Page 17 of Sophia’s Letter (Ladies of Munro #1)

E ven from her seated position on the far side of the room, Sophia could make out the unmistakable figure of Miss Irene Sangford. Their adversary had gone to a lot of trouble to make herself appealing. She certainly was very clever. Instead of feathers and gem-studded silver, which were favored by young women keen to show off their wealth, Miss Sangford had chosen a single velvet ribbon at her neck. It was simple and elegant, designed to attract a very particular sort of man to whom money was irrelevant.

Her dress, too, was classical rather than ostentatious. It suggested taste. This, the ensemble told the observer, was a woman of quality. She was not here to impress, but to quietly sip from the cup of culture. Sophia had to hand it to her. She was no amateur.

In keeping with her pretense, Miss Sangford ignored the eligible gentlemen present and made a beeline for Sophia. She pasted an expression of pure joy upon her face as she approached, and said, a little too loudly, “Miss Grant! Thank you so much for the invitation. I was meant to be away in Steeples with my family. But when I heard you were doing a reading of your poems, I simply had to come! My parents have generously delayed their travels until next week so that I might attend.”

It was such an outrageous lie that Sophia momentarily forgot the risk of calling her out on it.

“Did your parents not wish to join us, since such sacrifice was made to be here?” she inquired.

Miss Sangford’s smile froze. It was discarded in favor of a slow, sad shake of the head. “Alas, my mother is fatigued from all the arrangements that have been made. And my father never attends a social gathering without her. They are very devoted to each other, you know. I can only hope to have a marriage half as happy as theirs.”

Unable to fake a modest blush, she opted for tilting her fan coyly at her face, as if hiding the non-existent surge of color in her face.

Sophia was both disgusted and impressed. The woman was a master actress, albeit one with no scruples. If Lord Carthige hadn’t been a confirmed bachelor, he would have been easy prey.

Fanning herself languidly, Miss Sangford cast her eyes upon the other guests and pretended to notice the earl for the first time.

“Ah, I see your neighbor is in attendance. What noble friends you have, Miss Grant. I wonder if it would be possible to be introduced to him? I believe we have mutual interests.”

Now that the moment had come, Sophia was very unwilling to see it through. But a bargain had been struck. There was no way around it.

“I shall ask his nephew to do the honors,” she said grudgingly, “as I am unable to leave my seat without exerting myself. You remember Mr. Mannerly, I hope?”

Miss Sangford looked Tobias up and down, settling at last on a look of happy surprise. “Ah, yes, I thought you looked familiar. Help me, if you will. Where was it we met before?”

Sophia wished she could kick their tormentor in the shins and get away with it. The vixen could do with a good thrashing. How she slept at night with all the mischief she plotted by day was beyond Sophia’s extensive imagination. Humph! In all likelihood, she slept like a baby, having no moral compass to burden her thoughts.

If his rigid body language was any indication, Tobias was equally appalled by Miss Sangford’s question. He glared at her, clenching his jaw before answering.

“I believe it was at church.”

“So it was! A wedding, if I recall. Although for the moment, I cannot quite put my finger on whose wedding it was.”

The warning shot had been fired.

Tobias heeded it, balling his fists at the manipulation, then releasing them helplessly. “This way, if you please.” He gestured. “My uncle is over there, standing beside Lord Howell.”

Sophia hated having to see him beholden unto a person of such low character. It grieved her that the reason he was bound thus was to protect her. She saw Miss Sangford’s face fill with triumph as she lifted it toward her target, her eyes gleaming, her lips pouting. And then Sophia watched that triumph drain away.

“The viscount is with him.” Miss Sangford did not seem pleased. But, then again, when was she ever pleased unless she was plotting mischief?

“Yes,” Tobias said, “they are friends.”

“You did not tell me this.”

Was that an edge of panic in her voice? Miss Sangford kept her gaze focused rigidly on the viscount, not stirring a muscle, rather like a doe who hoped the hunter would not notice her before he moved on. Sophia grimaced at the thought. Miss Sangford was no gentle-eyed doe.

“Why would I mention their friendship?” Tobias enquired. “What relevance did it have to our arrangement? You demanded to meet Lord Carthige. We have complied. What does it matter whether Lord Howell attends also?”

“You must separate them.”

Sophia, watching the scene unfold between Tobias and his nemesis, drew a delicious conclusion. She declared it with relish. “Lord Howell knows you! Well enough not to like you! You’re afraid he’ll reveal your wiles to the earl.”

“Hush!” Miss Sangford bit back in a low voice. “People will hear you. You don’t want your secrets exposed any more than I do.”

“What would you have us do?” Tobias asked. “I have no excuse to call Lord Howell away. You are going to have to put on your best facade and hope his lordship believes you are a changed woman.”

“That man,” Miss Sangford said through grinding teeth, “is a buffoon. For all his money and fine breeding, he wouldn’t know a good woman if she sat right on his lap!”

“Tried it, have you?” Sophia couldn’t help herself. There was nothing in their agreement that said she had to be polite.

Her enemy gave her a withering glare.

“It would be amusing if my uncle were to look this way at this exact moment,” said Tobias.

They waited as Miss Sangford struggled to swallow her rage, attempt a smile, and fail miserably. The result was a rather frightening rictus, which Sophia would have loved for Lord Carthige to see.

“I’ll show you amusing ,” Miss Sangford said, her lips tight with the effort at smiling. “You get Lord Howell away from the earl, or I leave now and start writing a detailed letter to our host. I might even add a few trimmings if I let my imagination go.”

When Tobias did not move, she added, “Now, if you please.”

He looked helplessly at Sophia. She had no idea what to do. Her nerves were already strained with the public attention on her. Miss Sangford’s threat pushed her up against a wall. Her brief satisfaction at seeing her enemy writhe was spent. All that remained was fear. Her heart began to race. Her throat was closing. She looked for Katie, her wide eyes signaling for help. Katie materialized in an instant, grabbing an aromatic pouch from her mistress’s reticule and holding it firmly beneath her nose.

“Don’t… let… my father… see,” Sophia panted between gulps of breath.

Tobias shifted to block her from view. “Use your fan,” he instructed Miss Sangford. She remained motionless, except for a look of disdain that spread across her features. “Look,” he urged, “if Mr. Grant thinks she cannot manage, he will send everyone home. That includes you and my uncle. Now, use your fan!”

The reluctant small breeze offered Sophia some relief from the stifling heat in the room. The fact that Miss Sangford was forced to help revive her offered relief of a different kind. Her heart slowed. The tension ebbed. Her breathing eased. Her thoughts cleared. In fact, this uncomfortable episode had given her exactly the inspiration she needed.

“Take…your uncle…to the library,” she told Tobias, gradually gaining sufficient breath to do so. “You know where it is. There is still time…before the reading. I will tell my father I wish to rest a while before we start. The library is but two doors down. It is warm, but empty. My father will accept my being moved there. I have greeted enough people. He will likely want to stay at my side, but Miss Sangford could do a little show of concern and come with me instead. Introductions can be made there while my father tends to the viscount. Are we in accord?”

“It’s worth a try,” Tobias agreed. “Do you think you can feign concern, Miss Sangford?”

She appeared immune to his slight, lowering her lashes and speaking in an even tone. “You fetch Lord Carthige, and I will manage my part quite nicely. Just make sure he doesn’t bring his friend along to the library. How you do that is up to you.”

Tobias gave a glance of despair to Sophia, his brow furrowed, his mouth slack. He was not, by nature, devious. He had not lived a life like hers that required it. She nodded at him with encouragement.

“Just remind his lordship why he is here,” she coaxed.

It was a subtle enough clue to go right over the head of Miss Sangford. But Tobias would understand. He set off across the room, shoulders squared.

He approached his uncle, turned to indicate Sophia, and then gestured toward the library. A short discussion ensued, then agreement. Tobias and Lord Carthige began to make their way across the crowded room. When the viscount made to join them, Tobias stopped. He lowered his head, then tilted it slightly in reference to the other guests. Lord Howell’s cheeks became touched with color. He appeared quite deflated. What must have been words of encouragement followed. Sophia could not read lips, but she could have sworn the earl said, “Chin up, old boy.” At which point there was a sigh and a look of resignation. The viscount resumed his confident air, though it demanded no small effort. Mere seconds after his companions left without him, the wretched soul was surrounded by mothers, eager to introduce their daughters.

“Foolish things,” Miss Sangford sneered. “They’re welcome to him. You wouldn’t catch me fawning over him like that.”

“Is that because you’ve already had your turn?” Sophia asked sweetly.

Miss Sangford looked down at Sophia from her considerable height, made more so by the fact that Sophia was sitting down.

“If I’m going to marry for money and status, I prefer an older man. There wouldn’t be as many years to put up with him before the poor dear was off to the Elysian Fields. I think I am rather well suited for the role of dowager countess, don’t you think?”

Sophia’s blood boiled at such callous words. She felt her cheeks glow with revulsion.

“Goodness, are you feeling unwell?” Miss Sangford asked, slipping smoothly into her mask. “I shall ask your father to come at once.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Sophia warned. “We want him to let me rest in the library, not be spirited away to my room and the event canceled.”

Miss Sangford waved her fingers over her shoulder as she glided through the cluster of bodies to reach Mr. Grant. Seconds later, he was hurrying toward Sophia. There was just enough time for Lord Howell to catch a glimpse of Miss Sangford and frown.

“What’s the matter?” Mr. Grant asked, his forehead pleated with worry.

“Nothing, Papa. It’s just so hot and stuffy. I was thinking to sit in the library a while. I’ve greeted everybody, and there is still time before my reading starts. I would just like to catch my breath.”

Her father considered this. “You would tell me if it was all too much for you, wouldn’t you? I know how much this means to you. But you must not put your health at risk.”

“I promise, Papa. A half hour in the library is exactly what I need. I can go through my poems in private, without the eyes of our guests upon me.”

“Very well. Katie must stay with you. I will check on you as often as I can.”

Seizing the moment, Miss Sangford inserted herself into his line of sight, dripping with honeyed tones. “I could avail myself to Miss Grant, if you would permit me. I am content to browse your collection as long as she fares well. If something were amiss, I would be right there and could support her while young Katie finds you.”

“That is very kind, Miss…”

“Sangford. Descended from the Hanover San fords. You may have heard of us.” She raised her fan coyly. “Of course, we don’t speak of it often, but it has been suggested we are distant cousins to Her Majesty.”

“Suggested by whom?” Sophia asked before she could stop herself.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Miss Sangford replied, looking down at Sophia over the frill of her fan. “One does not like to ask such indelicate questions.”

Mr. Grant cleared his throat. “Yes, well, thank you for your kind offer, Miss Sangford. I would be most grateful for my Sophia to have a companion of good standing while she rests. You will certainly be able to provide more depth of conversation than Katie. She attends well to her mistress, but I often wonder if my daughter does not want for more refined company.”

“Katie has always been more than sufficient, Papa,” Sophia retorted. “She may not be an aficionado of poetry, but that’s what I have my many correspondents for.”

“You have always borne it well,” her father answered sadly. “But the absence of your mother robs you of a woman’s comfort.”

“I was under the impression you have sisters, Miss Grant,” purred Miss Sangford. “That must surely be some consolation to you. Perhaps you might introduce us and we could visit with you together in the library.”

“Bess is not yet out in society,” replied Sophia, burying the urge to thump the woman with her volume of poems. It would be the highest form of poetic justice she could deliver. “And Adriana is…away.” She glanced at her father. His ears were burning, but he remained silent. Of course he would. Unless he was forcibly reminded of her, Adriana did not exist.

“Father, I will need a footman,” she hinted, though really she just wanted him as far away from Miss Sangford—descendant of the Hanover San fords—as possible.

“I will have one sent to you. And I will look in on you presently.” He touched his forelock to his guest, who lowered her eyes demurely.

The moment he left, Sophia hissed at Miss Sangford, “What are you playing at? My father is a suspicious man. Do not goad him. You will undo your own scheme. And us along with it.”

A smug response formed on Miss Sangford’s lips, but it summarily dissolved when the footman approached. He lifted Sophia in a smooth, practiced motion. She placed her arms around his neck—an action that should have felt intimate, tender, but never did. It was done merely to steady herself, an attempt to maintain a bearing of dignity in an undignified position. What he felt, she could not say. Perhaps it was simply a task to be completed. Maybe, like Katie, he performed his duty with an added sense of kindness and loyalty.

Regardless of his motives, he transported Sophia carefully to the library, a minor hero in her story, while her adversary followed like an ominous shadow.