by Mary Balogh
The wars might be over and Walter might be dead, Nathaniel thought, but Sophie was still their friend. They would still watch out for her safety, the four of them, and protect her from the impertinences of the likes of Pinter. It made no difference that Nathaniel was now also her lover—certainly the other three would never know that fact. They could all be trusted to watch over her.
Was it Pinter she had spotted when she was dancing with him? But why would the mere sight of him have had her faltering and then denying that anything was wrong? Would she not have simply grimaced and said something like—
“You will never guess whom I just saw”? She could have shared her distaste with him. They had both known the man, after all.
And why had she presented Pinter to her sister-in-law-even if he had asked? It would have been far better if she had merely inclined her head to him with icy courtesy and turned back to the table. He would have got the message and left her alone in the future.
Well, he would leave her alone in the future if he knew what was good for him.
Miss Armitage, Nathaniel noticed with sudden amusement, was describing to him in great detail the bonnet her mama had helped her pick out just that morning. It was apparently the most darling bonnet ever fashioned and worth every penny of the exorbitant price.
“Papa may disagree when the bill arrives on his desk, Sare,” young Armitage said with a chuckle.
“Well, there you are wrong,” she said, on her dignity. “Papa said that no expense is to be spared in showing me to very best advantage this spring.”
And then Nathaniel was further amused when another young man touched Lewis Armitage on the shoulder and proceeded to speak softly but quite audibly to him.
“I wonder if I might prevail upon you to present me to your sister, Armitage,” he said.
The young Viscount Perry, Rex’s brother-in-law. The gentleman who had taken Georgie for a lemonade during the waltz. He and Armitage were close in age and obviously knew each other.
Armitage performed the introductions and Perry secured the next set with Miss Armitage. She looked at the young man, Nathaniel was interested to note, with as much bright worship in her eyes as she had shown to himself. She was perhaps a young lady of some sense after all. She had come to London to find a husband. She was going to consider all her possible choices at least during her first ball.
She could do a great deal worse than Perry. But then so could Georgie.
This marriage-mart business could easily give a man a permanent headache, Nathaniel thought. He looked forward with some longing to the following night. Midnight, she had said. Twenty-four hours away. An eternity.
“Lean a little more heavily on my arm if you wish, Sophie,” Kenneth said. “It will be cooler in the ballroom. We will find you a seat in a moment.”
“Are you going to faint, Sophie?” Moira asked, her smiles and laughter gone now that they had left the supper room behind. “Kenneth will carry you if you are.”
“What nonsense!” Sophia said, pulling herself together. “But thank you both anyway. The supper room was very stuffy. This is very foolish. I never faint.” She laughed shakily.
“It is not foolish,” Moira said. “I was sitting with Rex and Clayton and Clarissa. Rex saw you with that man and muttered something that should have had me blushing at the very least, and he started to get up. But Kenneth and Eden had reacted faster. Who was he?”
“A particularly unpleasant former lieutenant,” Kenneth said. “All of us, almost without exception, had some quarrel with him, but he had a particular grudge against Walter Armitage, Moira, because Walter—with the concurrence of several more of us, I must add—blocked a promotion he had been expecting. He had no business approaching you like that, Sophie. He was fortunate the setting was so very public. One of us would have planted him a facer.”
“I feel better now,” Sophia said. “Really, it was just the heat. I did not mind so very much Lieutenant Pinter’s greeting me.” She could not repress a shudder at the memory of turning to find that it was his hand that was resting on her shoulder.
“But one could see that you did, Sophie,” Kenneth said. “And so you should have. He even trapped you into presenting him to Walter’s sister-in-law. I might plant him that facer yet.”
“It is really quite all right,” Sophia said.
“Some of your color is returning,” Moira said, patting her hand. “Poor Sophie. Have you seen him since your husband’s passing?”
“Yes,” Sophia admitted after a moment’s hesitation. She smiled. “He is responsible, I do believe, for my continued fame. It was he who came forward last year to inform the ton that Walter risked his life to save his when he was a mere ensign and Walter was a major. He even painted himself in a less than glorious light with the result that Walter appeared correspondingly more heroic.” She swallowed. “It was very obliging of him.” It was no such thing, of course. She knew very well why he had told such a blatant lie.
“The devil!” Kenneth muttered. “That was Pinter, Sophie? And now he believes he has a perfect right to accost you before the whole ton whenever he pleases?”
“I do not often appear before the whole ton, Kenneth,” Sophia said. “I live a very quiet life. Do not make a deal of what happened just now, I beg you. Really it was nothing.”
“You are too good-natured by half, Sophie,” he said. “We will keep an eye on you from now on, you may be sure. He will not bother you further.”
“You have four champions, Sophie,” Moira said with a chuckle. “Nathaniel was getting up too at the same moment as Rex. I saw him.”
“The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse as my devoted knights,” Sophia said gaily. “What more could any woman ask of life?”
“That is the spirit, Sophie,” Kenneth said. “Do you still need a chair? You are looking much better.”
They had been strolling about the almost deserted ballroom, though a steady stream of guests was beginning to return.
“I am perfectly fine,” she said, releasing her hold of their arms. “Thank you so much. I am fortunate to have such good friends.”
“If he bothers you again, Sophie, when none of us are present to rescue you,” Kenneth said, “you must let us know. One of us will pay a call on Mr. Boris Pinter. Or perhaps all four of us. That would put the wind up him!”
Sophia laughed lightly. She had no doubt at all that Mr. Boris Pinter would be appearing in her sitting room the very next morning, another letter—another love letter—in his pocket. And another price—a higher price—on his lips. Tonight’s humiliation would doubtless raise that price even higher. How would she pay it? She drew a slow breath to quell the panic.
“There is Beatrice returning with Eden,” she said. “I shall go and join her. Thank you again.” She smiled at both of them before making her way toward her sister-in-law.
Nathaniel had been getting up to come to her rescue too, she thought. She wished it were tonight he was coming to her. But tonight would be over by the time the ball came to an end, of course. Tomorrow seemed an eternity away. Between now and tomorrow night... No, she would not think of it.
Eden was smiling. His very blue eyes looked searchingly into hers. “Sophie?” he said. “You have recovered from your near faint?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said. “It was very silly of me.”
Beatrice was turning away to watch Sarah come toward her on Nathaniel’s arm, Lewis with them.
“If you ever need a pair of fists to be put to use on your behalf, Sophie,” Eden said, leaning closer to her and speaking for her ears only, “mine are always available.”
“Thank you,” she said, laughing. “But it was merely the heat, you know.”
She could see that he did not believe her any more than Kenneth had.
NINE
NATHANIEL HAD BEEN UP and out riding early, but he joined his sister and his cousin for a late breakfast.
Georgina, as might have been expected, was glowing with memories of the bal
l the night before. She had missed dancing only two sets, and both of those had been waltzes. And the first of them she had spent with Viscount Perry and the second with Viscount Rawleigh, who had agreed to allow her to visit his nursery and play with his infant son. Of course it was beaux more than children, though she passionately loved them, that were on Georgie’s mind this morning. She marveled at how many gentlemen had been kind enough to dance with her. She could scarce believe that two of last night’s partners had actually sent her posies this morning. And she was to go driving in the park this afternoon with the Honorable Mr. Lewis Armitage.
She was very pleased with life this morning, and Nathaniel was pleased for her.
Lavinia was a different matter, of course. She too had had a partner for every set except the second—Margaret had made it very clear to her that having refused Lord Pelham’s offer for no good reason, she could not then dance with any other gentleman. But she had attracted a good deal of notice—some of it from gentlemen who were very eligible indeed. She had received one posy and two huge bouquets during the morning. But she chose to think it all silly nonsense.
“They probably sent flowers to every lady with whom they danced,” she said of the three gentlemen concerned. “They have nothing better to do with their money, I suppose.”
And having dismissed so carelessly three prospective suitors—one of them was the same gentleman with whom she had refused to drive in Hyde Park this afternoon—she turned her conversation away from the ball.
“I wish to call upon Sophie this afternoon,” she announced. “She will go walking with me in the park, I daresay, and we will have a far more interesting and sensible conversation than I might expect from any of the gentlemen I met last evening. You will escort me to her house, Nat?”
Nathaniel raised his eyebrows. “Would it not be better to send a note and suggest another day?” he asked. “Perhaps she will be busy or even from home this afternoon, Lavinia.”
“Well then,” she said, “we will return here and be none the worse off except that we will have had some air and a comfortable drive. She said I might come.”
Sophie was altogether too good-natured, Nathaniel thought, sighing and getting to his feet. He would not wish Lavinia on his worst enemy—and Sophie fit very high in the opposite category. But he wanted to see her himself, he had to admit. He would see her tonight, of course, but he wanted to reassure himself before then that she was none the worse for last evening’s unpleasant experience. Ken had told them this morning that she had made light of the fact that Pinter had forced his attentions on her, that she had claimed the stuffiness of the room as the cause of her near faint. Ken did not believe it for a moment. Neither did the rest of them. But Ken had also said that Pinter had spread stories to enhance Walter Armitage’s fame—and his own—the year before. That would explain the fact that Sophie had not given him the cold set-down he had deserved. Doubtless she felt she owed him something.
She did not, of course. As Rex had pointed out, Pinter had never been an ensign in the Peninsula. He had been a lieutenant when he had arrived there. And none of them was aware of any occasion when Armitage had saved his life. Pinter, in his usual opportunistic way, had merely shouldered his way into someone else’s glory.
“We will take the carriage to Sloan Terrace, then,” Nathaniel said to Lavinia. “If Sophie is not at home, we will walk back and you may have all the air and exercise you wish for, Lavinia.”
She smiled dazzlingly at him. “If you think that is a threat, Nat,” she said, “you are doomed to disappointment. Of course the walk would be in your company, which somewhat diminishes its attraction, but we would both probably survive the experience.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed, setting down his napkin. “Will one hour be sufficient time for you to get ready?”
“More than enough,” she said amiably. “And for you, Nat?”
He had long ago conceded her need to have the last word in their verbal exchanges. He merely pursed his lips and left the room.
They arrived at Sloan Terrace an hour and a half later. Nathaniel left Lavinia in the carriage while he got down to knock on the door and ask if Sophie was at home and receiving. But the door opened above him just as he was setting his foot on the bottom step, and he looked up to discover that Boris Pinter was leaving the house, looking elegant and confident and even handsome in a certain oily, toothy way.
The devil! Nathaniel’s hand closed more tightly about his cane.
“Ah, Major Gascoigne,” Pinter said, smiling broadly. “You too are calling upon the charming Sophie?”
“Pinter?” Nathaniel inclined his head very slightly and assumed his frostiest manner. It was in his mind to demand what the man was doing here and to question the familiarity of his reference to a superior officer’s widow. But he restrained himself. He would need to talk to Sophie first. Perhaps she had not even admitted the man.
“You will find her looking her usual lovely self,” Pinter said.
Nathaniel found the handle of his quizzing glass and raised it indolently to his eye. “Indeed?” he said faintly before turning away to hand the waiting butler his card. “Ask Mrs. Armitage if she would be so good as to receive Miss Bergland and Sir Nathaniel Gascoigne,” he said, stepping inside.
He did not watch Pinter walk away. They must pay a call on the man if he had the presumption to press his attentions upon Sophie again, Ken had said during the morning ride. All four of them—he had chuckled at the suggestion. It would be his distinct pleasure, Nathaniel thought now. And if by some good fortune there were any fisticuffs to be engaged in, he was going to be first in line.
Mrs. Armitage, the butler informed him, would be delighted to receive her visitors.
Lavinia was chuckling when Nathaniel went back to hand her down from the carriage. “Far be it from me to compliment you in the normal way of things, Nat,” she said, “but that was a stellar performance. I expected to see icicles hanging from his chin and his eyebrows by the time you had finished with him. What a deadly weapon a quizzing glass can be. Who on earth was he?”
“No one you would care to know,” he said.
Sophie came to meet them at the door of her sitting room, her comfortable smile on her lips, her hands extended to take Lavinia’s.
“You did come,” she said. “I am so glad.”
She looked her usual cheerful self.
“I have been all alone,” she said, “and just longing for a companion with whom to go walking. It is such a glorious day. I was about to take my maid, but she hates walking anywhere farther than from the kitchen to her bedchamber on the upper floor. Lass, get down. That is far too fine a dress for you to rest your paws on.”
“Oh, but he is such a lovely dog,” Lavinia said, fondling the dog’s alert ears. “No—Lass. She is such a lovely dog. May she come walking with us?”
“Try to stop her,” Sophie said with a laugh—and darted a glance at him, Nathaniel saw. She was wondering, of course, if he had seen Pinter leave her house, and was hoping he had not. Or at least that was how he interpreted her enthusiasm and her lie—she had not been alone—and her failure to look fully at him.
“You are not busy, then, Sophie?” he asked. “I may safely leave Lavinia in your care?”
“In her care?” Lavinia exploded into sound. “I am four and twenty, Nat. Sophie is not exactly eighty. Can you not simply concede that you are leaving us in company together?”
Sophie’s smile looked far more genuine now as she turned it on him—and very amused. “She has a point, you must admit, Nathaniel,” she said. “But do run along. We three girls—Lass, Lavinia, and I—will do very nicely together. There are very few bandits in the park, I have been assured.”
They were in feminine league against him, he could see. Laughing at him. Even the dog was prancing about the two of them and ignoring him entirely.
He grinned and then chuckled. “Come back with Lavinia for tea, Sophie,” he said. “Rex and Catherine are coming and Marga
ret and John. I will be able to send you home later in the carriage.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Thank you. I shall have to run upstairs for my bonnet, Lavinia. I shall be only a moment.”
He was dismissed. He left the house and climbed back into his carriage after giving his coachman directions to take him to White’s.
Why did she not want him to know that Pinter had called? Perhaps she really had not admitted him? Or was she just afraid that he would make a fuss as Ken had last evening? But if Pinter was calling on her in her own home, it was high time someone made a fuss—someone with the sort of persuasive powers a man like Pinter would understand.
He would confront her about it tonight. This was something she did not need to handle alone. But Sophie was so damned independent.
Tonight. He closed his eyes. Eden had been talking this morning about some card party he assumed Nathaniel would attend with him. He had chuckled quite derisively when his friend had pleaded the necessity of having a decent night’s sleep after last night.
He could hardly believe how much he looked forward to tonight, Nathaniel thought, how much he longed for Sophie again. He laughed softly to himself. He hoped his appetites would have quietened down somewhat by the time he must return home to Bowood for the summer.
Sophia did not go in to tea at Upper Brook Street, even though she walked there with Lavinia and was tempted to accept the invitation. Perhaps, she thought before rejecting the notion, she could take the rest of just this one day for herself.
She stooped down to attach Lass’s leash to her collar and straightened up to smile at Lavinia. “This has been so very pleasant,” she said. “I shall look forward immensely to our visit to the library tomorrow morning.”
“And so shall I,” Lavinia said fervently. “You cannot know how I have been starved for sensible friends, Sophie. I hope I do not presume too much. I am sure Nat believes I do.” She rolled her eyes skyward.
