did not, so I shall not.” The marquess rocked back on his heels. “Instead I shall drag you unwillingly up to my estate in Northamptonshire where you will dine with your sister and several highly esteemed members of the peerage who happen to have a fascination with antiquities. You will support her now, as you did not previously.”
A cold, hard edge entered Rothschild’s eyes. “You think you can make her suitable? You are delusional.”
“I think I can make her an Eccentric, and that, Rothschild, will make her acceptable to other Eccentrics. It is a beginning.”
What followed was a tedious hour of complaining, cajoling, and conniving that resulted nevertheless in Rothschild ordering his valet to prepare for a journey north. With such a disagreeable companion in tow, Justin anticipated a miserable trip, but as he watched the loading of the earl’s trunks onto the rear of his coach, he was grinning from ear to ear regardless.
“Dear heavens, he’s done it!” the dowager Lady Fontaine cried.
She lifted her gaze from the boldly slashed penmanship of her son, and smiled at her dearest friend. She had gratefully accepted the invitation to join the countess and Sophie on their return to their residence, despite her concern that her removal from Northamptonshire would delay word. She should not have worried. Fontaine had written directly to the Cardington dower property, having anticipated her inability to wait out news alone. “He has convinced Lord Rothschild to assist us.”
Lady Cardington clapped her hands, the tension that had gripped her slight frame upon the arrival of the post dissipating with a relieved smile. “His lordship has hidden depths. Of course, we both knew that.”
“Yes, we did.” The dowager refolded the short missive carefully. “But now we have work to do, Caroline.”
Blowing out her breath, Lady Cardington set her shoulders back. “What is required of us?”
“We are to arrange a gathering.” Leaning forward, the dowager passed the letter over. “I have no notion how we shall manage the guest list he has demanded.”
Caroline rose from her floral slipper chair and moved to the walnut escritoire in the corner where her spectacles waited. “We shall lie and elaborate.” She gazed out the window to where Sophie walked beside Thomas in the rear garden. “We need only to entice them to come. The rest we leave to Fontaine and Sophie.”
“Did you truly attempt to climb to the top of the pagoda?”
Sophie glanced down at her son with a sheepish smile. “I did.”
“I am glad I was not here to see it,” Thomas said, gazing up at her with Langley’s dark eyes. “I would have been frightened for you.”
“Then perhaps you can understand why I was so frightened when I found you attempting the feat yourself.”
“I thought you were angry.”
She set her hand atop his unruly chocolate brown waves. “No, not angry, darling. Terrified.”
Looking at the structure, she remembered fragments of the day when Fontaine had caught her hanging from the roof’s edge.
He had been shaking with fury, or so she had believed at the time. Now she realized how he must have felt and her heart hurt. How could she have been so blind to his feelings for her?
She sighed. She suspected she knew why. Confusion at the loss of her parents and the lack of connection to her only sibling had made it difficult for her to perceive affection. She had been angry at the world, and therefore saw only anger returned to her.
“I have been invited to visit the Fontaine estate again,” Sophie said, dropping her hand to link fingers with Thomas’s grubby ones. They rounded the corner and she gestured to a crescent-shaped marble bench beneath a tree.
“I like Lady Fontaine.”
“So do I.” Although it was Justin who had requested her return in a short but sweet note that offered a chance at happiness. However, there was more at stake than her feelings. “Would you be upset if I went?”
Thomas appeared to consider the question carefully. “You have been sad since you returned.”
Sophie blinked, startled that he had been perceptive enough to notice. “I miss a friend.”
“Will you see your friend again when you go?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will not be upset, though I will miss you.”
With watering eyes, Sophie pulled Thomas into her lap and hugged him tightly to her. He wriggled and squirmed, protesting indignantly. And then he settled into her arms with an exasperated sigh.
“Thank you,” she said, when she had collected herself.
He squeezed her back and then climbed off her lap. “Since I cannot climb, can we catch insects?”
“I suppose.”
With a whoop of joy, Thomas led the way to the nearest bush. And for the first time in a very long time, Sophie felt hope.
Chapter Nine
Sophie jumped when the knock came to the door of her guest chamber in the Fontaine manse. She was not high-strung by nature-energetic, yes, but prone to nerves, no-but on this occasion she could not help it. When she had arrived that afternoon she’d taken note of the Rothschild crest on the travel coach in the drive. For the first time in many years she was sharing the same roof as her brother. In fact, she was fairly certain it was the first time they had been in the same province since their parents had passed on.
She rushed to the door and pulled it open. “Lady Fontaine,” she greeted as she saw who called on her.
The dowager was already dressed for dinner, her slender figure encased in cream colored satin skirts capped with a forest green bodice. Her blonde hair was artfully curled and her wrists, ears, and throat were adorned with brilliant emeralds rimmed with diamonds. Altogether, she presented a picture of elegant, affluent, mature beauty, and the care she displayed in her choice of attire was a vivid reminder of how important tonight would be.
“Lady Sophie.”
Dipping into a swift curtsy, Sophie hoped she hid her disappointment. As focused as she was on Rothschild, she was equally focused on Fontaine. To know that he was so close…to imagine him relaxed in his den, the place where he had loved her so ardently and so skillfully…
Her body thrummed in response to her yearning, and she released her breath in a rush. She had hoped to find him on the opposite side of the door, although she had known it would be far too risky an action for him to take with so many guests about. Her silly heart did not care about the reasonableness of its expectations. It cared only about its infatuation with Justin.
“Do not tax yourself worrying,” the dowager said with a reassuring curve to her lips, misunderstanding. “I am duly impressed with Fontaine’s arrangements and feel comfortable advising you to leave everything within his capable hands.”
Sophie nodded. “I trust him.”
“Of course you do. He is a most trustworthy man. He does nothing in half-measure. You can be certain that he has no doubts regarding the outcome of this evening. He would not risk your unhappiness.”
Sophie lifted her chin and smiled. The thought of her love for Justin straightened her spine and strengthened her determination to make the night a success, whatever he had planned. “I will make him happy.”
“I know you will.” The dowager gestured down the hall. “I offer you the use of my abigail and my rooms for dressing. Everything you need awaits you there.”
It was odd that the dowager would see to such a task herself, rather than sending her maid to Sophie, but Sophie didn’t question the offer, or how it was presented. She simply expressed her gratitude and followed Lady Fontaine down the gallery until they reached their destination.
Stepping into the lovely suite of rooms decorated in varying shades of gold, wine, and pink, Sophie was immediately arrested by the profusion of boxes set atop the chaise. Big and small, it appeared that every size and shape imaginable was represented.
