Sophie's Halloo Page 6

  The set came to a close, and a gentleman appeared at her side to request her hand for the next. It was Tony. His eyes swept her from head to toe with an admiring glance, and he bowed to her with an unusual flourish, but Sophie felt the compliment behind the gesture. Although she had been pleased with her own appearance when she had examined herself in the glass, the splendour of those around her, not confined to the simple dress of the ingénue, had given her doubts. Now, with his obvious approval, she dimpled attractively.

  “Permit me to say how delighted I am to see you here this evening, Miss Corby,” said Tony, offering his arm. “I hope your father is recovered from his attack of the other day?”

  She looked at him impishly and replied, “You must not mind Papa. He is frequently given to attacks when a question of good sportsmanship comes up. Live bait is one of his particular dislikes.”

  “Rightly so!” agreed Tony with a twinkle. “I hope he has written his letter to the editor. I had half a mind to call the fellow out myself!”

  Sophie smiled, but her eyes widened. “I am so glad you did not make that suggestion to Papa, for he might have taken it seriously.”

  Tony leaned a bit closer to speak in a confidential tone, and Sophie was suddenly aware of his essence. “I confess the thought did occur to me,” he said, “but I was afraid he might take it up and offer to be my second. Duels are not much in my line, you know.”

  They had now entered a set, and they took their places before Sophie addressed him again with a shrewd eye out for a change in his expression.

  “Are you not surprised to see me, Sir Tony? I believe you were present when we received a disappointing note from Lady Jersey?”

  His expression was all innocence. “Yes, I am. Surprised and delighted, as I said.”

  “And yet,” she said, regarding him quizzically, “I think you had more to do with my attending than you would have me think, Sir Tony. How did you manage to change their minds?”

  “It was only one mind,” he said, not bothering to deny it. “I would not have you think that there was more than one vote against you. You see, most of the patronesses at Almack’s can be reasonably applied to, and certainly would not vote against someone approved by one of their members, but the Countess Lieven sometimes requires persuasion.”

  “The wife of the Russian ambassador?” asked Sophie.

  “The same,” said Tony, drawing near her again to speak in a low voice. “The countess is convinced that where she is, there is fashionable society, and she rather delights in passing judgement on us all, I fancy. It gives her a feeling of superiority, something her aristocratic Russian soul cannot do without. But she had nothing against you personally.” He seemed inclined to end his explanation there.

  But Sophie’s curiosity had not been satisfied. Even though she could not be called au courant with the London ton, given the limits of her parents’ acquaintance, still she had heard rumours about the Countess Lieven. That lady was new enough to London and had made sufficient sensation that everyone had something to say about her. And it was rumoured that her affairs were numerous. Remembering the Cyprians in the park and their inexplicable familiarity with Sir Tony, Sophie had a peculiarly anxious moment. Just what was his influence with the ambassadress?

  In a tone that was as light as she could possibly make it, she asked him more pointedly, “What was it that you said to convince her, then, Sir Tony? I hope you are placed under no obligation to her on my account.” She did not know that her expression gave away the nature of her concerns.

  Tony glanced down at her as they joined hands and moved to the end of the set. His lips were curved in unmistakable enjoyment, but he had to wait to answer her for they were separated in the pattern of the dance and did not come back together for many minutes.

  During this time, Sophie threw him furtive glances, while trying not to lose her way in the dance. The unanswered question disturbed her tranquility sufficiently to make concentration on the pattern difficult, but Tony showed no such discomfort. She saw that he was moving gracefully through the set with his accustomed ease. Remembering suddenly the bolting horses in the park and Tony’s loss of composure on that occasion, Sophie was reassured and was able to greet him with a more trusting smile when next they came together.

  Her restored confidence may have eliminated any intention of Tony’s to tease her, for he replied to her question with the same honesty with which he had spoken earlier.

  “Political intrigue,” he said confidentially, “is the Countess Lieven’s specialty. I’m afraid I used a rather underhanded trick upon the lady, quite unlike me, but I seem to be strangely motivated of late.” He looked at Sophie with a curious lift of his eyebrows, and she coloured without reason. He continued, “I told the Countess a political secret that she has been hoping to learn. She was most grateful and willingly repaid me by sponsoring your name to Almack’s.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened in horror. “But, Sir Tony!” she cried. “I would not have you do such a thing for me! Why, I had much rather not be admitted!” She was dismayed to think that, in her inexperience, she might have misunderstood this man.

  But Tony smiled reassuringly and squeezed the hand laid so lightly in his. “Miss Corby, you may rest assured that I would never do anything in the least dishonourable, certainly not attached to your name. The secret I gave her is no longer a secret. It will appear in the papers tomorrow. By now, even the Countess has learned that it is common street gossip, which will be confirmed tomorrow by the government.”

  Sophie’s relief was so strong that she sighed as she gave a laugh. “But will you not lose your goodwill with the Countess now that she knows?”

  Tony shook his head confidently. “I do not think so. As I made it appear, the knowledge came to me through a member of the government, and as far as the Countess knows, I was as ignorant of its becoming public as she was.” He looked at her and winked conspiratorially. “That was the genius of the plan.”

  Sophie again laughed happily. A wave of elation had filled her. It was wonderful how Tony could make her feel, somehow, more in the know than those in the know. He could laugh without malice at those who laughed with malice. And he made her feel as open, free and at ease as he always seemed to be.

  The dance ended soon, and Sophie reluctantly turned to find that her next partner as to be Mr. Rollo. On this occasion he was willing to give her his full attention, and so, not begging an introduction to her previous partner, led her back into the dance. Mr. Rollo, too, exhibited considerable skill on the dance floor, but somehow he lacked the easy delivery of Tony’s performance. There was a studied air to Mr. Rollo’s dancing, almost as though he were certain of being watched.

  “You handle the steps beautifully, Miss Corby,” he said, and Sophie resisted the impulse to return the compliment in the pause that ensued. “One would say that you had been here many times before, instead of its being your first assembly.”

  Sophie smiled politely, but preferred to direct the conversation away from herself. “Have you been a member for many seasons now, Mr. Rollo?” she asked.

  Condescendingly, he replied, “Indeed, yes. But that must not discomfit you in any way. You will find the society here overwhelming at first, I know, but you must not consider your place in it in any way inferior to those with more experience of Town life. With time, you, too, will have the same confidence.”

  Sophie thanked him as they parted in the set, but she stifled a grimace of distaste as she turned away. In truth, she was finding Mr. Rollo’s conversation to be unreasonably centred upon himself and his opinion thereof. She had not been thinking herself inferior to the company in any way, merely different. And that, she trusted, would always be true.

  She had no trouble attending to her dance steps in this set, and the time passed quickly until she was reunited with her partner.

  “It has occurred to me, Miss Corby,” Mr. Rollo said after a well-executed bow, “that my experience in society might be of some use to you in t
hese rather awesome circumstances. I fear that the quiz, to which everyone is subject on entering, may have been disconcerting to one only recently out of the school-room, such as yourself, and perhaps I may be of service.”

  He grimaced smugly. “You must first realize that you have been accepted by one of the most exclusive assemblies in the world. Here you will meet with princes and princesses, lords and ladies—and these, too, I must remind you, have had to apply for the approval of the patronesses no less than yourself—and among them, many sirs and the select misters that make up the best that society has. You have, in short, passed the scrutiny at Almack’s, and having done that, need have no further worries of acceptance by the elite.” He finished and waited for Sophie’s gratitude to be dutifully expressed.

  She complied as reasonably as politeness would allow, but Mr. Rollo was not unduly disappointed. He was mentally disposed to fill in wherever her own thanks should be deficient.

  With token confidence in her abilities, then, he offered, “I will not presume to overwhelm you with advice, Miss Corby. Your own good sense will tell you how to go on.” Somehow his superior smile did not convey the same confidence as his words.

  Sophie was grateful for a change of partners when the dance ended. She was not obliged to take a rest from the dancing, for her hand was claimed for every set. Mr. Rollo returned later in the evening to beg for another, and this time he reminded her that the date for their proposed visit to the Royal Academy was approaching. She acknowledged the truth of it, but privately found that she was not looking forward to the scheme with the same degree of delight she had felt earlier.

  Her partner, however, was certain of the pleasure she would derive from it and spent the remainder of the time they were together in telling her of the treat that was in store.

  As he took his departure with a solemn bow, Sophie became aware that Tony was waiting to claim the next dance. Immediately, though the length of the evening had become rather oppressive, her spirits rose.

  “Are you enjoying the assembly, Miss Corby?” he asked, and she fancied he wished for an honest answer.

  “Yes,” she said without affectation, but then added with a haughty look, “having now passed the scrutiny of this august assembly, I need not be concerned that my qualifications to take place among the elite will be questioned further.” She was pleased to see him start and turn to look at her closely. Her impish smile reassured him, and he answered with a twinkle.

  “Indeed, they will not. I suppose some bore has been telling you so, in case it were not perfectly clear. You have had no small number of partners this evening, and I will not be so rude as to ask you which one has such an elevated opinion of himself.”

  Sophie smothered a giggle. “Do you think,” she asked, after a moment’s pause, “that in my advanced years I shall be quizzing young ladies and gentlemen as they enter these portals? Ought I to cultivate a certain look, a lifted eyebrow, a faint sneer to set their knees a-trembling? Would it advance my own position within the ton?”

  Tony grinned. “No. Leave that for the elite masses. You must remain just as you are.”

  “But can I?” asked Sophie, this time more seriously. “If balls and assemblies are to become a habit, even a bore, perhaps, shall I always be the same?”

  “I think so,” he answered unconcernedly. “These amusements never lose their essential qualities. It is only when the security of one’s position becomes more important than simply enjoying oneself that one stops enjoying society. And then, of course, you must do things to fight for that position, always at the cost of someone else’s. But you will not do that.” He smiled at her in a way that warmed her heart.

  She coloured and strived to cover up how much he had affected her. “Then I needn’t quiz anyone?” she asked, lightly this time.

  “No.”

  She sighed resignedly. “I had rather looked forward to quizzing someone, but if you insist...” Her voice trailed off, and he grinned as they moved apart.

  The dance was a lively reel and did not permit much conversation, but once again they were together long enough for Tony to ask, “Who was that gentleman, Miss Corby, whom you danced with earlier?” His voice was uncharacteristically indifferent. “I fancied it was he who claimed your hand after our first dance.”

  “Oh, that was Mr. Rollo,” answered Sophie matter-of-factly. “He is a friend of Papa’s.”

  Tony nodded, “Ah, I see. You must see him often in Berkeley Square, then.” His eyebrow lifted slightly.

  “Yes, we do,” said Sophie with a forced gaiety. She thought it her duty to sound cheerful about her father’s choice of company. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Rollo has kindly invited me to go with him to see the Royal Academy. Of course, I shall be delighted,” she said, reflecting that her delight lay in the promise of a new attraction rather than in the company.

  “Of course,” said Tony, sounding slightly less than delighted himself. “What day would you be going?”

  “On Friday,” said Sophie with some surprise. “Why do you ask?”

  Tony responded quite innocently. “Why, simply because I am engaged to do the same, and coincidentally, on the same day. And you think you will be going at... ?” He left off expectantly.

  “At two o’clock” was the answer.

  The corners of his mouth turned up approvingly. “Excellent,” he said. “The very best time of day to go. That was when I had intended going myself.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Unbeknownst to Sophie, a change of plans had been made concerning the trip to the Royal Academy. Mr. Rollo had informed Sir John that two of his friends had begged to be included in the scheme, and Sophie’s father had then suggested to Lady Corby that she stay at home. The young people would have more fun without her along, he had said. They would get to know each other better.

  And in reply to Lady Corby’s disappointment at not seeing the Academy, he had promised to take her there himself at a future date, with no intention, of course, of ever keeping it. Lady Corby was not deceived. Her married life was full of such unkept promises, though she did not accuse Sir John of purposefully lying to her, merely of putting off into an obscure future all the things he did not truly wish to do.

  Friday afternoon arrived, and Mr. Rollo appeared at the door; his two friends were waiting in the carriage. Sophie had only been apprised of the change in plans that morning and was not terribly pleased to find that the “two friends” could have been more accurately termed “a pair.” The young lady and gentleman were seated in the rear seat of the phaeton with, it seemed, no more than an inch between them, and her arm was rather permanently linked through his. Mr. Rollo introduced them as Miss Kate Stanfield and Mr. Repton. They greeted her politely and then returned to their whisperings with an occasional giggle or squeal from Miss Stanfield.

  Mr. Rollo handed Sophie into the carriage, and she took her seat as far from the centre as safety would allow. She hoped that no one would see them and draw conclusions about the two in front based upon the behaviour of the pair in back. Being in this quartet made her feel uncomfortably particular, much more so than had riding alone with Sir Tony.

  Mr. Rollo’s team of horses consisted of four beautifully matched bays. They were showy and obviously well cared for, so Sophie felt safe in opening the conversation with a comment on their excellence. She could not have picked a better topic.

  “Thank you, Miss Corby,” Mr. Rollo replied, beaming. “I do not deny that they are a fine team. They were purchased directly from Lord Pipcock at a considerable price and only after what must be considered the most fortunate occurrence. You will scarcely credit my good luck. He had just lost his entire fortune at cards the night before and was quite desperate to raise enough funds to flee the country—otherwise he would not have parted with them.” Mr. Rollo’s tone solicited her warmest congratulations.

  “You, indeed, were most fortunate, Mr. Rollo,” said Sophie with the slightest emphasis.

  “Yes, wasn’t I?” said Rollo,
but not without a hint of meriting it fully. “And I have not been disappointed with them. Of course, I would give my ancestral home to have a team of matched greys, but to come in the way of purchasing such a team as this is not every man’s good fortune. Repton and I have been trying them at their full pace between Sevenoaks and Maidstone, and we are confident that they’ve tied the record. Isn’t that so, Repton?” he called back to the rear seat for confirmation.

  But all he got by way of reply were some muffled words and a giggle from the back seat. Mr. Rollo shrugged his shoulders with a smirk in their direction and offered this explanation to Sophie. “Do not mind them, Miss Corby. They are newly engaged to be married. I can only congratulate my friend Repton upon finding the right lady to complement his household. I hope to see myself as well-connected one day soon.” This last was said with a look of confidence in Sophie’s direction.

  Sophie hastened to change the subject and was able to persuade Mr. Rollo to continue speaking about his horses. But he managed to flatter her once more.

  “I was certain to find in you an excellent judge of horses, Miss Corby. As knowledgeable as your father is, you must often hear him speak of them.”

  She hastened to deny it. “Oh, you are quite mistaken, Mr. Rollo. Indeed, I know very little about horses. Only how to ride them. And I must add that I do not perform that very well.”

  “Well, no matter,” said Rollo, evidently not in the least put off. “I would not expect a lady to show much expertise in the matter of horseflesh. It is enough that your father is so notable a judge.”

  Sophie was not certain of the intention of his last statement and not at all clear how it related to Mr. Rollo’s approval of herself. But she went on, hoping to discourage him somehow. “My father would not consider himself an expert on coach horses, sir. Aside from a few episodes during his days at university, he has never shown an interest in becoming a coachman.”