“It is not.” Mrs. Summers took a dainty sip from her cup. “As I said, he had a late night…at White’s, a gentlemen’s club, with the Duke of Rockeforte and Lord Thurston.”
“I see.” Somehow, from their correspondence, Sophie had gotten the impression that her cousin was not the type of man to overindulge in drink, but then there was really only so much you could learn about someone from a letter. Still, it would have been nice if he had taken her arrival into consideration before becoming so foxed he could not greet her properly the next day.
“The Duke of Rockeforte called this morning,” Mrs. Summers chimed pleasantly.
Sophie’s mental rebuke of her cousin’s behavior was immediately forgotten. In its stead a rather heady feeling of excitement washed over her. Silly. She had spoken only a few words to the man and those in only a semiconscious state. She schooled her face into a disinterested expression.
“Did he?”
“Yes, he came to inquire after your health.”
Sophie took a hurried drink of tea and blanched when she realized she hadn’t yet added milk or sugar. “Good of him,” she mumbled.
“He left his card and mentioned he would be at the Calmaton ball this Saturday,” Mrs. Summers continued causally. “He looks forward to seeing you there.”
Lord Calmaton, Sophie remembered, was on the list Mr. Smith had given her.
She piled sugar into her cup hastily. “And I him. I should like to thank him properly for his assistance yesterday—and Lord Thurston’s, of course.”
“Of course. You should be flattered, you know. I’m told Rockeforte very rarely goes into society…or good society at any rate. He usually spends the season at one of his country estates.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
Mrs. Summers narrowed her sharp eyes. “Don’t be deliberately obtuse, dear. It’s obvious he means to attend the ball for a chance to further his acquaintance with you.”
Sophie was inordinately pleased that her food arrived just then. Grabbing a scone, she took the very largest bite she could manage without embarrassing herself, or choking. Mrs. Summers set down her teacup and waited quite pointedly for a response. And waited…and waited…
“Eventually, Sophie, you will have to swallow.”
Sophie made a variety of hand gestures that could have conveyed any number of things. But she knew her companion was right. The topic of Rockeforte couldn’t be avoided forever, and certainly not just because it made her unaccountably jumpy. And the scone had taken on a rather unpleasant consistency.
She swallowed.
Then reached for a sip of tea.
Which was not an act of cowardice. She had, after all, taken that bite without first adding some preserves or even a little butter, and if Mrs. Summers thought differently, well—
“Thirsty, dear?”
Sophie realized she had just gulped her entire cup of tea without pausing for breath and was now making unattractive slurping noises. She set her cup down.
“Very,” she offered lamely.
“We were speaking of the Duke of Rockeforte.”
“Were we?”
“Yes. I had just explained that His Grace might have an interest in you.”
Damn. Evasive tactics had never worked well on Mrs. Summers. Sophie tried reasoning with her instead. “I think you read far too much into the duke’s behavior,” she argued. “He was merely being polite.”
“If you say so, dear.”
Oh, Sophie did, but thought it best to change the subject all the same. “I’d like to visit a dress shop tomorrow.”
Mrs. Summers eyebrows went up. “Do you want a new ball gown, dear?”
“No! I mean yes.” She glared at her companion. “I would like to purchase several new dresses, for a number of different occasions.”
“You detest fittings.”
“I know,” Sophie groaned, “but I thought it might be best to get them over and done with. When it comes to pain, the anticipation is often worse than the deed.”
Mrs. Summers smiled at that. “Certainly, we shall have to stop by your father’s solicitors for the funds.”
“As to that…”
If Sophie were any other girl, Mrs. Summers never would have believed the story that she had been saving a portion of her pin money for some time and had sent funds in advance to her own private solicitor in London. But after two decades in Sophie’s company, very little would surprise the worldly Mrs. Summers. If Sophie had told her she had found the money under a rock in the garden, Mrs. Summers wouldn’t have batted an eye.