‘Yes, if you would be so generous.’
Sophy, knowing what he had said about debutantes, recognised that he was being kind, and gave him a brief, grateful smile. Harriet blushed, and nodded. At the conclusion of the dance, Susan returned, looking triumphant. Not only had she danced with a more highly ranking, and dashing-looking gentleman, she knew that in doing so she had shown herself off far more than by merely standing about. She was confident that she would receive further requests to dance, and indeed, almost immediately, Lady Orpington came up to her with a gentleman whom she presented as a desirable partner. That this gentleman was the scion of a very wealthy house made him all the more acceptable to Susan.
‘You appear, my lord, to have been eclipsed almost instantly, by greater wealth and title,’ commented Sophy to Lord Rothley, wondering if he might take it as a slight.
‘Lowering, isn’t it? However, ma’am, perhaps you would provide the balm to my ego by dancing with me.’
‘You asked my cousin to dance because she is beautiful, but you ask me to dance to bolster your self-esteem, my lord. I see just where I stand.’
‘I wonder if you do, Lady Sophronia.’ That dangerous twinkle remained. Sophy found it captivating and thus disquieting.
‘I shall only dance with you upon a very strict condition, sir.’
‘And what is that?’
‘That you promise not to address me as “Lady Sophronia” again.’
‘It is your name.’
‘And I loathe it. Sophronia was the name my mother thrust upon me in the hope that a godmother might prove generous to one of her own name – a misplaced hope, I add. I am now advanced enough in years to be able to request that acquaintances use Sophy, instead. I should have mentioned it to Sir Esmond.’
‘The name is henceforth banished from my lips. Now, shall we dance, ma’am?’
Lord Rothley was not quite as tall as Sir Esmond, barely taller than Sophy herself, and built upon slightly lighter lines, being more sinewy than muscular, but he both danced well and could maintain an entertaining conversation whilst he did so. Sophy expected him to mention her cousin, but he restricted himself to asking about how she was finding London.
‘For you did not come up last Season, did you?’
‘No, we remained at home.’
‘Do you dislike the Metropolis?’
‘Not at all. I like the shops, the variety of entertainments …’
‘But?’
‘I did not say “but”, sir.’
‘It was a silent “but”, ma’am.’
‘It is easy for a gentleman …’ The dance parted them for a minute.
‘What is?’
‘Returning Season after Season, my lord. It is different if one is female, and … unmarried.’
‘Are you too nice in your requirements, Lady Sophy?’
‘It is not my requirements, sir, as I am sure you are well aware. I beg you will not poke fun at me for it.’
‘Forgive me, but I assure you that I do not.’ He sounded genuine enough, she thought.
‘Let us be honest, Lord Rothley. I am too tall to “take”, and I have not my cousin’s … bravura.’
‘Bravura … mmm, one might term it that.’
‘She has not had … discipline. I think perhaps, beneath everything, she is quite lonely, or rather too used to being without friends, and she has not learnt to curb her … enthusiasms.’
‘Very cousinly words. You mean she is a handful.’ He smiled again, and Sophy wished he would not, because it made her want to smile back, whatever he had said. ‘You may say she is beautiful, and I do not deny her looks, but, privately, ma’am, I have to say you are the better dancer. But do not tell your cousin that.’