As he handed her the parcel, his eyes met Sophie’s with a look that was suddenly so intense that her own fell before it. She smiled shyly, and Tony watched delightedly as a deep dimple appeared in each cheek. But before Sophie could reply, Mr. Rollo spoke again with strong emotion.
“Dear fellow!” From the number of times he had addressed Tony in this manner, Sophie had to conclude that Tony had become very dear to Mr. Rollo, indeed. “You flatter me beyond words.” He seemed overcome by Tony’s last remarks and clearly thought them a direct compliment to himself.
But Sophie had by now untied the ribbon and unwrapped the thin paper to the parcel, and had found the small book of Shakespeare’s sonnets inside. It was a beautifully bound volume with a soft leather backing, deeply set letters and pages edged in gold.
Breathing a gentle “oh,” she cradled the book reverently in her hands. Its contents were very familiar to her, but Sophie had never owned such a precious volume. And she now understood the significance of Sir Tony’s last words. Looking up to thank him, she was disappointed to find that Mr. Rollo was still claiming his attention. But, she thought, at least she had been able to open it without that gentleman’s eyes upon her. She tucked the small book into the folds of her gown, planning to hide it there until she could take a moment to run up to her room.
The two gentlemen’s conversation had by now turned to hunting, and Sophie’s father had joined in it as a thirsty animal draws near a water hole. Sophie could hear Tony’s voice posing an occasional intelligent question, and she smiled, recalling his similar behaviour at the Royal Academy. Promising herself to charge him later with affecting his guileless demeanor and to thank him for his lovely gift, she turned to the task of entertaining her other guests until dinner was announced. But as soon as the Corbys’ butler concluded his invitation to the company at large, Sophie felt a touch upon her arm and, smiling, she turned to find Tony there.
“You have not forgotten your promise to take dinner with me, I hope, Miss Corby,” he said.
“Not at all, sir,” she replied. She glanced over in the direction where she had just seen him and found that her father and Mr. Rollo were eagerly conversing in loud tones, oblivious to the movement toward the dining room.
“I see that you have left a rather interesting discussion,” she said, nodding her head in their direction. “I hope you were not forced to abandon it on my account.” She smiled accusingly at him.
But Tony appeared quite unconcerned. “Oh, no. Indeed not. Sir John and Mr. Rollo are having a rather technical discussion about how to keep their hunters fit in the off-season. It is too complex for me—I really could not follow it.” He smiled down at her so broadly that she could see how pleased he was to have her to himself.
Sophie felt a quickening response inside her breast, but she was not ready to thank him for his gift, and she had no intention of letting him off so easily.
“I wonder how the discussion began,’’ she said, having a fairly good idea of the answer.
“Now let me see,” said Tony with a frown of concentration. “I believe that I may have mentioned something inadvertently which might have opened the subject. Something about something a friend of mine once said. But I was only trying to make conversation, you know. I really care very little about it.”
“Yes,” said Sophie, “so you have told me.” Her look left no doubt about her opinion of his motives.
And, indeed, she saw out the corner of her eye that her mother had just recalled her father to dinner, and that he was looking about the room for Sophie, his hand clasping Mr. Rollo’s arm. When he spotted her entering the dining room with Tony, he frowned deeply and his face reddened quickly. Avoiding his eye, Sophie made for the safety of the table, knowing it was too late for Sir John to do anything about her dinner partner now.
In spite of the glares she sensed coming her way from time to time during the meal that followed, Sophie thought she had never enjoyed a birthday celebration more than she did that evening. Tony’s companionship was at all times uplifting to her spirits. She felt strangely alive and unaccustomedly alert whenever she was with him. And this was the first time that she had sat so long beside him and had him so much to herself.
By a fortunate coincidence, the couple to either side of them were also happy with their choices of dinner partners and very little in the way of interruptions came between them. Tony kept her amused with the half-serious, half-teasing sort of talk he seemed to make. And presently, she did find the right moment to thank him for his gift, in a trembling voice that did not conceal her delight.
“I am glad you liked it,” he said, obviously pleased. “I have found myself rereading them of late and hoped you would not be offended to receive them from me.’’ He watched for her reaction to his words, but Sophie lowered her eyelashes in confusion, unable to meet his direct gaze. Uncertain whether she should read too much into his meaning, she answered in a rallying tone.
“Of course not. How could I be? But I confess myself disappointed not to hear the birthday ode you wrote for me.” She half-expected him to deny the existence of one, but to her surprise he did not.
“In that case, I shall tell it to you one day, but you must excuse me from reading it before anyone else. After Mr. Rollo’s performance, I should be unmanned by the public attention.”
Sophie looked up in surprise. “You mean there really is one? When shall I hear it? You really do mean to tell it to me?”
Tony’s lips twitched in amusement, but he nodded sincerely. “I do. But I shall wait for the time to be right.”
‘‘And when shall that be?”
“Soon,” he answered. ‘‘You’ll remember that my friends do not consider me much of a poet, but I shall hope beyond hope that my poem does please you.”
Sophie gave him a sceptical look, her head a bit to one side. “How do I know whether or not to believe you, Sir Tony? When I first met you, I thought you the most open of gentlemen. And yet, I have learned there are times when you are not always so guileless as you appear.” She examined him from beneath her lashes, but Tony only grinned.
‘‘Peculiar, isn’t it, Miss Corby?” he agreed. Then turning his blue gaze on her he added, “I wonder, have you any theories as to the possible reason for my strange behaviour of late?” Sophie looked up to see his eyes twinkling merrily. His smile was so radiant it left her with no doubt as to his meaning. Her heart beat strangely within her, and she made no attempt to hide her answering dimples.
When dinner was nearly over, Tony remembered to tell her that she and her mother would soon be receiving a card from some of his friends to attend a salon and that he would be pleased to take them in his carriage if they would accept. Sophie told him she was certain they would be delighted to go and would send him a message as soon as they received their invitation.
“Good,” said Tony. “I hope you will enjoy it. The salons are usually held in the afternoon, and they are remarkably informal. I think you will like the people you meet there. They are not all sportsmen,’’ he finished with a chuckle.
Sophie laughed, but mostly at herself. During the past month in London she had come to realize that it was her own family and not Sir Tony who was eccentric.
The meal was too soon over and with it Tony’s time alone with Sophie. For as soon as the gentlemen joined the ladies after their port, Sir John made certain that Mr. Rollo got the post nearest his daughter, and it was not until they parted for the evening that Sophie was able to speak to Tony again. As he took his leave of the entire family, he made a point of thanking Sophie’s mother for the excellent dinner and finished by issuing an invitation.
“Lady Corby,’’ he said, “my mother has requested me to invite you and Miss Corby to tea at her house next Thursday. She lives in Notting Hill, and I should be happy to escort you.”
Lady Corby was almost flustered by the invitation, but after glancing once at Sophie’s pleased expression, she accepted it with pleasure.
She was fully conscious that an invitation of this kind could mean that Sir Tony was anxious for his mother to meet and approve Sophie. But if she had not been, Sir John’s frown would have alerted her. A time was agreed upon, and Tony took his leave, not forgetting to wish Sophie a happy birthday once again.
Sir John managed to hold his tongue until the last of the guests had departed, but since that last guest was Mr. Rollo, he was careful to say nothing until the door had closed behind him. Then, however, he immediately called Sophie to account, over the protests of his wife, for “sequestering herself with that Farnham fellow.”
Ignoring Lady Corby’s defense of her daughter he said, “How she could eat with a thistle-whipper like Farnham when Rollo had just delivered a birthday ode to her, I cannot imagine. Have you no sense of what is due to the young man, Sophie?”
“Certainly, Papa,” lied Sophie, not wishing to raise her father’s ire, “but Sir Tony had asked to be my dinner partner quite early in the evening before anyone else had. And I had no reason to refuse him. Why, Mr. Rollo never once raised the notion.”
“Humpph!” snorted Sir John, only ruffled by this reasonable answer. “And Farnham saw to it that Rollo did not have the chance. Kept him busy talking to himself the whole evening. Well, I’ll give him one thing. He’s no slow top.”
Sophie repressed a smile, but her father’s next remark was less to her liking.
“I do not like this scheme of his to take you to meet his mother. It smacks of something. I’ll not say what, but I don’t want you to encourage him, Sophie. He’s not the man for you.”
Lady Corby spoke quickly, “Oh, Sir John! I do not think you need fear that Sir Tony’s invitation has any special significance. Why, there has been no hint of it. I should think he has just persuaded his mother to give us a treat in view of our limited acquaintance in Town. He has tried to make our time here as pleasant as possible. It is really most kind.”
Her words seemed to have a beneficial effect upon her husband’s temper, for he did not snort again, but mumbled something about not needing any kindness from him. Then he said, “Well, if that is the way it is, you may go, but I do not want you to make a habit of always being seen in his company. People might get the wrong impression. And there is no need for more acquaintances. We shall be gone from London soon, and we shall have no need for them then.”
Sophie knew that what he was saying was all too true. She could not count on her father’s staying in London even until the end of the social season. He would have scores of things to do to prepare for next November’s hunting. But she was grateful to her mother for playing down the importance of Tony’s invitation if it meant that her father would allow them to go. He seemed to have developed a strong objection to Tony since meeting Mr. Rollo, and she was in no doubt as to his mind. He wanted to have her married to Rollo before this year’s hunting season could start.
Lady Corby was watching her daughter’s face as she digested these thoughts. She had only recently begun to suspect that Sophie had a preference for Sir Tony and until tonight had not realized that it might be mutual. Up until now, Sir Tony had not singled Sophie out for his attention. He had always been careful not to embarrass her with too much obvious devotion and had instead acted the pleasant guest with them all. Now, it seemed otherwise, and while Lady Corby liked him very much, she was afraid that Sir John would not allow the suit to prosper, preferring as he clearly did the prospect of having Mr. Rollo for a son-in-law. She, however, planned to do her utmost to allow Sophie to have her choice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The day of the expedition to Notting Hill arrived, and both Lady Corby and Sophie could be glad that Sir John was not at home to see them off. He had left for his club earlier in the day and seemed to have forgotten their plans entirely. They hoped to be home before he could find them gone and recall his grievances on the occasion.
It was a brisk late-April day, unusually sunny but without too much wind, and Sophie considered it a grand day for a drive. Tony drove his team at a careful pace to Oxford Street and then faster as they passed the entrance to Hyde Park and headed out into the country. Sophie was seated beside her mother in the carriage so there was not much opportunity for her to converse with Tony in the city, but once they were beyond the rows of buildings, he was able to turn his head to give an occasional answer over his shoulder.
“Does your mother stay in the city for much of the year, Sir Tony?” enquired Lady Corby.
“Well, yes and no, Lady Corby,” answered Tony. “You see, the house to which we are going is now mother’s country place, but it is close enough to the city to allow her to drive in whenever she wishes. She keeps a town house open at all times and prefers never to be too far from it. But she has taken the house in Notting Hill so that she can pursue her more rural interests.”
“Does she not visit you in Hampshire?” asked Sophie.
They could hear the amusement in Tony’s voice as he answered, “No, never. She abhors the place. It reminds her too forcibly of my father. I cannot say that I blame her, but I, of course, was at school most of the time, so it is easier for me to forget that he was ever there. He seldom was in the holidays, anyway. He was away at the races.”
“Theirs was not a happy marriage, then?” asked Lady Corby sympathetically.
“No,” said Tony. Then after a pause he added impishly, “Miss Corby, I had hoped you would say voluntarily and rather spontaneously that at least it had produced me!” Sophie giggled by way of response and obliged him, although without the spontaneity for which he had wished. And even Lady Corby laughed at his impudence.
They arrived at Lady Farnham’s before long. Indeed, Sophie was surprised at the quickness of the journey and could only credit the skill of Tony’s driving, which had taken them over the roads at a spanking pace without causing them any discomfort. They found themselves at a charming Georgian house, which was somewhat larger than might be expected for a widow without her own fortune. Tony explained that his mother often entertained guests for days at a time, but that the house was now empty of company.