A Regency Match (7 page)

“The
Carringtons
? Good Lord, Mama, there are
six
of them!” Marcus groaned in anguish.

“No … no, wait. The Carringtons are not coming this month. I think they said they'd be abroad 'til summer.”

“Whew!” Marcus breathed in relief. “That's a bit of luck. So that leaves five, then. With Julian, the Bethunes, Dennis and us, we'll be just under a dozen. That won't be too bad. Are you sure you haven't forgotten anyone else? That you've asked only those five? By the way, Mama, who
are
these people? Do I know them?”

“The Edgertons? Well, I really don't remember if you've met them. Except for Alicia, of course. Surely you've met my friend Alicia Edgerton.”

“Edgerton? Edger—? Oh, Lord …
no
!” Marcus stared at his mother in dawning apprehension. “Is her granddaughter named
Sophia
?”

“Yes, I believe that's her name. I haven't seen her since she was a tiny baby, but …” His mother's voice trailed off as she smiled in misty recollection. “Yes, that was it … little Sophy …”

“Good God!” Marcus exclaimed, appalled. “You haven't invited
Sophia Edgerton
! I can't believe it!”

But Lady Wynwood didn't seem to hear. She was smiling at a distant memory. “Little Sophy … oh, you should have seen her, dearest. She was the most adorable little thing … so pink and plump, with a shock of carrot-red hair—”

“Mama, must you be woolgathering at a time like this?” her son cut in curtly. “Do you realize what you've
done
?”

“Done?” she asked, smiling up at him innocently. “What have I done?”

“You've probably turned this affair into a
disaster
!” he replied glumly.

Lady Wynwood smiled at him condescendingly. “Don't be so silly, love. How can I have done that? Just by asking little Sophy?”

“Your little Sophy is no longer a plump and innocent babe, you know, Mama. She's a grown woman—”

“Well, of
course
she is! I know
that
. I sent her some pearls for her come-out, if I remember rightly. But what does that signify? You wouldn't want her here if she were a child, would you? Children can be so trying when a house is full of guests.”

“She'll be more of a nuisance than a
dozen
children, I'm afraid,” Marcus predicted grimly.

“Alicia's little Sophy? I don't know what you're talking about. I've been told she's a most charming young woman.”

Marcus snorted. “Yes, I suppose she is. But she carries disaster around with her like … like that shawl you keep struggling with. It surrounds her … like a cloud.”

Lady Wynwood shrugged, dismissing her son's statement as mere nonsense. She rose and wandered over to her son's chair. “I cannot imagine how you came by such a notion, dearest,” she said putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, “but I'd put it out of my head, if I were you. What can a mere slip of a girl do to spoil your party?”

“I don't know,” Marcus muttered, trying to prepare himself to face the inevitable, “but it will be something deplorable. She'll spill hot soup at dinner and scald somebody. Or she'll fall down the stairs and break her neck. Or burst into tears at some unintended slight. Something of the sort.”

Lady Wynwood gave a tinkling laugh. But when her son turned around and glared up at her, she restrained her amusement. “Oh, dear,” she murmured apologetically, “I suppose one shouldn't laugh. Is she
really
that sort of girl?”

Marcus nodded numbly.

“That
is
too bad,” his mother remarked sympathetically. “Poor Alicia must have her hands full.” She wandered unconcernedly toward the door. “Well, we'll do what we can to see that they enjoy themselves anyway. Don't worry about it, love.” And she drifted placidly out of the room.

Marcus stared after his mother in a kind of admiring dismay. “Of
course
, Mama,” he muttered ironically, “you are quite right. Why should I
worry
? I shall be the host at a party which might explode at any moment. It could become a
shambles
… Miss Sophia Edgerton will see to that! A complete shambles. So what have I to worry about, eh? What on earth have I to worry about?” And he threw up his hands in a gesture of dismissal, shrugged his shoulders and went off to dress for dinner.

Chapter Five

“I
DON'T SEE
why I can't come along,” Dilly complained when Bertie stopped at his lodgings to say goodbye. “I've heard the place is enormous. They'd surely have room for one more person.”

“You're the most crackbrained clunch I've ever known,” Bertie told him flatly. “You ain't been invited. You surely don't want to put in an appearance where you ain't been invited, do you?”

“Yes, I do. How could I have been invited when Lady Wynwood don't know me? But if I was to show up at the door, she'd
have
to—”

Bertie made a disapproving face. “You sound like a regular
sponge
! It just ain't
done
, you know that! If I didn't know better, I'd think you was cast away. You didn't dip into the brandy, did you?”

“Don't be a gudgeon. Don't even like the stuff. I just …” He hung his head.

“Just what? You can manage without me for a fortnight, can't you?”

“No … it's not
you
…”

“Not me? Then what—?” The answer suddenly dawned on Bertie, and he glared at his friend in disgust. “Do you mean to stand there and tell me that all this is because
Sophy
will be going?”

Dilly nodded gloomily. “It's for an entire fortnight, you see. A
fortnight
!”

“Damme if I've ever known such a nodcock! What
difference
does it make? I've told you and
told
you she ain't for you.”

Dilly kept his eyes lowered shamefacedly. “Not now, perhaps … but someday …”

“Humbug!” his friend said bluntly. “You haven't a prayer. Besides, what has that to say to the matter at hand?”

“Well, you see, a great deal could happen in a fortnight,” Dilly explained worriedly. “She could go away and come back
betrothed
!”

“What rubbish! Who'll be there for her to fix on? Me? Wynwood, who's betrothed already? You're addlebrained.”

“I've known it to happen before, Bertie.
Really
. A girl leaves her usual surroundings, and the next thing you know, she's wed! It's the strange air or something. Happened to my own sister!”

“You don't say!” Bertie shook his head in bewilderment. “Females! There's no accounting for 'em. But strange air or no, she can't become betrothed if there's no one there to attach to. She'd much more likely hook a fish right here in town.”

Dilly shook his head stubbornly. “There'll be a house
full
of guests at Wynwood Hall. You can't be
sure
there won't be an eligible in the bunch. If she was here in town, I could at least keep an eye on her.”

“You're besotted,” Bertie declared unsympathetically. “If you insist on spending the next two weeks torturing yourself with these wild imaginings, there ain't a thing I can do.” And he clapped his beaver on his head and made for the door.

“Wait, Bertie! If you won't let me go with you, then will you do something else for me?” Dilly asked urgently, catching his arm.

“What?”

“Keep an eye on her? Don't let anyone dangle after her …!”

Bertie shrugged the hand from his arm. “Don't be a worse gudgeon than you already are. I ain't the sort to interfere in my cousin's life. And if you weren't so bubblewitted, you wouldn't ask it of me.”

Dilly clutched his arm again, his eyes desperate. “Then will you at least
write
to me? Let me know who's there, and if there's any danger of … of … you know!”

“Write to you! I should say not! You'd only read all sorts of nonsense between the lines and upset yourself over nothing.”

Dilly dropped his hand and turned away in frustration. “Very well,
Mr. Edgerton
,” he said in a voice that he tried to make cold but which trembled with emotion, “if you won't even d-do that one little thing for me, you needn't bother to come here when you get back. I won't be sp-speaking to you!”

Bertie snorted. “Ha! A likely tale. I don't credit it for a moment. When I get back I shall no doubt find you sitting on my doorstep.” And without another word, Bertie Edgerton took his leave of his best friend.

Within the hour, a haggard-looking Lawrence Dillingham appeared at Lady Alicia's door. He found the hallway full of luggage and the two footmen busily darting in and out, loading the carriage which stood waiting at the door. Not one of the busy servants took the least heed of the gangling young man who stood in the doorway except to glance at him in annoyance when they found him in their way. At last he plucked up his courage and approached Miss Leale who, already dressed in her travelling cloak and a bonnet crazily askew, was attempting to supervise the preparations. “May I see Miss Edgerton, please?” he asked diffidently.

Miss Leale favored him with a brief, harried glance. “Oh, it's
you
, Mr. Dillingham. Sorry, lad, but Miss Sophy's about to leave for Sussex. She won't 'ave time for callers today.”

“But I only want a moment,” he pleaded urgently.

Miss Leale shook her head and turned to the small hall mirror on the wall near the door. “Look at that hat, will ye now?” she muttered. “I can't make it stick on straight.” Then she turned back to Mr. Dillingham. “Go along now, like a good lad,” she said with motherly firmness, “or ye'll be gettin' in the way.”

“But, ma'am,” the hard-pressed Dilly begged, “you don't understand. I
must
see Miss Edgerton on a matter of the utmost impor—”

At that moment, Sophy appeared at the top of the stairs. She was magnificently attired in a rose-colored pelisse and a straw bonnet with an enormous poke and a captivating bunch of silk roses pinned to the crown. “Dilly!” she exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing here now?”

“Oh, Sophy!” he breathed in relief. “I mean, Miss Edgerton! How glad I—I mean, it's lucky that … I mean, I had so wished to …” Quite tangled in his explanation, he floundered into silence.

Sophy came down the stairs. “Yes, I understand, Dilly, but you can see that I've no time to talk to you now. If you'd care to drop by when I get back …”

“Sophia, stop dawdling!” came her grandmother's command from the top of the stairs. The old lady came marching down the stairs exuding nervous impatience. “We're more than an hour behind schedule. Leale, where's the large hat-box? And Sophia, will you carry this jewel case for me? Good heavens, child, why are you wearing that
dreadful
hat?”

“I
like
that dreadful hat,” Sophy replied saucily.

“Well, suit yourself. Now, as for you, young man, you are decidedly in the way.”

“Yes, ma'am. I mean … I just wish a moment with Miss Edgerton—”

But Lady Alicia had brushed by him without another glance and swept out the door. Miss Leale, throwing him a look of impatience, ran out hurriedly after her mistress, babbling about the large hat-box having already been stowed aboard.

“Well, goodbye, Dilly. We shall be seeing you soon,” Sophy said purposefully, urging him out the door ahead of her.

“But Miss Edge—Sophy, you
must
let me speak! I only want you to promise me something—”

“
Sophia
!” her grandmother barked. “Are you going to dawdle there all day? Come down here and help us find the large hat-box. I packed all my powders and medications in it, and I will not stir a step unless I have them with me.”

Sophy started down the stone steps, but Dillingham caught her arm. “Sophy, you
must
promise me—!”

“I'm coming, Grandmama,” she called. “Really, Dilly, you are becoming the greatest nuisance! What
is
it?”

“Only promise me that you won't … won't …”

“
There
it is m'lady,” Leale squealed in relief. “Right there beside Miss Sophy's trunk, see?”

“Good,” Lady Alicia grunted and allowed herself to be assisted into the carriage. “Sophia,” she called threateningly over her shoulder, “come down
immediately
, or we shall depart without you!”

“Won't what, Dilly?” Sophy asked him curiously, ignoring the hysteria below.

“That … that you won't go and do anything hasty … like getting yourself buckled,” he urged desperately.

Sophy stared. “
What
? What are you
talking
about?”

“Buckled. You know … leg-shackled. Wedded. Or even … betrothed.
Promise
!”

She gave a light laugh and shook her head. “Wedded? Betrothed? Don't be a fool, Dilly! I don't know why the matter should concern you, but you needn't worry. I haven't the least inclination in that direction.” Her eyes took on a distant, almost-militant glitter. “My mind shall be occupied with other matters entirely.”

“Other matters?” Dillingham asked, confused.

“
Sophia
!” came a stentorian cry from the carriage.

“Please, Miss Sophy, hurry,” Miss Leale pleaded warningly. The abigail stood waiting at the carriage door impatiently, the fingers of one hand clenching and unclenching nervously while her other hand held her trying bonnet in place on her head.

“What other matters?” Dillingham repeated.

“Never mind,” Sophy flung back as she ran down the steps. “Suffice it to say that finding myself a husband is the very
last
thing on my mind!”

With the roses on her hat bobbing, she jumped into the carriage, Miss Leale quickly following. The footman shut the door, the coachman flicked his whip, and the carriage lumbered off down the street, leaving behind a breathless and sad-eyed Dillingham. The boy had had her promise, but he felt not in the least reassured. For the first time in his life, he realized that the protestations of females, being only words after all, do not carry enough conviction to ease the pangs of jealousy that eat into a lover's heart.