Sophia
“Miss Sophia, your father is waiting for you downstairs. The carriage is ready.”
“Thank you, Anne.” Sophia looked at herself in the mirror. “Once again, you have done my curls perfectly.”
“And I am happy we returned to commission that peach muslin dress for you. It fits you perfectly, and the coloring is just perfect with your golden hair.”
Sophia smiled. “You flatter me, dear Anne.” She clutched onto her maid’s hand. “And yet, I will not ask you to stop.” Sophia giggled, feeling better since the day she had seen Jasper and refused to take dinner.
It was a few days since that horrible moment, and she felt her strength returning. Jasper still threatened to occupy a large portion of her mind, but she hoped and prayed continually that he would become less and less important to her. She had Charles to think of, after all.
Yes, Charles. I must think of Charles and his . . . hair?
Sophia shook her head, ready to leave and forget the stream of her thoughts. She knew deep down she could think of plenty of things to occupy her mind that had to do with Jasper, but when she wished to think of Charles, the man who was presently courting her, she could come up with nothing better than his hair? Ridiculous.
She was ashamed, and her cheeks reddened as she descended the stairs to meet her father. Mr. Jonathan Weatherby was a rather rotund man with gray hair. He was nearing fifty years old and yet his hair was thick and his complexion ruddy with health.
It had been a few years since her mother’s death, but Sophia had found great comfort in her father’s love, even if he was often a bit too strict.
She knew that he had never approved of Jasper, but in the past she’d hoped that one day he would have allowed her to marry him. Ah well, it appeared her father knew best.
“Good evening, Father,” Sophia said as she made her way to the base of the stairs. Clutching her fan in one gloved hand, she slid the other into the crook of his arm.
“Good evening, my sweet Sophia. You look positively radiant. It’s a shame Charles Derby will not be there tonight. If he were, he would be unable to look away all night.”
Grinning, her father walked her to the carriage, and they settled inside. She was certain that he was right. Charles would not look away and for a reason that was completely known to her, that was the problem.
He always did everything that was expected, and it would be expected that he should pay attention to the woman he was courting all evening. But that somehow bothered her. She wanted to be romanced, not ogled.
But at least the season had begun, and she didn’t have to always think about Jasper. She would have plenty of other things to occupy her mind.
As they sat in the carriage, her father asked, “Are you all right, Sophia? These past few days you have seemed ill. They reminded me of—” He stopped, and Sophia knew exactly what he meant.
She smiled weakly, hoping to quell his fears. “It is nothing, Father. I think that the beginning of the season is always tiring to me. There is so much to see and do, and you already know the amount of people that one must speak to.”
Jonathan smiled. “You are quite right, my dear. It is a trying time, especially for a young woman. I cannot imagine all that goes into your preparations. But you must know that it will be worth it. Surely, Charles will make you an offer soon enough.”
Sophia looked at her smiling father. He was so concerned with her finding someone, with marrying her off. He never seemed to think of how sad she had been only recently. She didn’t have the heart to explain to him or to tell him of her growing doubts about Charles. It didn’t seem fair when it made him this happy.
The carriage slowed in front of the Westchester Estate. It was an impressive façade, and she knew that the son, Marcus Harrington, was a bit of a philanderer. Was London simply full of them?
“Father, do you know the Earl of Westchester very well?”
“Yes, we went to school together many years ago now.” He laughed as if at some distant memory. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. I was simply curious since we have never been invited to a gathering here before.” She smiled back as he helped her down from the carriage.
If memory served her properly, Marcus Harrington and Jasper Dawson had been quite good friends. She thought she had seen them speaking together at the Crawfords’ ball.
If that was so, then perhaps Jasper would also be here this evening, and she would have to reinstate the carefully constructed walls of her heart that he had so carelessly knocked down outside of the hat shop.
She would not even think about it. Jasper belonged in the past, while Charles was her future. Something twinged in her conscience, but she ignored it. Unfortunately, Charles was not a close friend of the Harringtons’ and so had not been invited. She had not even asked Anne to come as her companion.
Sophia held her father’s arm and looked at the house as they wandered up the steps. She would have to face whatever happened tonight on her own.
“Jonathan Weatherby,” a friendly voice called from the doorway as they approached. “A hearty welcome to you.”
An older, handsome man with graying hair shook her father’s hand. “This must be your daughter, Miss Sophia. I have heard much about her loveliness, and I see the rumors are true.” He smiled kindly at her while he clasped her hand.
Her father’s grin widened. “You are correct. This is my daughter. We were most grateful to receive your invitation. I am sorry that we were unable to see you at the last ball.”
“Ah, yes. I am afraid I do not enjoy the thick throngs of a ballroom and prefer a smaller gathering. We are most happy to have you! It has been many years since we had seen each other at school. I hope you will come in and make yourselves comfortable. My son, Marcus, is inside, greeting guests in the drawing room.”
Sophia nodded with a practiced, glittering smile, and she floated, a vision of peach muslin, into the drawing room to greet the handsome, rugged face of Marcus Harrington, the young Viscount Dorwich. “You must be Miss Weatherby,” he said, and Sophia found herself smiling, even though he spoke in a familiar, intimate tone. She could instantly identify him as a rake.
“You would be correct.” She curtsied before him, and he nodded.
“I do believe we share an acquaintance, Miss Weatherby.”
Sophia’s heart stopped, but her smile lost none of its glimmer. “Oh, is that so? Who might that be?”
Marcus turned his head back to the other figures standing about the drawing room, and then said, “Ah, here he is.” He waved to someone behind him, but Sophia couldn’t see the person right away as they were covered by the other standing guests.
Sophia looked around, trying to keep herself calm. Her eyes scanned the crowd. The other members of the dinner party seemed to be a mixture of older people, and they were all in quiet conversation.
To her delight, she spotted Clara Torrence, and her shoulders sank in relief. She lifted her hand to wave at her friend, while the man Marcus was waving to finally exited through the crowd and stood before her. Sophia’s heart fell to the bottom of her belly.
“Jasper,” she whispered, her voice unable to speak any louder. She wasn’t sure if she was delighted or disappointed. It was hard to tell anymore. “I mean Lord Addington, of course,” she added when she saw the harsh look of a nearby older duchess. Clara was watching her from afar, a confused look on her face.
Sophia curtsied deeply, hoping that she could stay in that position forever with her eyes down, away from the sight of him. For Jasper was even more handsome than he had been at the Crawfords’ ball. It appeared he had an endless supply of good looks, and she felt tortured. He did not look like a man who would leave a woman that loved him dearly without a word.
Annoyingly, his eyes were just as brown and enticing as they had always been.
He bowed his head. “Miss Weatherby. How lovely to see you again.” His smile said everything, reminding her of those few moments under the moonlight when he had come close to her, so close that they had nearly kissed.
Sophia didn’t know how to respond, and so she opened her fan, hoping to hide some of her expression. “The feeling is mutual, Lord Addington.”
Clara finally made it to her side, and Sophia could have wrapped her in a tight embrace but refrained. “Miss Torrence,” she said with a smile. Clara curtsied and then turned to Marcus and Jasper.
“Lord Addington,” she said. “Viscount Dorwich and I have already made our greetings,” she added with a slight grimace.
Her distaste seemed to highly entertain Marcus. He laughed, giving them his most rakish grin. “Ah, Miss Torrence, you amuse me endlessly. I hope you ladies enjoy your evening. It should prove to be most interesting.” He winked at Clara, and Sophia turned to see her friend’s cheeks turn a bright red.
Thankfully, the butler arrived at that moment and announced that dinner was served. Sophia smiled at Clara and searched over the small crowd to find her father, after nodding her head politely to Marcus and Jasper. That was all she could do. She could be polite and kind, even though her heart was racing.
Clara found her way to her parents. When Sophia located her father, his face was ruddy with merriment. He patted her hand and whispered, “Ah, Sophia, you do not know the great pleasure of meeting an old friend after so many years!”
“Is it always a pleasure?” she whispered back. “Sometimes it could mean great pain.”
In front of the long dinner table, her father pulled back to look at her, a confused expression on his face. She shook her head. “Never mind, Father. I am glad that you have met an old friend. Come, let us sit.”
A footman came to assist her and her father into their seats, and as she settled herself, laying her fan at her side, she looked up to see Jasper across from her.
Really, fate is too cruel.
He was still grinning, but at least the table was wide enough that they would not be forced into conversation if they did not wish it.
She looked to the head of the table, where Lord Westchester was raising his glass.
“I welcome you, dear guests. As you know, I am much more the type of man to enjoy quiet dinner parties as opposed to crowded ballrooms. I am very happy you have come to join us this evening. We have spent too long here at Dorwich Estate without merriment, although my son Marcus has attempted to address the deficit.”
The crowd laughed politely. Sophia merely gripped her wine glass and sneaked a glance at Jasper, who was watching her as well. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, lost in the lovely brown swirl of his eyes. She forced herself to tear her eyes away once more.
“Enjoy your evening,” Lord Westchester said and took a sip from his glass, the rest of the group following after him.
Sophia busied herself watching the other guests. There was a bountiful amount of pearls and feathers, swishing muslin and dark tailed coats. She had seen many of the faces before, but she had not been invited to most of their homes.
She scrunched up her nose as she realized that each of them appeared bitter, as if they were sucking on a lemon instead of tasting the most divine food that she had ever tasted. The meal started with a warm cream soup and after that, they feasted upon Beef Wellington. Sophia would have been in Heaven, except for the fact that Jasper sat nearby, which unsettled her nerves.
Her eyes looked to Clara, and they smiled at each other. Sophia had a feeling that both of them needed comfort that evening.
Turning back to the appraisal of the guests, she spotted Jasper’s father, in deep conversation with another one of the male guests. She had not spoken to him very much, but when she had, he was cheerful and kind.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Jasper had leaned forward, his brown curls pouring over his head in a handsome fashion, his hands lying on the table pointed toward her.
Sophia opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, and her father drew her attention away with a question. She could see that Jonathan was eyeing Jasper with suspicion, but he said nothing.
Of course. Why should I be blessed with speech when my former truest love is before me? When it is the very time I must have a voice!
The dinner passed as uneventfully as Sophia could make it. She spoke to her father, and then she turned to the Dowager Duchess on her right, hoping to engage her in some sort of uninteresting conversation in an effort to make herself forget that Jasper was so close at hand.
She could feel his eyes on her, and she hated it, for it was such a familiar feeling, a feeling that had formerly made her tingle with pleasure, but now only made her feel sick.
She wanted him to leave. He had left once before, why could he not do it again and leave her in peace? She had made a change in her life, and now he had to return to ruin it.
Her father was busy discussing old school days with the others around him including their host, filling his mouth with chicken and potatoes, and she was embarrassed at the sight. They were not titled, they were not peerage, and yet they had been invited. They should at least show a sense of decorum.
Once the meal was finished, the small party went their separate ways; the women to one room, the men to another to partake in discussion before they engaged in card playing and music.
As Sophia sauntered into the room set for the ladies, she was met with a small group of six older women, all clustered together as if they had known each other for years, while a fire raged healthily in the hearth. She was grateful for the bookshelves, and she moved along them hungrily, hoping to find something that could occupy her mind for the next hour or so.
Clara moved next to her. “I am so grateful that you are here, Sophia. I think I might have died of boredom if you were not.” Clara turned her eyes from the bookshelves to the other women. “My mother was happy we had been invited to such a small gathering, but I was not looking forward to it at all.”
Sophia chuckled. “Because of Viscount Dorwich?”
Clara sighed. “He is incorrigible. I had to dance with him the other night to appease my mother, but I did not enjoy it. And now we are here.”
“He is very handsome, though. And charming.”
“He is a rake. And you know it.” They stood in silence for a moment.
One of the women on the other side of the room said, “Did you see that Lord Addington has returned from the New World?” Sophia tensed and looked away, hoping to return her thoughts to the bookshelves. The voices continued behind her.
“I see. What has caused his return, or better yet, what had caused his departure to begin with?”
The other women giggled at the question, and Sophia felt herself burning with embarrassment, even though she knew for certain that no one knew of their nighttime rendezvous. Only Anne had been present, and she would never have breathed a word to anyone.
As she passed her finger along the spines of the volumes before her, her mind flashed back to an evening when they sat upon a blanket in their usual spot, surrounded by candles and sitting under the moonlight, Jasper regaling her with stories from his time at school.
She had laughed so hard that the champagne nearly bubbled painfully through her nose. “Do women not have such tales as these?” he had asked, and she’d shaken her head.
“No, indeed. Or if we did, we would never share them if a man was present.” She had grinned, attempting to make herself irresistible, and she had basked in the way his brown eyes had watched her, as if they wanted to consume her.
It didn't matter, not any more. She shook the memory off, and a strange woman’s voice came through strongly from behind her, responding to the question. “I had heard it was because of a woman. He had to leave or else he would have destroyed her reputation. What do you say to that?”
One of the women gushed, “I think it is very romantic. He left so that the woman he loved could keep her reputation intact.”
Sophia snorted, and when all went silent, she turned around to see the other women staring at her, including Clara, who had been listening to the older women’s conversation intently.
Sophia stammered, “I—I just mean, do you honestly believe that a man would think of such a thing?”
She was met with blank expressions and gaping mouths, and she wished that somehow the floor could swallow her whole. Could this dinner party get worse?