Cal lifted his head. ‘I would give it about thirty seconds before your parents come through that door. Call me lily-livered if you like, but I have no desire to be lectured by your mama for unleashing my unbridled lusts in her drawing room.’
Sophie was still in his arms, still laughing, when the door opened, just as he had predicted. Mama looked bemused, as though laughter was not what she had expected. Step Papa seemed relieved. Had he thought she might have refused Cal? She knew she had been a worry to him with her steady refusals to accept perfectly eligible suitors and her rejection of romance.
Kisses and hugs for her. A handshake for Cal and, to his barely concealed alarm, a kiss from her mother.
‘Now.’ Mama settled in a swirl of skirts and beamed at them. ‘We need to fix a date.’
‘A month’s time,’ Cal said, clashing with Step Papa’s, ‘Six weeks at least.’
‘Two months,’ Mama pronounced, her smile steely.
Cal’s eyes narrowed and Sophie thought of protesting that she was of age and that she could marry when she liked, then bit back the protest. Two months and then start her married life in perfect amity with the parents she loved or begin it in a squabble that would inevitably sour their feelings for Cal. ‘Very well, Mama, if you feel that would be best.’ She met his gaze with a rueful smile and saw he understood. He wasn’t happy though. Unbridled lusts…
‘And the church.’ Mama was happily working down a mental list. ‘St George’s Hanover Square? Or would you prefer to be married from Long Hampton?’
‘That is Step Papa’s country estate,’ Sophie explained. ‘It would be the village church because the house does not have its own chapel.’ She hesitated, not wanting to hurt Step Papa’s feelings by saying that the house was rather small for the number of guests a ducal wedding would demand. ‘I do find the vicar rather dour.’
‘Yes, he is, poor man,’ Mama agreed. ‘He is capable of making any ceremony gloomy, which is perfect for funerals, but otherwise… not.’
‘With a special licence we may marry where we choose,’ Cal said. ‘Calderbrook has its own chapel. But you would want to see it before deciding. In fact I have no doubt you would like to see the house and meet the staff in advance of arriving as the duchess.’
‘That sounds perfect,’ Sophie said hastily over Mama’s faint murmurings about St George’s.
‘Then I will organise a house party for, shall we say, ten days’ time? That will give you the opportunity to start on your shopping, place orders with your modiste and make whatever mysterious preparations a trousseau involves.’ He waited for their agreement. ‘Why not invite your bridesmaids? We will make a party of, say, twenty for a week or ten days? That will give you the opportunity to see how the house functions and we can decide over the wedding arrangements.’ He smiled at her parents, then sent her a look that she had no difficulty interpreting. There would be more than enough opportunities for deliciously unbridled lusts at Calderbrook.
‘I would like that very much.’ She swept on before Mama could find any reason why that was not a wonderful idea. ‘Shall we make a guest list for the house party now? Then we can send out invitations immediately.’
‘I… very well. We will leave you to do just that. You are very thoughtful, Your Grace.’ Mama got to her feet, hesitated as though uncertain whether or not to embrace Cal again and eventually went out, her husband at her heels. The door stayed open halfway this time. Mama presumably knew all about the temptations of proximity.
She felt suddenly shy. ‘Thank you for not pressing the issue about the date. I would not want to spoil my last days here with any dissention.’
Cal seemed to have caught her formality. ‘You are quite right, and it is your decision. I must confess to impatience.’
‘Yes,’ Sophie murmured as she seated herself at the little table in the corner that served as the ladies’ writing desk.
Cal picked up a chair, set it beside hers and bent to take her lips in a hard, fleeting kiss. ‘That must suffice for now. Pick up that pen before my resolve weakens. You and me, your parents, my uncle and his wife, Ralph. That is seven. I would add Jared Hunt. Eight. Your bridesmaids?’
‘There are three unmarried friends I would like to have, and one who is married, so that would add five with her husband. May I ask Toby?’
‘Of course. That makes thirteen which leaves us seven more to find. Who else?’
It took them half an hour to finalise the list, adding some of Cal’s re-found friends and another married couple to reassure the mothers of the single girls. ‘If anyone we ask would like to suggest a friend, we can expand on the twenty,’ he said as Sophie copied the list out again for him to send his half of the invitations. ‘It is a big house.’
‘How big?’ Her stomach gave a little swoop. Duchess, big house… It is going to be vast and so is everything to do with this marriage. Vast numbers of servants, of tenants, of ancestors, of responsibilities. I have not just agreed to marry a man but a small nation state.
‘About twenty principal bedchambers as I recall.’ Cal was frowning with the effort to remember and did not appear to notice her convulsive grip on the table edge. Best not to ask how many minor bedchambers. ‘Not that I took much notice before. I wasn’t very well for a lot of the time I was growing up and housekeeping details just passed me by.’
‘What was wrong with you?’ She had rarely seen a healthier specimen of manhood and it was hard to imagine Cal laid low by anything for long.
‘Some childhood ailment, I suppose.’ He shrugged. ‘The doctors never came up with a diagnosis, but it cleared up after I went abroad.’
What aren’t you telling me? He was just too casual about it, too glib. The temptation to ask Ralph was strong, but that would be disloyal. Probably Cal was embarrassed by a perceived weakness and would tell her all about it when they knew each other a little better.
Men require managing, Mama always said, although Sophie recognised that she managed Step Papa far less than she had Papa, which was interesting. Papa had not regarded women as anything but decorative accessories. To be loved and cherished, certainly, but if anyone had suggested that a female had a brain capable of reasoning and decision-making beyond the menu for the week or the choice of a bonnet, he would have thought they were mad. But Step Papa not only loved her mother, he admired her, asked her opinion, shared decisions.
‘Do you think me merely a decorative accessory?’ she asked before she had time to think about it.
Cal paused in the process of tu