“Never mind about any of that,” Amelia interrupted. She tugged the sapphire gown out of the unsuspecting lady’s hands and shoved it at Sophia. “Go slip this on so we can see that it fits properly.”
Sophia took the gown and offered Madame Lexington an apologetic smile. “Despite whatever the Duchess of Aversley told you, Madame Lexington, I am most definitely not searching for a gentleman to marry. In fact, I plan never to remarry. No one could replace my husband.”
Madame Lexington’s assistant, completely silent until now, burst into giggles as they glanced at each other.
Madame Lexington turned scarlet as she looked from Sophia to her assistants. “Shh,” she hissed. “Get hold of yourselves.”
Sophia furrowed her brow. Whyever were they giggling like silly fools? “Is something wrong?” she asked them directly. She caught the sharp, dark look Madame Lexington gave them.
“No, Your Grace,” they hurriedly replied as one and with downcast gazes.
Sophia’s gut twisted. They were hiding something. “What is it?” she demanded.
Madame Lexington waved them away and faced Sophia. “They, like most women, thought your husband extremely handsome. They probably had silly hopes that one day he might notice them.”
Sophia thought of her mother’s letter that was tucked away for safekeeping in her dresser. “Hope is never silly,” she said. A lump formed in her throat. Her hope had given her Nathan, and she would never regret that, no matter how short their time together had been.
The fitting of the gown did not take long, but it took the better part of the rest of the day to be bathed and lathered in lotion, and to have her hair dressed and her face painted to perfection. Madame Lexington, it seemed, was not only a renowned seamstress but she was known for her abilities with cosmetics, as well.
She hovered over Sophia with something dark that she insisted Sophia simply had to wear on her eyes. Sophia studied what Madame Lexington was holding. “What is that?”
“Kohl. It will give your eyes a mysterious, alluring look.”
“None of that, then.”
“But―”
“No.” Sophia gave a firm shake of her head. “I want to appear respectable, not alluring.”
Amelia sighed. “Sophia, you are a widow. And not just any widow. Scarsdale was one of the most powerful and wealthiest men in England. You will be granted a wide berth to do as you wish. If you want to appear alluring, I assure you no ballroom doors will be slammed in your face. They will be scampering over themselves to admit you because the women will want to know what you possess that they did not that enabled you to capture Scarsdale’s hand, and the men will simply want to possess you. All you need to do is ensure they understand you desire marriage and not a romp.”
“Unless you do desire a liaison,” Madame Lexington said rather boldly.
“Do hush, Madame Lexington,” Amelia scolded. “Sophia is not the sort of widow to wish for a liaison. She is the loyal sort and wishes for love.”
Sophia’s throat suddenly constricted, but she somehow swallowed. “I don’t wish for either. I will remain loyal to the memory of Nathan as I know he would have wanted and expected me to.”
Madame Lexington and Amelia exchanged a long, not-so-subtle look that Sophia decided to ignore. They simply didn’t care for her decision, and that was all right. “I am entering Society as I promised you, Amelia, and truly I want to do so. But it is so I can make friends and get out in the world. Just because I do not want to replace Nathan doesn’t mean I want to be lonely; therefore, I desire friends, something I previously did not have in spades.” There was no need to announce the fact she had only had one friend before meeting Nathan. Amelia now made two.
“Oh, Sophia,” Amelia muttered but said nothing more.
Madame Lexington tsked several times but also said nothing to her. The dressmaker told her assistants to gather her things, and the ladies scurried to do her bidding. As they were carrying out the seamstress’s supplies, Sophia finally took a look at herself. She stared for a moment in wonderment at what she saw. And then she grinned.
“Madame Lexington, you are a genius and a miracle worker. I actually look passable.” The blue gown hugged her curves in all the right places, but fairly respectably so. Her hair had been drawn high on the crown of her head, and the look actually accentuated her cheekbones quite nicely. Several tendrils had been left loose and were curling about her neck, the contrast of her dark hair to her light skin striking.
There was not a chance she would be able to repeat how lovely Madame Lexington had made her look, but she was eternally grateful that she would look her best tonight.
Madame Lexington surprised her with a hug. “You are like a breath of fresh spring air,” the seamstress said. “Anytime you need a new gown, come to me and I will put you above all others.”
An hour later, the first guest knocked at Amelia and Aversley’s door. Sophia looked nervously at Amelia, who sat beside her on the lush blue velvet couch in the parlor, and Amelia smiled back, then worried her lip for a moment. “I have to tell you something.”
Sophia nodded her encouragement.
“This is more than a dinner party.”
“It is?”
Amelia nodded. “I’ve planned a surprise birthday celebration for you, and I invited some guests to stay here for the weekend. I hope you don’t mind.”
Sophia was touched that Amelia would go to the effort for her. “Who did you invite to celebrate my birthday?”
Amelia offered a rueful smile. “I would have invited your family, but there is only your brother and your father, and your brother could not leave school for this and your father...” Her words died away.
Sophia understood why Amelia would hesitate to invite him. She’d confided to Amelia about her life with Frank, and she was glad her friend had not invited him. He’d never been a true father, and he’d proven he never would be. Once he’d gotten money from Nathan, he had not bothered to write her once or try to see her and make sure she was faring decently. She wanted to surround herself by people who truly cared for her, and he was not one of those people.
“Thank you. So what strangers are here to celebrate my birthday?” she asked with a grin.
Amelia grinned back. “Ellison is coming. I thought you would like that. You are family, after all.”
Sophia was ever so grateful Amelia had referred to Nathan’s cousin as Ellison and not by his new title. She didn’t think she could handle hearing that tonight. “I like Ellison, but please tell me―”
Amelia snorted. “Of course I did not invite his wretched mother! I don’t care if it was a snub or not. That woman is vile.”
Sophia felt the tension drain out of her. “Who else?”
“My brother.”
“I have a vague memory of meeting Lord Harthorne at Nathan’s service.” Remembering that awful day tinged her with sadness.
Amelia patted her hand. “Philip has a heart of gold. He will make you a good friend. I also invited Miss Jemma Adair and her twin sister, two minutes younger, as Jemma loves to say, Miss Anne Adair. They are from America but moved here over a year ago when their parents died and they learned they are the granddaughters of the Duke of Rowan. That’s an interesting story there, but a long one. I’ll tell you all, I promise, but―”
She stopped talking and a beatific smile spread across her face as she jumped from her seat and rushed to Aversley, who had strolled into the room. “You almost missed the party!” She smacked him on the arm, then pecked him on the cheek. “No more hunting before dinner parties for you!”
He answered her command with a chuckle, and then he craned his neck around her and his gaze locked on Sophia. She tensed. She’d not seen Aversley in almost a year. She had insisted that she see no one but Amelia until her mourning was over, but really, it was to give herself time to feel confident and hopefully hold herself with grace.
His eyes widened, and a slow, appreciative smile graced his lips. She could c
learly see why Amelia was smitten. With one smile, he had set her utterly at ease. He strode to her and bowed low, then took her hand and raised it to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her gloved fingers. “Sophia, my dear, you take my breath. But please don’t tell my wife.”
He winked at her as Amelia chuckled behind him and then clapped her hands together like an excited child. Before they could exchange any more words, a cacophony erupted outside the parlor door, and two women and a man spilled into the room. The butler came charging after them, looking as if he could cheerfully strangle someone.
“Your Grace,” he said in stiff tone. “I wanted to announce your guests, but―”
“But I told him I could announce myself,” the petite redheaded woman said as she stepped forward, her curls bouncing. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I’m still having so much trouble getting used to all the formality you English people live by.”
“That’s quite understandable and perfectly all right,” Amelia answered, giving her butler a look of warning when he opened his mouth as if to protest.
Amelia quickly introduced Sophia to the Adair sisters, who both instructed her to call them by their first names, so she asked them to call her by her first name, as well. She instantly liked them. Jemma, with her head full of luxurious red hair, clearly was not used to English rules, as she had put it. Her hair was down and flowing about her shoulders in a million lovely ringlets for the dinner hour, while her sister, Anne, had her blond hair swept up in a perfectly proper chignon.
Sophia next greeted Amelia’s brother, who she realized, now that she was not in a daze of mourning, was a very handsome man. He was tall, though not as tall as Aversley was or Nathan had been. He had lovely russet hair, worn slightly longer than fashionable, and the friendliest brown eyes that fit perfectly with his warm, welcoming smile. He asked her about Duke, which told Sophia that Amelia had been talking to her brother about her, but she didn’t really mind. Knowing Amelia, she probably had it in her head to make a match of them, though Sophia had made it clear she wanted no match.
Everyone took a seat to wait on Ellison, who had yet to arrive, and Sophia ended up on the couch between Lord Harthorne and Jemma. Lord Harthorne turned his back to Jemma, which struck Sophia as odd. Suddenly, Jemma poked her head around Lord Harthorne’s shoulder. “I should warn you, Sophia, that Lord Harthorne is intolerably rude.”
“I am only rude to you,” he grumbled.
Sophia wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that was about, nor did she get the chance to ask because Lord Harthorne surprised her by saying, “You are not at all what I was expecting.”
“I’m not. What were you expecting?”
A flush crept up his neck and spread across his face. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I, er, could not really see your face in church that day, shrouded as it was behind the black veil.”
He sounded genuine enough, but the sudden tick in his cheek bespoke of a lie. Had Nathan described to his friends how she had looked before? She winced at what an awful description that must have been. “Well, people do change,” she mumbled, unsure what to say.
“Scarsdale would have been astonished,” Lord Harthorne said, then reddened further. “I’m terribly sorry. Please forgive me.”
Jemma leaned around Lord Harthorne once more. “I told you he was rude.”
“I am not rude,” he snapped. His gaze turned to Sophia, beseeching her. “Nor am I usually blunt, but your beauty is making me witless.” He said the flirtatious words to Sophia, but his gaze had trailed to Jemma before settling back on her. She wondered briefly if he liked the woman.
“Do you know Byron?” he asked Sophia.
She nodded, thrilled that she actually now did know of Byron. “I’ve read him in Nathan’s library. I adore his work.”
Lord Harthorne smiled. “So do I. When I saw you, I thought of the poem ‘She Walks In Beauty.’” He paused and then began reciting the piece. “‘She walks in beauty, like the night /
Of cloudless climes and starry skies; / And all that’s best of dark and bright / Meet in her aspect and her eyes; / Thus mellowed to that tender light / Which heaven to gaudy day denies...’” His words trailed off, and he shrugged. “Pardon my foolishness. I’m working on becoming less of a romantic and more of a rake.”
Impulsively, she pressed a hand to his arm. “I should hope not. I daresay there are plenty of rakes and not near enough romantics. I’m honored that you would think of such a lovely poem when you saw me.”
“What poem do you think of when you see me?” Jemma demanded of Lord Harthorne.
He flashed a smirk at her. “That’s easy. I don’t think of a poem at all but of The Taming of the Shrew.”
Whatever retort Jemma made was lost on Sophia as the butler came to the door and announced Ellison.
“It cannot be,” Ellison said when Amelia led him over to say hello to Sophia. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it, just as Aversley had done. When Ellison’s gaze met hers, he studied her for a long moment. “You were quite the caterpillar and none of us knew it, especially Scarsdale or he would not have spoken about you the way he did.”
She flinched at the statement, but the dinner bell rang then, so she let it go and allowed herself to be led to the dining room. But the remark bothered her all through the meal and made the food―she was sure it was scrumptious, as everyone around her ate heartily―taste like ashes. She passed much of the dinner speaking with Lord Harthorne, and despite the fact that he was terribly clever, witty, and handsome, she struggled to focus on him and their conversation. Ellison’s comment, in combination with Lord Harthorne’s surprise at her appearance could only mean Nathan truly had spoken poorly of her to his friends, and it occupied her every thought.
Relief washed through her when dinner was adjourned and they went to the parlor. Anne was to play the pianoforte and sing for the ladies, while the men shared a glass of port. Sophia tried to put her worries out of her mind, and she even succeeded for a bit as she, Amelia, and Jemma joined Anne in singing some of the songs. Yet, when the men entered the parlor, her mind returned immediately to what Ellison and Lord Harthorne had each said.
She wanted desperately to ask Ellison, in particular, what he had meant but thought perhaps it would be best to discuss it in private. But as the night wore on, there didn’t seem to be a chance to get him alone.
After a game of charades, Lord Harthorne read a poem by William Wordsworth, “A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal,” and as he was reading it, Sophia could picture the poetry book that contained that poem, Lyrical Ballads, in Nathan’s library. The page had been dog-eared and obviously read many times by the wear of the paper. She’d run her fingers over the words many nights, as she was sure he must have done. Her fingers would tingle as she traced from line to line, her heart aching with every word. Sophia didn’t feel as if she understood the entire meaning behind the poem, but it did not seem a happy one.
Lost in her thoughts, it took her a moment to realize Lord Harthorne had stopped reading and was staring at her with a frown. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
She tried for a smile, but her cheeks would not cooperate. “Nathan had that book in his library. I think he must have loved that poem. It appeared to have been read many times.”
Beside her, Ellison set his port glass down with a clunk. He turned to her with an incredulous expression. “Scarsdale? Read poetry? Clearly you did not know your husband.”
“Be quiet,” Aversley snapped from across the room. “You’ve imbibed too much.”
Sophia stiffened her spine. “I knew him.” She did not like Ellison’s condescending tone or the way he seemed to be trying to belittle the man Nathan had been. “He was the kindest man I ever met. And the bravest. And he had more honor than you. He would never sit here and smear your name, especially if you were not here to defend yourself. He was loyal.”
Ellison’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “What sort of poppycock have you been fed about my cousin?”
; Sophia gasped, and Lord Harthorne rose to his feet and advanced toward Ellison. “I think you better retire for the night. You’re saying things you do not mean.”
“I’m the only one in this room speaking the truth about Scarsdale!” His eyes scanned the parlor in a wild manner, but no one said a word. He stood, swaying on his feet and almost falling back to the couch until Lord Harthorne grabbed him by the arm and steadied him. Ellison wrenched away and swiveled toward Sophia. “If they won’t tell you, then I will. Because if someone doesn’t tell you now, by my honor I swear you will become a laughingstock if you go into Society speaking of how virtuous and honorable Scarsdale was. Do you want to know or do you want to remain oblivious, as everyone here seems pleased to have you?”
Sophia was about to demand he leave when Amelia cried out, “That’s not it at all! We did not want her oblivious. We wanted her happy, and we wanted to be kind.”
Sophia’s heart dropped. For a moment, she struggled to breathe. Disbelief poured through her, but as she sought out Amelia’s gaze and locked her own on it, the sorrow in Amelia’s eyes sent a painful shaft of betrayal through Sophia, shattering her core. Her entire body trembled, but she made herself face Ellison. “I’d have the truth, if you please.” How regal she sounded. How duchess-like. Nathan would have been proud, if it still even mattered.
“He was so honorable that he sat at a table at White’s the night before he died and told me, Harthorne, and Aversley that he had not married you out of love.”
It stung like a thousand wasp bites, and the humiliation burned her skin like a scorching flame. She’d known Nathan had not loved her when he married her, but she had been sure that by the time he’d left for London that he had grown to feel something for her. No, more than something. The cusp of love. Was she an utter fool?
She sought out Aversley to ask him if what Ellison said was true, but she did not have to say the words. He gave her a curt nod, his mouth drawn into a tight line of rage. She raised her chin and turned back to Ellison, refusing to believe Nathan had not loved her or had not been very near to it.
My Seductive Innocent Page 28
