by Amelia Grey
“Or possibly it’s simply that an earl caused your breath to catch in your throat and a fluttering in your stomach.”
Mae jerked around to face Sophia with surprise lighting her face. “Did you feel it too, when you looked at Lord Bighampton and Lord Snellingly?”
“No, Auntie,” Sophia said, feeling her own wistfulness. But there was another gentleman who’d made her feel that way.
“Oh, oh, I didn’t either,” Aunt Mae said, turning her face away again.
Sophia knew her aunt was fibbing, again. “Auntie?”
Mae shook her head and laughed. “Yes, I admit that sometimes I yearn for the touch of a man. I have dreams even in my dotage. I imagine what it would be like for a gentleman to call on me, to hold my hand, to hold me. But that’s all it is. A dream. I’m too old for anything else.”
Sophia felt her aunt’s passion deep in her soul. “Nonsense. You aren’t forty yet, are you?”
“Thirty-eight. I’m like a dried flower on the shelf. No man is going to look at me. It’s not realistic for me to dream about being courted, Sophia, but it is satisfying.”
Sophia’s heart ached for her aunt’s plight. She had no idea why neither of her aunts had married. Even at their advanced age, they were lovely in appearance and countenance. They were both intelligent and delightful to converse with. But whatever caused them not to marry when in their prime, it was obvious that Aunt Mae was having regrets now.
Without thinking it through, Sophia said, “If you would like to have a beau, I’ll help you get one.”
Startled, Mae looked at Sophia and laughed again. “What?”
“I’ll help you get a beau,” Sophia said, knowing she had no idea how she would go about doing something like this, but she wanted to make her aunt feel that all was not lost just because of her age.
Mae’s eyes rounded in wonder. “You would do that for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course,” Sophia said earnestly. “I’ve never liked the accepted rule that a gentleman can wait as long as he likes to marry, but if a lady wants to take her time, she will be considered a weed on the shelf and not marriageable.”
Her aunt seemed thoughtful for a moment and then said, “If I were interested, which I’m not, mind you—the idea is absolutely preposterous—but if I were, how would you go about helping me?”
“Well, it’s simple,” she said slowly, stalling while praying for an idea to pop into her mind. Now that she’d made her bold assertion, she had to come up with how to implement it. “Let’s see, perhaps if there were a gentleman you were interested in, like Lord Bighampton.”
“An earl!” Aunt Mae exclaimed. “Oh, my heavenly stars, Sophia! Lord Bighampton is such a splendid cut of a man. He would never be interested in me.”
“You don’t know that. Besides, I was using him only as an example. No matter the gentleman, if he wanted to call on me,” Sophia said as an idea came to her, “I would agree, and then I could be late for our outing. I’d make him wait and ask you to keep him company until I was ready. And then, I would have you join us for a ride in the park. That would work, wouldn’t it? I could make sure he talked to you more than me. He could see what a truly lovely and charming person you are, and he would want to call on you.”
“Oh, by all the saints in heaven, Sophia! It does sound doable.”
Sophia blinked in surprise that her aunt actually liked her hastily thought of plan.
A worried expression settled on Mae’s face. “But even if we could make it work, June would never approve.”
“Why should she have to?” Sophia said. “She is your sister, not your mother and not your keeper. You can’t worry about what she will think.”
Aunt Mae laughed. “You know June can be very forceful, but thank you, dear one. Your ideas make me feel young again.” She hesitated and then shook her head. “June is right. We don’t need husbands in our lives. We have each other, and now you to look after.”
“No, she isn’t right.” Sophia reached over and hugged her aunt. “Our plan is set, and I will not let you talk yourself out of it. Now, at the next party we attend, I want you to pick out three gentlemen you would like to call on you, and I will let them know that a call from them would be welcome.”
“All right, I already have two in mind.”
“Good. All we have to do is talk Aunt June into letting gentlemen call on me, so we can both get busy finding the gentlemen of our dreams.”
“What is going on between you two?” June asked, walking into the drawing room. “You’re laughing like schoolgirls pulling a prank on the governess.”
“Oh, we are doing nothing of the sort,” Mae said. “I was just complimenting Sophia on her poetry.”
“So it’s good?” June asked.
“Yes,” Mae said with a smile. “It’s very creative, and I think it’s going to be very good.”
Mae looked at Sophia, and she smiled.
Eight
A well-spent day brings happy sleep.
—Leonardo da Vinci
“It’s so lovely,” Sophia said, looking out the coach window.
They had been queuing for almost half an hour along the lighted, tree-lined drive that led to Lord Tradesforke’s large manor house at the end of the lane. According to Sir Randolph, Lord Tradesforke’s party, always given on the eve of the opening of the Season, was his favorite to attend. The carriage ride from Mayfair to the earl’s house took fifteen minutes, but it hadn’t seemed that lengthy, because Sir Randolph kept Sophia and her aunts entertained with stories about the crusty old man.
Much to the dismay of his family, the earl had spent most of his life sailing the seas and visiting other countries. He never took his rightful place in parliament, and he’d never bothered to marry, seemingly content to allow his brother’s son to become heir to the title. Seeing all the different cultures in the world and bringing back pieces of them to display in his lavish homes were his only interests.
“Of all the houses I’ve been in, and that’s been quite a few in my lifetime, Lord Tradesforke’s house is the most impressive,” Sir Randolph said. “I was pleased he agreed you and your chaperones could come with me tonight. He’s a friendly gentleman, but he can be an old fig about whom he invites to his parties.”
Sophia turned to Sir Randolph, who was sitting beside her in the carriage. Her aunts sat primly on the opposite side of the velvet-covered carriage cushions. “I’m delighted you arranged it for us. There are so many lights surrounding the house and shining in the windows that it almost looks alive.”
Sir Randolph laughed. “I’ve always thought that too. With the houses so close together in Mayfair, it’s not possible to entertain the way the earl does here. Wait until you get inside and see all of the artwork, statues, and oddities he’s collected from his many tours to other countries.”
“I can hardly wait, Sir Randolph. Tell us more.”
“I don’t think I understand the fascination of this gentleman,” June said in a quarrelsome tone. “Just because the man has traveled the world, everyone wants to come to his parties and see his novelties?”
“That’s not all there is, but perhaps you were sleeping through that part of my story,” Sir Randolph said.
June huffed with indignation. “I have not been sleeping.”
“Then I’ll repeat myself just for you. One of the reasons everyone wants to come to the earl’s first party is that he always gives a second one about midway through the Season. His rule is you can’t come to the second if you didn’t make the first.”
“That seems high-handed to me,” June said, pulling her wrap tighter around her neck. “It’s a party, not an audience with the King.”
“Oh, don’t be so contrary, June,” Mae said. “I’m with Sophia. I want to hear more.”
Sir Randolph looked thoughtful for a moment. “I supposed you don’t underst
and it, because there is enjoyment for everyone in what he does, Miss Shevington, and perhaps you aren’t too familiar with what that is.”
June gasped. “That’s not true, Sir Randolph. I know quite well how to enjoy myself.”
“It doesn’t show,” he answered.
“Don’t mind Aunt June, Sir Randolph,” Sophia said, hoping to put an end to the friction developing between her chaperone and her guardian. “Continue with what you were saying.”
He gave her a grateful smile. “He started this about five years ago. He does something different every year for the second party. The first year he had a masquerade ball, but what made it exceptional was that everyone had to wear a toga, and then when we arrived, we were all given the same mask to wear. No one could tell who anyone was. It was such a delight to be fooled. People still talk about that evening. One year he had transformed his ballroom into a carnival-like atmosphere, with men walking on ropes tightly stretched from one end of the ballroom to the other. There were jugglers, contortionists, and cages with live animals in the ballroom.”
Her aunts gasped.
“Surely not,” Sophia said.
“Oh, it’s true. There were a tiger, a leopard, a lion, and a bear. I swear on my honor. About halfway through the evening, the lion roared, and half the women in attendance fainted, and the other half ran for the doors.”
Sophia and Mae laughed, but June remained starchy.
“To this day no one knows where he got the animals or what he did with them after the party, but just ask anyone tonight who was there three years ago, and they will tell you it is true.”
“That was very daring of him.”
“What an exciting adventure that must have been,” Mae said dreamily.
“I think it’s outrageous, Sister,” June said, “and you should too. I think it was shameful that the lion frightened all those ladies.”
“Well, it wasn’t, Miss Shevington,” Sir Randolph insisted. “Lord Tradesforke had no idea the lion would roar as if he was in a jungle somewhere. And besides, all the ladies came back the next year, so I guess they didn’t mind being frightened.”
“I wonder where he comes up with all these extraordinary ideas to enliven his parties,” Sophia said.
“I suppose he gets them from his many travels around the world. Not every year has been so beyond the pale. One year he had a troupe of actors and actresses perform a play that was so amusing everyone laughed for hours afterward. Then, there was the year he set up rings on the grounds, and he had fencing and boxing matches for us to watch. Everyone waits to see what Lord Tradesforke will come up with next.”
Sophia smiled at Sir Randolph. “I can hardly wait to see what he comes up with this year.”
“That’s the adventurous attitude I like.”
Mae sighed, June made her familiar clucking sound, and Sophia looked out the window again.
When the carriage finally arrived at the house, they stepped down and entered the massive double doors. They left their wraps with servants standing in the vestibule and made their way down a long corridor into a large, opulent ballroom that was filled with chattering people and loud music.
Sophia had never been in a house so elaborately furnished with gilt-washed chairs and settees upholstered in elegant fabrics that were striped with gold-colored thread. The ceiling of the enormous ballroom was painted in a pastel blue with heavenly beings and mortals mingling among colorful flowers. The walls were decorated in a grand style, with heavy emphasis on baroque woodwork, gilt framing, and silk padding. Two fancy sconces that held hundreds of lit candles graced each wall. Tall, decorative French mirrors lined the walls, making the room look larger and overflowing with beautifully gowned ladies and impeccably dressed gentlemen. Sir Randolph had told her that, other than vouchers for Almack’s, Lord Tradesforke’s party was the most coveted invitation among the ton. She could certainly understand why.
Before Sophia had time to catch her breath from the grandeur of the room, Lord Bighampton greeted her, her aunts, and Sir Randolph. For a moment she felt he had intruded on her evening, but she quickly remembered the reason for attending the Season was to find a husband—a titled one. She had much to do if she were going to find her aunt a beau and make a match for herself by the end of the Season.
Sophia watched the rotund earl and listened to him as he and Sir Randolph talked about the cool weather, the money scandal involving the Lord Mayor, and the ridiculously long line to get into Lord Tradesforke’s home. Lord Bighampton had a title, but she couldn’t find much else that sparked an interest in him. Perhaps she would be doing him an injustice if she discounted him so early in the Season.
“Would you like to walk with me to the champagne table, Miss Hart?” Lord Bighampton asked and then quickly added, “With Sir Randolph’s permission, of course.”
Sir Randolph nodded.
“Thank you, Lord Bighampton,” Sophia said, knowing a few minutes alone with the earl would help her to learn more about his views concerning a woman’s capabilities.
It amazed her that a man could completely trust the managing of a large estate with more than two dozen servants to his wife, but thought her incapable of handling any other kind of business. Perhaps if Lord Bighampton was more forward thinking, she could overlook the fact that he was rotund, balding, and twice her age.
“This way,” he said.
He ushered her toward the perimeter of the ballroom and away from the crowd chatter and music.
A young gentleman tried to stop the earl, but he waved the man away and gruffly said, “Not now,” and kept walking.
Lord Bighampton was almost breathless by the time they made it to the champagne table set up at the back of the room. “So tell me, Miss Hart,” he said, patting his forehead with his handkerchief, “what kinds of things make you happy, and what brings you the most joy?”
“It doesn’t take much to make me happy, my lord. A sunny day will do that.”
“In our climate, sunny days make almost everyone happy. Tell me, do you like to ride?”
“I’ve not had the opportunity to ride often, but I enjoyed the few times I was in a saddle.”
“I have a stable of many fine, spirited horses, as well as even-tempered mares at my estate in Kent.”
He handed her a glass of champagne. “How often do you spend time at your summer estate?” she asked.
“As much as possible. Usually, I spend only spring in London. Of course, I wouldn’t miss the Season. It’s a good time to catch up with old friends and to see who’s come of age, who has married, and who has given birth in the past year.”
“But what about your business ventures?”
“My businesses?” he queried.
“Yes, I mean how do you manage your affairs, being far away from London so much of the time?”
“Oh, never worry about that, my dear. I have my solicitors and my managers to take care of everything for me. They send me reports on everything. Have no fear that I work too hard and have no occasions for recreation. I have plenty of time for house parties and fox hunting.”
“I see,” she said.
Sophia would not want to live most of her life in Kent, riding horses or planning menus for house parties. She wanted to be in London, where she could monitor Shevington’s account books, shipments, and stay in touch with all their many suppliers in India.
She could see the differences between a gentleman like Lord Bighampton, who had not worked for his position in life but had had it handed to him, and a man like her father, who’d worked hard to build his company. Her father had never allowed others to manage his affairs or make important decisions until he was too ill to do it himself.
“My estate is quite large,” Lord Bighampton continued. “If you would prefer, you can ride a carriage around the estate. I realize some ladies are frightened of horses. They are large animals.”
“I am not afraid of horses, Lord Bighampton. I’ve just never had many occasions to be around them.”
“Good evening, Lord Bighampton,” Lord Snellingly said, bowing first to the earl, to whom he hardly gave a passing glance, and then to Sophia. “And how are you this fine evening, Miss Hart? No, no, don’t answer me. I can see that you are enchanting every gentleman who is here this evening. And you are, quite simply, the most stunningly lovely young lady here. I was hoping you would delight us with your company tonight. I must say that looking at you makes my eyes dance with pleasure.”
“Thank you,” Sophia said, blushing at his effusive compliments.
“And good evening to you too, Lord Snellingly,” Lord Bighampton said tightly.
Lord Snellingly sniffed into his lace-trimmed handkerchief. “I was in a dither earlier in the evening, but now that I’ve seen Miss Hart, I feel much better.” He stepped between Sophia and the earl and said, “I wrote a short poem just for you.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of vellum.
“Now see here, Snellingly,” Lord Bighampton said, pushing his way between the two of them. “I’m afraid we don’t have the time for your poetry tonight.”
“Nonsense, my lord,” Lord Snellingly said, shaking the folds out of the paper. “It’s four lines. What kind of foul and ill-bred beast wouldn’t have time for four lines of poetry?”
He then turned to Sophia. “You want to hear what I have written, don’t you, Miss Hart?”
“Yes, of course,” she answered, not knowing whether Lord Snellingly couldn’t tell that Lord Bighampton was seething, or if he simply didn’t care.
“Very well then,” the earl said testily. “But be quick about it.”
Lord Snellingly bowed and then stepped closer to Sophia and looked solemnly and intently as he read:
