself petitioned to dance by someone she wanted to avoid. “Do not mention that I am dancing,” she warned each of the men she selected, both friends, both good dancers, and neither of them likely to nurture romantic aspirations. “I am engaged for the last three dances only, and I would prefer it to remain that way.”
Felicity spent most of the time on the dance floor or sitting a dance out with whichever gentleman she had favoured for the set. Sophia kept her in view as she walked around, meeting friends and catching up on their news. Felicity was clever and competent, but at eighteen, she had an inflated opinion of her ability to avoid trouble.
Felicity’s dance with Lord Elfingham was early in the evening. They looked splendid together. Both gifted dancers, they commanded attention. At the end of the set, Mr Winderfield, Lord Elfingham’s brother, was waiting to take his turn, and Lord Elfingham bowed politely and went off to partner another young lady.
Lord Elfingham was seldom off the floor all evening. Wherever she was, and whomever she was talking to, Sophia was aware of him. It was incidental, she assured herself. She happened to be scanning the room constantly to be sure she knew where Felicity was and what she was doing. Of course, she noticed Lord Elfingham. He was the most compelling figure at the ball.
He had probably asked her to dance merely so she would be hard put to refuse him his chance at Felicity. Any further advances in that direction would have to be squelched, for Hythe would be furious. Thank goodness Felicity had not given him the supper dance. To be fair, he had not asked for it. Sophia was relieved, when the time came, to see him taking in one of his cousins and joining the rest of his family.
She wanted supper to last forever and could barely wait for it to be over.
James had never before been nervous over a mere dance. He was a competent dancer—more than competent, were he to be honest. He enjoyed the exercise, too. Performing the steps and movements satisfied both his love of music and his sense of community, for everyone had to cooperate, particularly in the round dances.
This dance was different. His first with Lady Sophia, but not the last. Even their brief conversation earlier this evening had added fuel to his hope that the connection between them was not just in his imagination.
Lady Sophia accepted his hand, and allowed him to lead her to the floor. She took her place in the line of ladies and wouldn’t look at him, but no matter. In just a moment, the figures of the dance would require her to gaze into his eyes as they circled one another, and then promenaded the length of the line. There! It was their turn.
Her eyes met his. The music muted and he lost all sense of the floor and the crowds. In all the world, there was only her. Eternity passed, until he felt a sharp nudge and came to himself enough to release the lady’s hands.
Somehow, he was back where he was meant to be, standing at the far end of the line. As he circled around the last lady in the row—his cousin Charlotte, clearly the person who nudged him—and Lady Sophia circled his brother Drew, he reflected that he must have been well enough drilled in the dance that his feet kept moving, his body and arms obeying some instinct. He passed his lady again, as each of them took up their new places at the end of the line.
His lady. He had messed up his chance to talk to her during the initial movements, when four couples moved through the patterns, two couples at a time.
Each couple repeated the pattern, and James and Sophia made their way to the head of the line twice more before the set ended. Each time they took their turn as one of the couples not dancing, he fought his desire to exult in her presence, and talked to her instead. It wasn’t nearly long enough. He learned of her commitment to her sister, but he already knew from his cousins that she was devoted to Lady Felicity. He found out that she preferred the country to the city, but enjoyed the Season because she had many friends. He listened to her speak with passion of the orphans and hint at other charities she supported in person as a good benefactor should, rather than with gold scattered from on high.
She was not just beautiful, well born, and well connected. She was kind and generous. Intelligent, too, and not backwards about stating her opinion and supporting it with facts.
All too soon, the dance was over. He escorted her back to her sister, who was in a laughing group with his cousins, searching his mind for a way to prolong his time with her.
“Perhaps,” he said, just before they reached the others, “you would be good enough to walk with me in Hyde Park one afternoon?”
They were interrupted by a fashionably dressed young man, perhaps a year or two older than Drew. "Sophia, Felicity, come away at once."
Sophia blinked, as if shaking off a spell. "Hythe! You have not said good evening to Lady Charlotte and Lady Sarah, and I would make known to you Lord Elfingham. My lord, my brother Hythe.”
James met the eyes of Nathan Belvoir, Earl of Hythe.
For all his youth—Hythe was three years Sophia’s junior and seven years younger than James—he was head of the Belvoir family, and James would prefer to have his blessing to court the man’s sister. From the hostility in the young earl’s blue eyes, it would not be forthcoming.
Hythe flushed under his sister’s rebuke. “Ladies, he muttered, with a perfunctory bow. He ignored James.
“My lord,” James’s cousins chorused.
James amused himself by bowing to the young earl. On second thoughts, it was not at all funny that his beloved’s brother was part of the opposition. He would have to find a way to win the man over.
Lady Sophia glared at her brother and he gave James a nod and his sister a resentful frown.
“Thank you for a splendid dance, my lord,” Sophia said to him. “Come Felicity, Hythe.”
She turned and walked away, the others in her wake. “What a splendid woman,” James commented.
“I could introduce you to another dozen who would suit our grandfather just as well,” Sarah claimed. Charlotte, with a sidelong look at James, corrected, “Twenty, at least.”
James ignored them. The dance had confirmed him in his belief. No other wife would do.