‘Tea please. Your kisses were persuasive but your superior bathing arrangements clinched the argument I was having with myself.’ She watched him as he carried her cup over to her, saw the laughter-creases at the corners of his eyes deepen and let out the breath she had been holding. He did have a sense of humour, even about this.
When he sat and began to stir his own coffee he was serious again. ‘I am relieved, both by your decision and the fact you took time to make it. It is good to know that you want me for more than my title, even if it is my bath tub that made up your mind.’ No, not entirely serious, on the surface, but there was truth behind the bantering words.
‘When I made my list of necessary qualities for a husband I included well-bred and well-off because I want to remain in contact with my friends and my family and with the world I know,’ Sophie said carefully. ‘But anyone who was received and who was in easy circumstances would have done, if I had liked them. An earl or a viscount would probably have been more comfortable and considerably less work.’
‘You are telling me that my title is an encumbrance?’ Cal was making good inroads into the kidneys, the sensitive nature of the conversation apparently having no effect on his appetite.
‘Neutral, I would say.’
This time his smile reached his lips as well as his eyes. There was a faint tap at the door which opened to half way. ‘My spies are warning me that we have about two minutes before your parents get here. After breakfast would you like me to show you over the house before our – my – guests start to arrive?’
‘That would be interesting, thank you.’
They were discussing the rival merits of Weymouth and Brighton as seaside resorts when her parents came in, preceded by the footmen who bustled about to such effect that it hid the fact that the two of the had been alone and quite unchaperoned. Cal was certainly a considerable strategist.
The house was so large that it took all morning for them to do nothing more than walk through from room to room, and that omitted the attics, the nursery floor, the stables, the basement and cellars and the staff areas. When they finally reached the Long Gallery Sophie collapsed laughing in one of the cushioned benches in the window bays and refused to go any further.
‘I am exhausted, stunned, impressed and horrified,’ she announced. ‘I cannot manage another step. How many miles have we walked?’
Cal shrugged. ‘No idea. We could measure it out, there are large scale plans in the library.’ He sat down at the other end of the seat, stooped to take hold of her ankles, swung her feet up and pulled off her shoes. ‘Sit still and stop wriggling. Are you ticklish?’
‘No. Yes. Cal!’ He was massaging her feet, one large hand enveloping each foot, his thumbs working firmly on the aching arches. ‘Ouch… Oh, that is bliss.’
It was surprisingly easy to do as he said, despite the fact that he – a man – had her stockinged feet in his hands, that his long fingers were weaving all kinds of patterns over and under them and occasionally trailing daring fingertips up her ankles. ‘It feels as though we have done this before, sat here alone, ve
ry tranquil, very intimate… It feels familiar.’
‘Just lean back, relax.’ Under his hands the slender bones of her feet, the high sensitive arches, were as satisfying to caress as a fine piece of sculpture, only this statue was alive. ‘It feels right.’ Cal stopped the massage, swung his own legs up, fitted his feet on the bench between hers, leaned back against the folded shutter and closed his eyes.
He had recoiled from the thought of Madeleine here with her moods and her temper and her insecurities. But Sophie, this woman, this lovely, straightforward, honest, brave woman who stood up to him and spoke her mind, she was perfect.
He was going to have to tell her about his suspicions before much more time had passed. It was only fair and he knew now he could trust her discretion.
The thrumming beat of the gong reverberated even up here, through all the closed doors and the panelling. ‘Luncheon is served.’ He opened his eyes and found that she had closed hers, was, perhaps, quietly dozing. ‘Shall I send the footmen with one of the sedan chairs?’
That brought her awake with a start. ‘Sedan chairs?’ Sophie swung her legs down with an elegant little twist that kept her skirts demurely tight around her calves. A very provocative little twist.
‘My various elderly ancestors kept them so they could be carried about the place. I can just recall one very ancient great-aunt trailing fans and shawls and lap dogs as she was carted about by two perspiring footmen.’
‘I will save that treat for my old age.’ She put her shoes back on and stood up. ‘We mustn’t be late for luncheon or Mama will fret.’ She looked round at the rows of portraits as they passed. ‘But we must come back and you can teach me who everyone is and point out the characteristic Thorne chin or nose or eyebrows. Every family has something like that. Papa’s had rather large ears which I am glad to say I avoided.’
He was teasing her about her ears when they reached the bottom of the stairs but stopped as two footmen strode past followed, at a more stately pace, by Renshaw.
‘Carriages, Your Grace. Three, I believe. I have sent down to the kitchen to delay luncheon by half an hour and alerted the housekeeping staff.’
‘They are early and my aunt and uncle aren’t here yet.’ This was sensitive. Having Sophie, an unmarried lady, beside him to greet the guests was not according to protocol. It might shock some of the older ladies and Sophie could do without their disapproval. ‘Would your mother mind standing in for a few hours?’
‘I am sure not. I will go and find her.’
‘Lady Elmham is in the Chinese Drawing Room, Miss Wilmott. There is no need for you to exert yourself, ma’am. Perkins, present His Grace’s complements to her ladyship and explain the situation. Harris, James, delay things enough to allow Lady Elmham to reach the front door.’ Renshaw was as alert to social niceties as the most stringent chaperone.
‘There, you can fade comfortably into the background.’
Sophie sent him a grateful look and effaced herself to the back of the hall while the staff went about presenting the surface appearance of absolute calm with the minimum of frantic paddling below the surface. He had wondered how he would find things when he returned after so many years absence, but Prescott had kept things running as though the Duke had only left the day before and was expected back at any time. There were even a large proportion of staff whom he recalled from the years he had lived here and he smiled inwardly at his own pleasure at how warmly they greeted his return.
‘You need me, Calderbrook?’ It was Lady Elmham, almost as lovely as her daughter and so poised that no-one would have guessed that she had been summoned to act the hostess without warning.
‘Thank you. I wanted to have a married lady here in case any of the arrivals are the single girls without their mothers. Of course, this may well be my aunt and uncle, in which case I need not trouble you at all.’