Chapter Four

 

 

 

Gentlemen? Sophie had a momentary qualm about what Lavinia would say, then decided that if she was not told it could not hurt her. Even so, it was a long time since she had been at a social event with gentlemen who were not of George and Lavinia’s circle – and on those occasions she was most definitely not expected to put herself forward and join in the conversation.

She must have let her feeling show because Venetia came over to reassure her. ‘Please do not be concerned that Lady Haydon is not here to chaperone you, Miss Haydon – I am more than happy to take that role. I have to confess that I was slightly economical with the truth. I assured her that the literary group was ladies only and omitted to mention that the gentlemen arrive later.’

She took Sophie's arm and guided her towards the door, chatting as she went. ‘I hold open house on Thursday evenings. Quite informal, you know. Some of Charles’s colleagues like to drop in after business at the House and some other friends call on their way to or from clubs or the theatre.’ She paused at the doors which Spratte was holding open and added, ‘One never knows who will be here, but I am sure there will be no one that Lady Haydon could possibly take exception to.’

Objection? Lavinia would be in a seventh heaven if she saw the gentlemen who turned from their conversation to bow to their hostess and her friends, Sophie thought. Venetia began to introduce them and she realised that the majority of them were prominent in government circles although there were also several well-known men about Town, including one earl and the tall figure of Lord Alvanley, the most striking member of the Dandy set.

A rapid scan of the room revealed no sight of the Duke, which was, of course, a great relief. Her natural reluctance to see him again explained the sinking feeling in her stomach, she told herself firmly, although she was far too honest to truly believe it.

‘Here is my husband.’ Venetia swept her forward towards a tall, very distinguished man in early middle age. ‘Mr Lovell, may I make known to you Miss Haydon, who has just joined my group.’

‘I am delighted to meet you, Miss Haydon, I do hope this is the first of many visits to our house.’ He bowed over her hand. ‘Now, to whom may I introduce you?’ He bore Sophie off and she found herself surrounded by a group of young men, all vying to fetch her a glass of ratafia or a lobster patty.

Sophie was not entirely sure that she was really awake. Everybody was being so kind, so attentive, interested in what she was saying – and she could not help noticing the admiring glances she was receiving. She felt transformed in the new gown and when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the long pier glasses she could scarcely believe she was looking at herself. The woman who looked back at her had sparkling eyes, burnished hair and the light was dancing on the soft fabric of her gown. After the dullness, the repression, the constant disapproval of life in Bruton Street, this was like a happy dream.

She was giving herself a surreptitious pinch when there was a flurry around the doors, evidently a late arrival as she could hear Venetia’s voice over the hum of conversation. ‘There you are at last. You promised me you would be here an hour since.’

Sophie was standing with her back to the entrance, but as she glanced up she could see it clearly reflected in the long glass opposite. Hal Wyatt stood framed by the doorway, his glance flicking swiftly over the room as if seeking something – or someone. She saw his gaze pass over her, then focus on the mirror and she saw the sudden recognition and dawning pleasure on his face. He had been looking for me?

She felt her mouth go dry as she stared into the glass and he made his way across the room towards her. It seemed to take forever for him to reach her side: he stopped to exchange greetings with several gentlemen, kissed the hands of the bluestockings who had told her about their plans to retire to Twickenham and left them laughing, and relieved a passing footman of two glasses from his tray.

Sophie could not even move when he arrived behind her, so close that she was certain she could feel his breath stirring the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. ‘Miss Haydon? he said, very softly and she turned to find herself staring fixedly at his neck cloth. After several seconds he remarked, ‘I am gratified that you admire my cravat, Miss Haydon. This knot is called the Waterfall and is excessively difficult to achieve.’

It broke the spell and with a little gasp of laughter Sophie looked up into his face, into his warm blue gaze. ‘Good evening, Your Grace.’

‘Good evening, Miss Haydon.’ He handed her one of the glasses he held. ‘May I say that you are looking quite ravishing this evening?’

Sophie felt her blush deepen. ‘Please do not, Your Grace. I do not know how to... flirt.’ Her hand trembled and a little droplet of liquid splashed on to her gloved fingers.

Instantly the Duke caught her hand in his, steadied it and gently tipped the glass back to the vertical before releasing her. ‘Is that why you ran away from me at Lady Newnham’s – and why you cut me dead last time we met?’

Sophie shook her head. How was she going to explain herself? She had never felt so confused and gauche in her life.

 

‘I can assure you, Miss Haydon, that I am not flirting, merely telling you the truth. You look lovely,’ Hal assured her.

‘Oh, no, Your Grace.’ Her smile was forced and she was obviously making an attempt at lightness. ‘It is merely my new gown.’ She took a deep sip from her glass and he realised she had thought it ratafia, not champagne. The bubbles must have fizzed up her nose and tickled the back of her throat because she sneezed then, defiantly, she took another good sip.

His cousin Venetia was quite right, there was a mystery here. Miss Haydon was not so young that she could not have encountered outright admiration, let alone flirtation before, yet the naïveté of her remark about her new gown was almost that of a young lady just out. And his remark about her evasive behaviour at their previous meetings had obviously hit a raw nerve.

He could not let it lie. ‘Come, come, Miss Haydon. I refuse to believe that you are not skilled in the gentle art of flirtation, you could not be so cruel as to deny my sex this harmless dalliance.’ He was taken aback by her response. Her face paled and he could have sworn there was the glint of tears at the back of her green eyes.

Damn. That was clumsy of me.

Sophie had herself under control almost immediately. She said, somewhat stiffly, ‘Please do not tease me, Your Grace. I do not go out into Society much and I do not understand the rules that you gentlemen play by.’ The hint of defensiveness he had noticed in her early remarks was clearer now.

Hal lowered his voice. ‘I beg your pardon. Is there something wrong, Miss Haydon? Please believe I do not seek to tease or to annoy you – but if I may offer you my services in any way..?’

‘No, I thank you. Just… No more questions, Your Grace.’ Sophie turned away, clearly relieved to see Venetia approaching.

His cousin sent him a flickering glance as though she sensed something amiss. ‘I am sorry to lose you so early in the evening, Miss Haydon, but your carriage is at the door and I understand from the footman that you are expected at home.’

Venetia returned five minutes later and immediately sought him out, cutting with ruthless charm into his conversation. ‘Hal, I need a word with you. Excuse me, gentlemen.’ She seized him firmly by the sleeve and steered him into Charles’s study, closing the door with some emphasis.

‘Hal, what are you about? I could tell from across the room that you were upsetting Miss Haydon, yet I could have sworn that she was pleased to see you at first. What have you discovered?’

Hal dropped into one of Charles’s comfortable wing chairs and stared thoughtfully into the embers of the fire while Venetia paced up and down, her long skirts swishing on the rug. Finally he said, ‘I was clumsy with her and I regret that very much. But I have discovered that somebody has hurt that young woman very deeply indeed and I am determined to find out who, and in what way.’

 

The next day Lavinia drove Sophie almost distracted with the barrage of questions she fired at her over the breakfast table.

‘Do concentrate and tell me who was there last night. Really, Sophie, I would have expected you to have paid more attention to the company: they could be of the greatest importance to Charlotte and Grace. Are you sure you have mentioned everyone?’ Lavinia demanded, her fingers busy in the pages of the Peerage as she assessed each guest at the Literary group for their connections, pedigree and possible usefulness to her daughters in their come-out. She pulled a face at the mention of the two bluestockings despite their impeccable breeding. ‘They are of no use to me,’ she snapped. ‘Were there no matrons there? No one with daughters making a come-out to whom you could introduce Charlotte and Grace?’

‘I have only just met them, Lavinia, it would have seemed very forward to have been angling for invitations,’ Sophie protested, but her mind was not on the female members of the Literary Circle at all. Instead, she kept returning over and over again to that endless moment when her eyes had met Hal’s in the looking glass, when he had seemed to look into her heart and her mind. It was all an illusion of course, but she had hardly slept, tossing restless in bed as she remembered his breath on the nape of her neck, imagined herself in his arms, held tight against that broad chest...

‘There is no necessity to be quite so snappish,’ Lavinia said. ‘We must call this morning, leave cards. I would not have Mrs Lovell think I have neglected the least observance after her condescension in inviting you. Now, wake up and pay attention, Sophie. You look quite washed out.’

Any further reproaches were mercifully cut short by the arrival at the breakfast table of the master of the house. In Sophie’s opinion her half-brother George was a man whose main concern was to have an easy life. He was rarely seen at home unless his wife demanded his attendance at some function or summoned him to rebuke his unsatisfactory sister and he belonged to a number of the rather less fashionable clubs, enjoying heavy eating, drinking and card play. This morning, following an unfortunate combination of lobster and a rather poor port, his normally florid complexion was positively choleric.

Lavinia, who was always most attentive to her husband, instantly switched her attention from Sophie to her spouse. ‘Good morning, Sir George, shall I ring for fresh coffee?’

He frowned at Sophie, grunted at his wife and dropped heavily into his chair at the head of the breakfast table with a grimace. ‘Coffee? Nonsense. William! Fetch me a jug of porter and a good beefsteak.’

Sophie winced as Lavinia began to chatter, quite ignoring signs of rising ire from Sir George. ‘Sophie has finally made a quite excellent connection, my dear. It will be of such utility to your daughters in their come-out.’

‘What? What? Sophie out and about? Is this sensible? Is this wise, Lady Haydon? What if her Disgrace were to be remembered? What of Charlotte and Grace’s chances then?’ He took a deep draught of porter and glowered at Sophie over the rim of the tankard.

‘Of course, that must be at the forefront of my mind,’ Lavinia soothed. ‘But she is aware of her responsibilities to her nieces in this matter. Are you not, Sophie?’

‘Yes, Lavinia,’ Sophie responded meekly, conscious of the suspicious look this elicited from her brother. ‘Shall I go and make sure the carriage is ready for you, Lavinia?’

Without waiting for her sister-in-law’s curt nod, Sophie slipped out, her pleasant daydreams of Hal now overlaid by anxiety about what might happen if Lavinia met either Venetia or Mr Lovell. What if the politician remarked upon her presence at supper with male guests the evening before? No matter how dazzling the connection, such a comment would be enough to cause Lavinia to break it. And what if their visit coincided with a visit to his cousin by the Duke? She could hardly cut him dead a second time and if he spoke to her Lavinia would be sure to realise that they had met before. How long was he in London for?

Her brain was still buzzing with questions and worries as the barouche made its way to Albemarle Street. To her enormous relief the Lovells were not at home and Lavinia left cards, carefully turning over the requisite corners to show that both of them had called. With the insecurity of one not born to her present station, Lavinia had learned the books of etiquette by heart and followed them scrupulously.

 

On their return Lavinia was instantly swept upstairs by the girls’ governess with the news that Miss Charlotte was in hysterics because her dearest friend and rival, Miss Portman, had accepted a most flattering proposal of marriage and that before she was even officially out. Charlotte’s wails of chagrin were faintly audible, even from the hallway.

Sophie stood alone on the chequerboard marble, idly unbuttoning her pelisse, relishing the sudden withdrawal of Lavinia’s attention. There was a discreet cough behind her and she turned to find William the footman proffering a salver with a folded note upon it. ‘This came whilst you were out, Miss Haydon.’

She looked at the direction on the cover but it was in an unfamiliar hand. Could it be from Hal? Surely not.

Trying not to glance around guiltily she went to her room and shut the door, broke the seal and spread the page. As she should have guessed, it proved to be a hasty note from Venetia. She was so sorry, she explained, but her sister had been brought to bed of twins and needed her help with the other children. She doubted that she would be back in Town for a fortnight and would therefore have to cancel the Literary evenings until further notice.

How kind of her to let me know. But… Oh, who are you trying to deceive? You hoped it was from Hal.

But why would he be writing to her? It would be highly improper and besides, he had given her not the slightest reason to believe he might want to. She blew her nose briskly, got up and went to the mirror to take off her hat and tidy her hair. Rakes – even reformed rakes, no doubt – flirted as a matter of course. It was her own lack of experience and sheltered life that led her to refine too much upon a slight acquaintance and some gallantry on his part. She must not be deceived into reading the slightest partiality for her in his manner either at Lady Newnham’s or last night.

She stopped suddenly, biting her lower lip as she recalled their conversation. He had seemed very intrigued by her reticence, had hinted that he guessed there was some mystery. What if he made it his business to enquire about her and learned of the reason for her retreat from Society four years before, so soon after her come-out? If Hal Wyatt knew she was ruined, would he assume she was an easy conquest? She could not bear the thought that he might think less of her – or, even worse – that he might treat her differently if he knew of her history.

 

The next Thursday night Lavinia and the girls took the carriage to a ball leaving Sophie, as usual, on her own in the house. Without Venetia’s literary meeting to look forward to, she settled by the fire with a novel she had been looking forward to for days, only to be interrupted by the butler with a note before she had finished the first chapter.

It was from Mrs Ashdowne, another member of Venetia’s reading group, offering her a very late invitation to her house in Montague Square. She was hosting the gathering in Venetia’s absence, she wrote, and apologised for overlooking its latest member. She would therefore be delighted to see dear Miss Haydon should she be able to come at such late notice.

Sophie rushed upstairs to change into her dove-grey silk and within the half hour had hailed a cab and was on her way to Mrs Ashdowne’s residence in Montague Square. It was not until she settled back against the rather musty upholstery and the vehicle lurched off that it occurred to her that Lavinia would have had no objection to the outing and therefore she could have taken Fanny with her and spared her maid another evening sewing by the kitchen fire.

 

It was a pleasant meeting, although the supper afterwards was a quiet affair, with only the ladies present. Conversation flowed and Sophie began to feel she was getting to know the other members of the circle and to make friends. Unfortunately it proved too enjoyable – with alarm she heard the clock strike eleven, nearly an hour later than she had intended to leave from this distant part of Mayfair. With a smile she gulled the Ashdownes’ servants with her usual story of a waiting carriage and slipped out into the night before they realised she had none waiting.

It was a raw evening now, not frosty, but with a penetrating drizzle that soon dampened the hem of her gown. Sophie bit her lip in frustration at her foolishness in not taking her maid and asking the footman to secure her a carriage. Now there was not a cab to be seen and worse, as she hurried down Gloucester Street towards Portman Square, she could hear the sound of loud male voices and raucous laughter approaching. She remembered that the Life Guards’ stables were situated only a block away off Dorset Street and it sounded as if a group of men were returning there after an evening’s entertainment. A lone female on the street would be the target of vulgar cat-calls, at the very least.

She dare not risk it. Sophie ran down the deserted street and around the corner into the respectable, well-lit surroundings of Portman Square. She paused there to catch her breath, wondering if the resident night watchman might be bribed to find her a cab. The drizzle increased in intensity as the wind rose, tossing the shrubs in the central garden, but she could see the flicker of light from the lantern hanging outside his little shelter on the far side of the Square. Sophie pulled her cloak and hood more closely round her, shrinking into the warm wool as she began to walk briskly towards the Charley’s cabin.

The silence of the Square was broken by the sound of carriage wheels on the cobbles. Sophie stepped back and waited at the kerb in case the vehicle turned left across her path, but instead it stopped abruptly beside her, a heavily muffled man jumped down from the box, seized her and bundled her into the carriage. She could not even catch her breath to scream before the door slammed shut.