‘The thought had occurred to me upon several occasions, however.’ Sophy chuckled, and he thought how natural she was, how at ease. ‘If, despite this knowledge, your offer stands, I accept with gratitude. You have but to tell me when it might be convenient to venture upon the expedition.’
‘I am at your disposal, Lady Sophronia.’
‘Then might I also ask another favour?’
‘Of course.’
‘Do not address me as Sophronia. Other than my mama, my family and close acquaintance call me Sophy, which I infinitely prefer.’
‘I am honoured to be admitted to their ranks, Lady Sophy.’ He bowed. ‘And are you engaged tomorrow afternoon?’
‘I do not believe so, sir. Are you attending the Leominster’s soirée this evening? I might be able to confirm then.’
‘I am engaged with friends this evening. However, you might send a note to my address.’ He gave it, and she repeated it back to him. ‘Then I await your missive, ma’am. Now, I ought to leave you to your perambulations and give this chap some decent exercise.’ He patted his horse’s nose.
Sophy extended her hand.
‘Thank you, Sir Esmond.’
‘Not at all, ma’am. It is a pleasure to be of use.’
He bowed slightly over her hand, gathered his reins and mounted, to trot off with the virtuous feeling that he had indeed been useful.
Sophy returned to Hill Street in good humour, and had even forgotten her perplexity over Lord Rothley with the anticipation of selecting horseflesh, even if it was simply to hire. She arrived to the sound of her cousin’s laughter, and found her with Harriet, admiring a bouquet of creamy roses, which had been delivered with an accompanying note from Lord Bollington.
‘See, cousin, I have made a conquest already, upon a little flattery and a single dance.’ Susan was obviously jubilant.
‘Who are they from, may I enquire?’ asked Sophy, calmly.
‘Why, from Bollington. The heir to a marquessate, and at little more than a snap of the fingers,’ crowed Susan, leaning to take in the scent of the flowers.
‘Whilst I hate to burst this particular bubble, Susan, a bunch of roses is … a bunch of roses, not an offer for your hand. I might also add that treating your “conquests” as though shooting pheasant is not appealing.’ Sophy sounded repressive, and Susan pulled a face.
‘Just because you cannot “bag” a man, there is no need to sound like some stuffy aunt.’
Sophy kept her temper, just. She gazed down at her cousin with a stare so chill that Susan actually squirmed.
‘That, Susan, shows both your extreme youth and your total lack of manners. You will retire to your room until we take tea at four.’
‘You are not my aunt.’
‘No, but in her absence, I stand in her stead. Or would you prefer that I inform her of your behaviour?’
Susan scowled, tossed her head and sniffed.
‘I have a headache.’
With which she withdrew, leaving Sophy seething.
‘They are nice flowers,’ offered Harriet, placatingly, ‘and you cannot blame her for feeling elated at receiving them.’
‘They are, and if she had expressed one word which showed that Viscount Bollington had made an impression upon her feelings, I would have been delighted for her. But you heard her, Harry, she crowed at the success because he was a “conquest” made easily. I try to be charitable, for she has had little experience of thinking of anyone but herself, but I think her heart so buried it will take a lot for her to discover it beneath the vanity, and she may yet do so too late.’ She sighed, her happiness deflated. ‘Oh, and I am engaged with Sir Esmond Fawley to pick ourselves hacks for the duration of our visit. I had meant to ask Susan if she wished to accompany me, for I know that you simply want a neat animal with good manners and no vices, but all this with the flowers put it from my head. I shall ask her at tea, and then send a note to Sir Esmond.’
‘How came you to make this arrangement, Sophy?’
‘Oh, he was out riding in Hyde Park when I went for a walk to clear my head. Do not worry, I had Samuel in attendance. I do not forget the proprieties.’
‘I liked Sir Esmond,’ remarked Harriet, looking sidelong at her sister. ‘His voice is slow but his wits are not.’