Page 17 of A Counterfeit Engagement

The passage of a few more days found them in Madam Duval’s atelier for the final fitting of another ballgown.

Sophie was glad that each visit allowed them to learn what the gossips were saying about her ‘engagement’ and gently spread a few rumours in her turn.

She would have felt sadly indulgent if Jonathan were spending so many pounds on their gowns without any direct return.

Of course, each new outfit made Isabel appear even more desirable on the marriage mart.

And that, Sophie thought ruefully, should be reason enough for me.

As they waited to be shown back to the fitting rooms, Sophie could not help but notice that two of Madame Duvall’s customers seemed to be paying them a considerable degree of attention.

The ladies were around her mother’s age, or perhaps a little older, and had pleasant, intelligent faces.

There was something rather familiar about one, the taller of the two, though Sophie could not quite identify it.

When Isabel addressed her by name, the taller lady came towards them with a broad smile.

“Please excuse me, but are you not Miss Sophia Anderson?”

“I am,” Sophie said readily, though a little confused, “but I am afraid you have the advantage of me. There is something so very familiar in your face, and yet you must forgive me — I cannot put a name to it.”

“You are being terribly rude, Jennifer,” the shorter of the two ladies scolded her friend, though with an amused smile that took the sting from her words.

“After all, you have never been introduced to Miss Anderson. Please allow me — this is Miss Jennifer Haverly, the duke’s aunt, and I am Miss Agatha Whimmerly. ”

“Of course!” Sophie cried out. Seeing their confused expressions, she hurried to explain herself. “You greatly resemble the duke, Miss Haverly. That is why you seemed so familiar. But please, allow me to introduce my mother, Mrs Anderson, and my sister, Miss Isabel Anderson.”

It took only a handful of moments before Sophie was certain that Miss Haverly and Miss Whimmerly had much in common with Jonathan and Sarah’s kindness and good humour, and nothing at all with the coldness and false pride of Lady Phoebe Ferrars and her odious son.

Had she really been about to gain Miss Haverly as her aunt by marriage, Sophie would have felt herself to be prodigiously lucky.

The older woman was open and welcoming to her supposed niece-to-be, quite entirely charming, and Sophie felt a serious pang at the thought of deceiving her.

She only hoped that Miss Haverly would forgive her, once the truth was known.

Perhaps Jonathan would make her excuses for her. After all, the plan had been his.

Before they had said half as much as they might have liked, Madame Duvall summoned the Anderson family to see their gowns, and they were forced to say goodbye to their new acquaintances.

In fact, there was not much time for delay.

Their appointment was none too soon, for the next ball would be held by the Collinses only three nights hence.

Sophie was rather surprised to receive the invitation, and had been less than fully inclined to accept it.

The persuasive powers of her mother, who saw in it a prime chance for Isabel to be known to more worthy young men, whatever they might think of the hosts, and of the duke, who thought it the perfect occasion to lure Mary Collins yet deeper into their trap, had at last overruled her.

And at any rate, Sophie thought, my gown is wonderful.

It had been made specifically to complement her grandmother’s ruby necklace, and if Sophie had ever doubted Madam Duvall’s genius, this gown would have put an end to it.

It was simple almost to the point of starkness, with the tiniest, most delicate touches of lace imaginable at the sleeves.

Both gown and lace were flawlessly, brilliantly white, with a nearly invisible pattern of tiny roses woven into the silk of her bodice.

But Sophie’s favourite touch of all was the silk rosebuds Madam Duvall had made to go in her hair, each one echoing one of the rubies in her necklace.

Sophie was not accustomed to excitement over her own appearance. But in this case, she could not help it. Madam Duvall’s artistry had left her no choice.

Through no virtue of my own, Sophie thought merrily, I look exquisite.

Isabel’s gown was a buttery, golden yellow, one that Sophie adored on her little sister and thought would have made her look bilious had she attempted to wear it herself.

It perfectly echoed the soft gleam of the pearls around her neck and the yellow silk rosebuds Madam Duval had made to complement Sophie’s.

Their mother was no less fine in dove grey silk figured with a pattern of leaves.

Sitting in the parlour and waiting for the Haverly carriage to arrive, each could hardly look their fill of the others. Mrs Anderson spoke all their thoughts.

“I may be thought prideful, indeed, but I must say we are a fine-looking family.”

“You look so happy, Sophie,” Isabel added. “I think adventures and intrigue agree with you.”

Sophie laughed happily with them. “You may be right. At any rate, I haven’t been so excited for a ball in years. I have a good feeling about tonight.”

“As do I,” Isabel agreed.

“And I,” Mrs Anderson chimed in. They smiled at each other. Only moments later, their brief wait came to an end as Giles entered and announced the Duke of Belford and Lady Sarah.

“Good evening, Mrs Anderson. Good evening, Miss Anderson, Miss Isabel Anderson,” Jonathan said.

His words were formal, but his eyes sparkled at Sophie with a secret message.

She felt her lips curve of their own volition.

He would not acknowledge it before Giles, but it was obvious Jonathan was no less excited for the evening’s intrigue than she.

No doubt Mary Collins thought to test their engagement with the advantage of joining battle on her home ground.

Perhaps she might even hope to reveal it as false herself.

No matter, Sophie thought. Mary Collins will learn that I am capable of just as much intrigue and subtlety as she — at least, in a just cause.

Isabel barely waited until they had all exchanged polite greetings before pouncing on Sarah to exchange praises of both their gowns.

Sarah, too, had benefited from Isabel’s excellent taste and Madam Duval’s exceptional skill.

Her dark hair was assembled into a mass of braids, crowned with an ornament of pink pearls that perfectly matched her necklace. Isabel exclaimed over its perfection.

“It is a present from Jonathan, for the ball,” Sarah told her. “He is much too good to me, you know.”

“I know no such thing!” Isabel playfully scolded her friend.

Sarah’s gown was a lovely light green, perfectly embellished with flowers embroidered in pale pink along the cuffs and hem.

“But I do know that we had better get in the carriage, if we are to arrive at the Collins’s townhouse in good time. ”

“You are entirely right, Miss Isabel,” Jonathan said, and led the way to the carriage.

He half-regretted the lost chance to confer with Sophie in greater privacy than they would enjoy on enemy territory, but after all, it was hardly necessary.

Their plan was simplicity itself. Merely keep up the charade, allow Mary Collins to embroil herself yet further in the eyes of the ton , and prepare for the time to come when they would reveal all.

Simple enough , Jonathan thought ruefully. Of course, most battle plans are. Until you meet the enemy.

“Have you ever visited the Collinses before, Your Grace?” Isabel asked.

He shook his head. “It is only within the last generation that they have had the wealth to put on such an event. I believe they have been working their way up the social ladder, if you will excuse a vulgar phrase and a still more vulgar idea.”

“Even now, they will see my brother’s acceptance as a social triumph,” Sarah put in.

“Our families have never visited each other, but both our aunts have mentioned them to me. Aunt Phoebe says I shouldn’t form an acquaintance because they’re nouveau riche .

Aunt Jennifer says I should keep away from them because Mary Collins is a gossip, and an unkind gossip to boot. ”

Jonathan shook his head. “It just goes to show that Aunt Jennifer has the best judgement of us all,” he said ruefully. “I confess I had no idea that I should warn you against the family. Or, indeed, that I should be on guard myself.”

“She was not always so selfish,” Mrs Anderson said quietly. “I have exchanged letters with Mrs Collins for many years. Our grandmothers were sisters, you know. And there was a time when I was quite happy to have Mary as a playmate for my Sophie.”

“As was I,” Sophie said. “I don’t know what to think of it. I suppose people change. Perhaps one day, she will change for the better.”

Isabel wrinkled her nose. On her, the gesture managed to look elegant. “I shall hope for it, but I shan’t hold my breath,” she said dryly, and the party dissolved into chuckles.

After a short ride through lamp-lit streets, the carriage pulled up at the Collins’s doorstep. Light poured from the many windows facing the street, sparkling from hundreds of candles and massive chandeliers. As they ascended the steps, excited chatter poured out from the crowd inside.

“It appears they have invited all London,” Sophie said to Jonathan, her voice too low for the others to catch.

He squeezed her hand in answer, one of the many benefits to being able to take her arm and assist her up the stairs. “All the better for our plans,” he murmured. “Let everyone see her commit herself.”

Sophie gave him a nod and a smile of assent. One of the Collins’s footmen was too near to risk further comment.

Then they passed the doors into the ballroom. “It is astonishing,” she murmured.