‘I hope not. Did you have to sleep in that as a child? It must have given you nightmares.’
‘No, I was spared that. I was ill, or laid up after one accident or another half the time, so much that I had a suite in the West Wing. Much more straightforward furnishings.’ He eyed the monstrosity. ‘In fact this is too short for me. Apparently in those days people slept sitting more or less upright. You will have to help me choose another bed, there must be enough in this place for us to find one the right size for us.’
The blue eyes turned to give him a look which said very clearly that she knew exactly what he was hoping might happen on a tour of bedchambers combined with the close study of beds. ‘You promised.’
‘I know. And I did not for a moment believe you would actually help me chose a bed.’
‘I cannot imagine what Mama would say.’
‘I can. Come along, Sophie, back to your bedchamber. You may lock all the doors after you, ring for the maid and play with the plumbing. They should have brought you some tea up by now.’
‘Cal.’ She stopped in the middle of her sitting room, stood in front of him and looked steadily into his face, all the laughter gone. ‘What do you want of me? I realise I don’t know you, not at all. We kiss, and we make jokes and… I do not know you.’
‘I want whatever you can give me, Sophie. Nothing more. What do you want of me?’
‘I don’t know that either.’ She said it abruptly, as though the admission had been forced out of her. ‘I really do not know.’ Then she was gone, a whirl of blue skirts and flying ribbons, and the door shut and there was a soft click as the key turned.
Whatever had that been about? What had impelled her to ask such a question? The answer should be obvious. Cal wanted a lady of breeding who could act as an hostess, who could manage large households, who would give him children and raise his daughter. And yet she had been compelled to ask and he had thrown the question back and she hadn’t been able to answer him.
A faint sound made her start before she saw it was a maid who was setting out tea things on a small table in the window embrasure. ‘Miss Wilmott, I’ve brought you tea.’ It looked more like a comprehensive meal. ‘Is there anything else you would like? Different cake, perhaps?’
‘No, this looks excellent, thank you – ?’
‘Betty, ma’am.’ A bob of a curtsey.
‘Could you ask someone to fetch… to run my bath in twenty minutes? And send my maid up to help me dress.’
‘Mary’s unpacking your things now, Miss Wilmott. I’ll just tell her when you want your bath for.’
Betty, Mrs Fairfax the housekeeper. Only about ninety eight more names to learn. Sophie poured herself a cup of tea, selected a watercress sandwich and gave herself a brisk talking-to while she ate. It took another sandwich, ham that time, and a scone with blackberry jelly, but she had talked herself into something approaching calm confidence by the time Mary appeared to announce that her bath was ready.
Sophie Anne Mathilda Thorne, Her Grace the Duchess of Calderbrook. Yes, this is what I want.
The positive mood lasted into the evening, despite Mama worrying at their unconventional arrival. ‘I was not at all happy with the Duke sweeping you off like that.’ She eyed Sophie with what looked like apprehension as they sat in the drawing room waiting for Cal and Lord Elmham to come in from the hall where they were deep in conversation about, of all things, the weaponry of the South Pacific islanders. ‘He is very forceful in a quiet way. Were you at all… flustered?’
What a marvellous euphemism. Yes, Mama, we were both very flustered. ‘Not at all, Mama. The Duchess’s suite of rooms has just been refurbished and Cal asked me to use them so I could identify any changes that I wanted for after the wedding. I did go as far as his sitting room, which apparently he isn’t likely to use, but that is all.’ Her mother looked relieved. Presumably she’d had nightmare visions of Sophie being pursued round the bedchamber by an amorous Duke attempting to anticipate the wedding. ‘The plumbing is amazing, Mama. All the latest innovations. You must come and try the bath for yourself.’
They were discussing how Step Papa might be induced to fit modern pipework into the London house when the men walked in, Step Papa carrying a strange green blade that seemed to be made of some kind of stone and Cal charmingly apologetic for neglecting them. After that, it seemed to Sophie, Cal seduced her parents with as much ease as he had almost seduced her.
He was perfect with Mama. Serious, charming, a little rueful about his long absence from England, very flattering to her as the mother of such a delightful daughter. With Step Papa he was slightly deferential, as to an older man, but they were soon deep into travellers’ tales with all formality gone. During the evening they both kept smiling at her and Sophie realised they were happy, and relieved, and had no qualms that she had found the ideal match. And neither had she.