He met her glance suddenly and they half smiled at each other. He wondered if she would think him impossibly demanding if he went to her again tonight. He would find a moment later and ask her, he decided. He would also remind her that she was quite at liberty to say no. He hoped she would not say no.
“I did not bring my companion with me this evening,” Lady Gullis was saying. “One has to have a companion for appearance’s sake, you know. She was once my governess, but she has grown deaf, poor dear, and tires easily. I promised I would be quite safe without her this evening, and persuaded her to go to bed early. She sleeps like the dead.” She laughed lightly. “I am sure I will be safe on the streets of Mayfair alone in my carriage later tonight, will I not, sir? I have a stout coachman and footman.”
Some situations were quite unavoidable. “I am sure my sister and brother-in-law will be happy to see my charges safely home,” he said. “I will be pleased to set your mind at rest, if I may, ma‘am, and accompany you in your carriage.”
“You are most kind,” she said, and for a brief moment her fingers curled beneath the frill at the cuff of his shirt-sleeve.
But his attention had been quite effectively distracted. Boris Pinter had appeared in the open doorway between the drawing room and the music room. He stood there for a few moments, looking about him, assessing the situation, a smile of what appeared to be genuine amusement on his lips.
Nathaniel removed his arm from beneath the lady’s playing fingers, set his hand against the back of her waist, and propelled her firmly in the direction of Eden and Sophie and Lavinia.
Sophia, having decided that she was going to enjoy herself, was doing so. The necessity of moving about the rooms, working her way into a group, had been taken from her. It was something she was perfectly capable of doing, but something she never enjoyed. She always imagined—and was never quite convinced that she was not merely imagining it—that the members of the particular group she chose did not want her there. Which was absurd, of course. Every single guest at every single entertainment was doing the same thing she was doing.
This evening she did not even have to move from the spot where she had first come to a halt inside the drawing room. While Sarah had been borne away by Viscount Perry—there seemed to be a genuine spark of mutual interest there, Sophia thought—and Beatrice and Edwin decided to stroll through all three rooms to see who else was present, she herself was immediately detained by Lavinia, who came to inform her that she had read some of Blake’s poems, on Sophie’s recommendation, and had been amazed and delighted by them.
And then Eden joined them and amused them with a slightly naughty story about a duel that had been narrowly averted last evening at a card party he had attended. At least Sophia suspected there was naughtiness behind it, since it seemed very unlikely that the cause of the quarrel had
really
been an uncomplimentary remark the elder man had made about the younger’s mother—although that was Eden’s laundered version of events. In the Peninsula he would have told the story with all its bald and sordid details. Tonight he was on his best behavior—for Lavinia’s sake, of course. Though Lavinia was not taken in for a moment.
“It is so gratifying,” she said, smiling sweetly at Eden, “to be treated like a half-wit, Lord Pelham. Is it not, Sophie? Was the, ah,
mother
at least worthy of the quarrel, my lord?”
Eden merely grinned at her and reminded her that there were certain things of which a true lady pretended to be quite ignorant.
“I daresay,” Lavinia said, her sweet smile considerably more dazzling, “you would be willing to call me no true lady in Nat’s hearing, my lord?”
“Oh, the devil!” Eden said quite outrageously. “Nat always had a quite wicked sword arm. Did I call you no true lady? Did I, Sophie? My memory has become shockingly unreliable. I have no recollection of saying any such thing. But if I did, I do most humbly apologize, ma‘am.”
They were, Sophia realized after the first few minutes of suchlike conversation, greatly enjoying themselves. She looked from one to the other of them with considerable interest. They were probably both convinced that they thoroughly disliked each other.
He
was not here, she thought after a careful perusal of the drawing room. And so she might relax and allow the evening to take its own pleasant course. There was, however, the sight of Nathaniel with Lady Gullis to be contended with. At first they were in a group together, but soon enough they were in a tête-à-tête, and not long after that they were even touching. She had a hand on his sleeve, but it was not properly positioned. Her fingertips dipped over the edge of his cuff to touch his hand.
Lady Gullis was a wealthy and lovely widow with a growing reputation as a flirt. Her riches and her position in society preserved her respectability, of course. Tonight, it was as clear as if a majordomo had appeared in the room and announced it in stentorian tones, that the lady had set her sights on Nathaniel. And of course they looked quite startlingly beautiful together.
“I believe,” Eden said in Sophia’s ear at a moment when Lavinia’s attention had been taken by a passing acquaintance, “our Nat is captivated, Sophie.”
“And you are looking decidedly smug,” she said. “I suppose you set it up, Eden?”
“But of course.” He grinned wickedly at her. “I am a matchmaker extraordinaire, Sophie. At your service, ma‘am. Whom may I find for you?”
“You, Eden,” she said, tapping him sharply on the arm, “may mind your manners and your own business too.”
“Now, Sophie,” he said, looking comically aggrieved, “the happiness of my friends is my business. Are you not my friend?”
Fortunately Lavinia turned her attention back to them at that moment.
She was horribly jealous, Sophia thought, and despised herself. What did she have with which to compete against the likes of Lady Gullis? Not one single solitary thing, that was what. And how silly it was even to think of competing. She had no claims on Nathaniel, and the sooner she put any illusions to the contrary from her mind, the better.
But even as she was thinking such sensible thoughts, she glanced to the doorway between the drawing room and the music room and froze.
How very wrong to have assumed that just because he had not been in the drawing room he was therefore not in the house. He was standing there, looking directly at her, his amused, mocking smile on his lips. And then he looked about at the people close to her. Eden was right beside her, of course. But by some unhappy coincidence both Kenneth and Rex were close by too. And so was Nathaniel.
He would not fail to notice that and be inflamed by it. He might even think it was deliberate, that she had gathered them about her as guards. Would he truly believe she could have done anything so insane?
And then her stomach lurched with alarm as Nathaniel, just at the worst possible moment, joined her group and proceeded to present Lady Gullis to both Lavinia and herself.
Go
away,
Sophia wanted to screech at both Eden and Nathaniel.
Move back,
she wanted to cry out to Rex and Kenneth.
I cannot bear to have him antagonized.
She had counted so much on having a few weeks of freedom.
She was aware, even as she smiled at Lady Gullis and uttered some courtesy she would not have been able to recall one minute later even if she had tried, that Boris Pinter was approaching at leisurely pace. She was aware too that both Eden and Nathaniel had stepped closer to her on either side—bringing with them the illusion of safety.
Oh, it
had
been planned. Damn Nathaniel! Damn him all to hell and back.
Nathaniel kept talking. Lady Gullis, with charming condescension, complimented Lavinia on her appearance and asked her if she had yet received vouchers for Almack’s.
Nathaniel hoped Sophie would not realize they were deliberately protecting her. Rex and Ken were showing every sign of joining their group. But that would look just too obvious. It should be unnecessary anyway. Pinter would surely take the hint and refrain from upsetting her as he had two evenings before.
But Pinter did not take the hint. And when all was said and done, there was very little Sophie’s friends could do about it short of drawing unwelcome attention her way by creating a scene.
“Sophie.” Pinter bowed to her, favoring her with his very white smile. “I am hurt that you have sought out your other friends before me.” He reached out and took her left hand in his. He glanced down at her ring finger and then placed his lips to the very spot where her wedding ring usually rested.
Yes, Nathaniel saw, the finger was definitely bare.
“Mr. Pinter,” she said—in her usual steady, cheerful voice.
“Pinter.” Eden was using his most haughty, languid voice. His quizzing glass was in his hand and halfway to his eye. “Just the chap who will know where I might find the card room. Do come and show me.”
But Boris Pinter was not to be distracted. “Sophie,” he said, lowering her hand but not releasing it, “you are with some of your dearest friends. Some of them are our mutual acquaintances. But there is one young lady I do not know. Will you present me?” He turned his head and smiled at Lavinia.
For one moment Nathaniel’s eyes met Sophie’s. She was—smiling. Her usual placid, comfortable smile. She was surrounded by friends, any one of whom would be willing to shed blood in her defense. She must realize at this moment that they had all stayed deliberately close to her to protect her from just such unwelcome attentions. She might quite easily have snubbed Pinter without in any way drawing general attention her way. Instead she was smiling and beginning to extend a hand in Lavinia’s direction. In another moment—less—she would be making the requested introductions and that bounder would be able to claim an acquaintance with Lavinia.
Not if he could help it!
“Excuse us,” he said abruptly, grasping Lavinia’s arm. “Lady Gullis? Sophie?” His half bow took in both ladies. “We must be joining my sister and brother-in-law.” He whisked Lavinia past Rex and Kenneth, who must surely have heard what had passed.
What he had done, Nathaniel thought, was humiliate Sophie. And he was not sure his snub had gone unnoticed. All the members of Rex and Ken’s group seemed to have turned to watch him go. But he was still too furious to care greatly.
Lavinia hauled back on his arm as they approached the doorway. “Nat?” she said angrily. “Unhand me this instant. What was that all about? Who is he that you must be so abominably rude? And do not tell me as you did yesterday that I would not wish to know. Who is he?”
He drew a deep breath. “Boris Pinter is the name,” he said. “A son of the Earl of Hardcastle. And Sophie Armitage’s friend. You are to have nothing to do with him, Lavinia. Do you understand? And nothing more to do with Mrs. Armitage either. And that is a command.”
“Nat.” She finally succeeded in pulling her arm free when they were inside the music room. “Do try not to be quite, quite ridiculous. And if you are considering translating that murderous look into any act of violence against me, I give you fair warning. I shall not take it meekly.”
The sense of her words penetrated the fury that seemed to have taken over his mind. He licked his lips and clasped his hands at his back. He forced a whole lungful of air inside himself before he trusted himself to speak again.
“I have never yet used violence against a woman, Lavinia,” he said. “I do not plan to start with you. Forgive the look. It was not really directed against you.”
“Against whom, then?” she asked him. “Against Mr. Pinter? Or against Sophie?”
He closed his eyes and tried to get his whirling thoughts under control. Why exactly was he so furious? Pinter was a thoroughly unsavory character and doubtless had not changed in three or four years. But Sophie was a free and independent woman. She was free to befriend whom she wished. But why Pinter? And why had she not wanted him to know of Pinter’s visit yesterday and then made light of it? Tonight she had smiled at him and had been prepared to introduce
his
niece to the man without his permission.
Tonight there had been no sign of fear—they had probably all imagined that at the Shelby ball too. Tonight she had been her usual cheerful self.
Perhaps, he thought, he was feeling sorry that he had started an affair with a woman of such poor taste that she could befriend a man like Pinter, a man whom her own husband had abhorred.
“Perhaps against myself, Lavinia,” he said, answering her question at last. “Let us find Margaret.”
“I want,” Lavinia said, looking closely at him, “to know more about Mr. Pinter. But you are not going to tell me more, are you? I am just a delicate female. He is an earl’s son and he seems charming enough. And yet you were abominably rude to both him and Sophie merely because he wished to be presented to me. Are you jealous of him, Nat?”
“Jealous?” He looked at her, stunned. “Jealous? Of Pinter? And why, pray, would I be jealous of him?”
“No, I suppose not,” she said, frowning. “You are as handsome as they come, Nat, I will give you that. You can attract any woman you want. You do not imagine, I suppose, that I have not seen how the wind blows with Lady Gullis this evening? Sophie is not the sort of woman who could make you jealous, is she, more is the pity. But she is my friend, and her friends are mine.”
“My arm,” he said curtly, offering it to her. “I see that Margaret is over there beyond the pianoforte.”
She took his arm without another word, but her jaw, he saw at a glance, was set in a familiar stubborn line.
He was beginning to wish that after all he had stayed at Bowood.
Or that he had not gone riding in the park that first morning.
He wished he had not met Sophie again. Or at least that he had not become her lover. What on earth had possessed him to do such a thing? With Sophie!