A Regency Match (4 page)

“Never mind,” Lord Wynwood said firmly. “It's much too long a story, and we shall be late for our luncheon with Stanford. Good day, Miss Edgerton. Good day, Bertie, old fellow. I do hope you'll excuse us from the amenities. We must be off.” And with a smooth but hasty efficiency, Lord Wynwood nodded to them both and turned Miss Bethune toward the door.

Lawrence Dillingham hurried up to Bertie and, in what was meant to be a whisper, asked, “I say, who's the Bond Street Beau? I've never
seen
such a magnificent coat!” His voice, even in his attempted whisper, had a penetrating quality which carried throughout the store. Up and down the aisles, heads turned and eyes glinted in their efforts to obtain a glimpse of the Bond Street Beau in the magnificent coat. Sophy could see Lord Wynwood's back stiffen as he steered Miss Bethune to the door with quickened steps. “Really, Mr. Dillingham,” she hissed in a furious undervoice, “couldn't your remarks have waited until we were alone?”

She turned away from her escorts in disgust and humiliation, leaning against the table in an attempt to compose herself. To her intense dismay, the table gave way, and the dozens of books displayed upon it tumbled to the floor with a thunderous crash. She jumped back, uttered a little scream and looked quickly towards the door.
Let him be gone
, she prayed with a desperate earnestness.
Please let him be gone. Let him not see what I've done
.

But Lord Wynwood had heard the crash just as he was stepping through the doorway, and he turned around instinctively. He stared at her with his eyebrows raised. Ignoring the goggling eyes and disdainful murmurings of everyone else, she could feel only
his
eyes on her. Her cheeks burned, and she couldn't bear to meet his look. But his expression of distaste was so apparent that a spark of anger flared in her breast. How dared he look at her so? She lifted her chin and stared back at him challengingly. His lordship's lips twitched in barely-perceptible amusement; he shook his head in barely-expressed disbelief, bowed briefly and disappeared into the street.

Although the proprietor of the shop was very kind, and despite the fact that her escorts found the scene uproariously funny, Sophia left the bookstore in a state of almost unbearable chagrin. Bertie's company was suddenly insupportable, and Mr. Dillingham's asininity seemed to have markedly increased. She insisted upon being taken home. Ignoring their attempts to tease her out of the doldrums, she walked along silent and withdrawn. The memory of Lord Wynwood's expression at that last, deplorable moment was etched on her inner eye.
I don't care what he thinks of me
, she repeated to herself firmly as the mortifying scene played over and over again in her imagination. But each repetition made the incident appear more odiously vulgar, and the state of her emotions made it quite clear that she cared very much indeed about what his lordship thought of her.

She dismissed her escorts on her doorstep and entered the house quietly, wishing only to creep up to her bedroom and hide away from the world. Her spirits utterly depressed, she didn't want to face her grandmother. Lady Alicia, as soon as she learned the details of the morning's fiasco, would be sure to blame the whole debacle on Sophy's impetuosity. Sophy therefore hurried up the stairs on tiptoe. But she'd only reached the first landing when her grandmother's voice stopped her. “Is that you, Sophy?” her ladyship called from the sitting room.

Lady Alicia only called her “Sophy” when she was in a very good mood, so it was evident to the girl that the news of the incident had not yet found its way to her grandmother's ears. In some relief, she went down to the sitting room. “Good afternoon, Grandmama,” she said from the doorway.

“I've had a letter from Lady Wynwood,” Alicia told her, looking up from the closely-written sheets of paper she'd been reading. “She writes that our visit to Sussex is to be even more festive than she'd planned. It seems that her son is to be married, and he's requested his mother to make the announcement at Wynwood Hall to a small, select group of friends and relations, ourselves included.”

Sophy's breath caught in her throat. “Do you mean …? Are you saying that Lord Wynwood will be
staying
at Wynwood Hall … at the very time when
we'll
be there?”

“Yes, my dear, that's
just
what I'm saying.”

Sophy stared at her grandmother in wide-eyed horror. “But … but you never
told
me that he would be present—!”

“I didn't know it, you peagoose. But you needn't look so alarmed, my love. If your concern is caused by the recollection of the to-do at the Gilberts' ball, you may put such thoughts aside. Perhaps I made too much of the incident when it occurred. The matter can be of no moment to Lord Wynwood—certainly not after all this time. With a marriage in the offing, you may be sure he has more important matters on his mind. I shouldn't wonder if his lordship doesn't remember you at all.”

“You would have been right, if this were yesterday,” Sophy said glumly.

“What do you mean?” Lady Alicia asked, her complacent expression fading.

“He'll remember me
now
. I made an
indelible
impression on him today.”

“Today?” her grandmother asked apprehensively. “What happened
today
?”

“I … never mind. It was of no importance. But you may as well understand, Grandmama, that I have no intention of going to Sussex if
he's
to be there.”

“But … why not? You're
expected
!”

“Expected or not, I shan't go. I couldn't face that man again.”

The old woman stared at her granddaughter for a moment and then closed her eyes as if to shut out a horrifying image. “Sophia, what have you done now?”

“I don't want to talk about it, Grandmama, please.”

Lady Alicia opened her eyes and fixed them on her granddaughter lugubriously. “As bad as that, eh? Well, if you don't want to talk about it, I'm sure I don't want to hear about it. I'm much too old to subject my nerves to the shock of dealing with another of your hairbrained misdeeds. So don't tell me. I will merely say that you
will
accompany me to Sussex whether you like it or not.”

“Never!” Sophia said roundly. “You can go in the company of Aunt Isabel and Uncle Walter. You don't need me.”

“Of course I don't
need
you, you little ninny. But I can't leave you here alone. So, will-you, nill-you, you will go.”

Sophia drew herself up to her full height and faced her grandmother dramatically. “You don't understand,” she declared tremulously. “I
can not
go. You can leave me here alone, send me back to Papa, or do whatever else you will with me. But, Grandmama, there's nothing on
earth
which could prevail upon me to go to Wynwood Hall. I won't face that man for anyone or anything in the world!” She ran to the door, throwing her grandmother a backward glance. “And that,” she said with her most histrionic tremor, “is my
final word
on the subject!”

Chapter Three

A
LL THE EDGERTONS
but Sophy were eagerly anticipating their visit to Wynwood Hall. Each had his own specific reason for desiring the fortnight in Sussex. Isabel knew that an invitation to Wynwood was a rare prize and put one high in the esteem of the
ton
. In addition, she looked forward to a respite from the active social whirl of London. Her husband, Sir Walter, merely yearned for the smell of country air. Since his return from India he had done nothing but complain about the offensive stench of the London streets. Bertie had learned that Wynwood possessed a superb stable and that the hunting was excellent. And Lady Alicia, of course, was eager for a reunion with her dear old friend Charlotte. As the time for departure drew near, the prospect of the sojourn in Sussex grew more and more inviting, and it increasingly became the subject of conversation when the family came together.

Not one of the family, however, was able to persuade Sophy to change her mind and make one of the party. Lady Alicia harangued her repeatedly on the problems her stubbornness was causing. The old lady could not permit her granddaughter to remain in London with no one but the servants. She finally agreed, with great reluctance, to send the girl back to her Wiltshire home for a fortnight's stay. The fact that Sophy agreed to this unpleasant expedient was ample proof to her grandmother that, to Sophy's mind at least,
anything
(even the prospect of living with her stepmother) was preferable to facing Lord Wynwood again.

As the day of departure grew closer, it was apparent to everyone that Sophia's spirits were declining. Even the companionship of the good-natured Bertie, the devoted Dillingham, or her newest swain, Sir Tristram Caitlin, did nothing to lift her out of the dismals. Sir Walter, who was usually quite oblivious to the vagaries of female emotions, noticed the girl's moodiness and was touched by it. To everyone's delighted surprise, he offered to escort the entire family to Drury Lane to see Sarah Siddons perform Shakespeare. Isabel was so pleased by her husband's unwonted thoughtfulness that she promptly invited the family to take dinner at her house before the play.

Sophy, realizing that her family was taking elaborate pains for her benefit, resolved to do her part to make the occasion a success. On the evening appointed for the theater expedition, she put on her favorite gown (a graceful swirl of green lustring which brought out the glints of red in her hair), pinched a good color into her cheeks and put on her widest smile. When she set off with her grandmother to Sir Walter's residence, Lady Alicia complimented her most sincerely on her appearance. Lady Alicia herself was quite in her best looks, wearing a new lavendar crape roundgown and her favorite diamond brooch. When one knows one is looking quite up to the mark, it is hard to be downcast, and the pair arrived at Sir Walter's residence in almost excellent spirits.

The dinner did nothing to dampen their mood. In fact, it made a delightful beginning for the evening. Isabel was an over-anxious but generous hostess, and when Lady Alicia deigned to compliment her on the dinner (refraining for once from making her usual caustic comments on the blandness of the menu or the toughness of the beef), Isabel beamed with relief and pleasure. Bertie made them all howl with laughter at his humorous account of his friend Dillingham's first appearance in evening clothes. (He had urged Dilly to order a dress suit, and it had arrived from the tailor's the day before. Bertie had made his friend model it for him. His description of Dilly's stiff-legged walk in his new black silk breeches—which made his thighs look even longer and thinner than they were—gave a vivid verbal picture of a crow in a white neckcloth.) And Sir Walter spent the better part of the dinner hour imbibing generous amounts of wine to fortify himself against the onslaught of culture which he was about to endure at the theater, and he was, by the end of the meal, in a very mellow mood indeed.

It was therefore a merry group which climbed into Sir Walter's most commodious carriage for the ride to Drury Lane. On their arrival, Sir Walter and his party were ushered up to one of the very best boxes. A number of acquaintances in the boxes nearby nodded or waved, and many eyes turned up to them from the pit to admire the elegance of their attire and the cheerfulness of their spirits. They settled into their chairs with satisfied sighs and prepared to attend the play.

Sarah Siddons, the most renowned actress of the century, was making one of her rare appearances, recreating her role as Volumnia in
Coriolanus
. Her first appearance was greeted with cheers and applause, and Sophy, enchanted by the woman's unmistakable magnetism, leaned forward on the balustrade to watch the performance. Mrs. Siddons was tall, imposing and commanding, her advancing years only enhancing her talents. When her rich voice rang out with:

“…Away, you fool! (Blood) more becomes a man Than gilt his trophy. The breasts of Hecuba,/When she did suckle Hector, looked not lovelier/Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood/At Grecian sword…”

Sophy felt a little, thrilled shiver over her skin. Mrs. Siddons's short scene breathed awesome life into a play of ancient political intrigue. Sophy had always enjoyed reading history, her grandfather (an expert on military history) having instilled in her a sense of its grandeur when she was a young child, and the story of Coriolanus was quite familiar to her. What surprised her was the interest of the rest of the audience. Their attention was rapt, and Sophy was impressed by the fact that so many listened with such fascination to the re-creation of events which would have faded into oblivion centuries ago had not Shakespeare and these performers made them live again.

She was about to return her attention to the stage when her eye was caught by a familiar profile. Across the theater, in a box almost directly opposite, sat Lord Wynwood. Her heart gave a little lurch, and something in her throat constricted in fear. Why, she asked herself, had that detestable man such power over her emotions? Why was she afraid of him? Why did she feel it necessary to win his good opinion? Why, in fact, did she concern herself with him at all?

She could find no logical answers. Her reaction to seeing him was beyond what was reasonable. She must exercise control over such inordinate sensations. She turned her eyes to the stage and forced herself to concentrate on the play.

By the time the third act had ended, she was fully caught up in Coriolanus's dilemma. Volumnia's cold-bloodedness froze her blood, and Coriolanus's pride, when he spoke the lines:

“…
I would not buy

Their mercy at the price of one fair word
…”

quite moved her to tears. When the intermission lights were lit, she was caught wiping the corners of her eyes with the tip of a gloved finger and was unmercifully teased for her softheartedness by Bertie, who said bluntly that as far as he was concerned, the play was a deuced bore.