First her hair, then that Sir William being so unpleasant to Amélie, then overhearing that horrid man and Zeus nearly killing Papa and the mysterious magic she’d felt and the beautiful Lord Woodbridge being scared off by Lady Parthenope and … and everything . Her hand blurred through a film of tears.
“ Chut! I am not scolding, petite .” Amélie squeezed her arm as they gained the lotus-columned hall. Lady Whiston herself came fluttering toward them with their wraps and bid them good night. Amélie thanked her and took Sophie’s arm once more. “This evening has been even more exciting than we expected, no?”
“Not exciting—horrible!” Sophie muttered.
“Are you all right, Lady Sophie?” someone asked.
Sophie looked up—and straight at Lord Woodbridge, who was standing at the base of one of the columns. He was regarding her steadily, brows slightly drawn.
“I—it has been a t-tiring evening, sir,” she stuttered.
He bowed and stepped back, but Sophie was sure she could feel his eyes on her as they proceeded to the door being held open by a tall footman.
Lord Whiston accompanied them out to their carriage and handed her and Aunt Molly and Amélie into it. After Papa climbed in and gave the coachman the signal to start, Sophie looked out her window toward the house. She thought she saw a dark-haired figure in a blue coat standing with Lord Whiston under the torches by the door, watching their carriage clatter down Mount Street.
“Well,” Amélie commented quietly, “perhaps not entièrement horrible.”
“Indeed not,” said Aunt Molly, sounding dreamy and faraway.
Chapter
4
Breakfast was barely over the following morning when the front door knocker rat-a-tatted loudly. A few moments later Aunt Isabel swept into the breakfast room, grim-faced above her enormous ermine muff. She fixed Papa with a steely look.
“Gilbert, we must talk,” she announced, then turned to Aunt Molly. “And you too,” she added. “ If you feel that you can face us.”
Aunt Molly blinked. “What did I do?”
“You have to ask?” Aunt Isabel demanded.
Amélie rose at once. “Good day, Lady Dow. You must talk, and me, I must write some letters, which I should have done many days ago.” She glided calmly from the room, giving Sophie a meaningful glance.
Sophie rose too, ready to follow but wishing she could slide under the table instead and find out just what Aunt Isabel was so indignant about. It must have something to do with Aunt Molly’s comte last night, but why had he so upset her? If Mama were alive, she would have stood up for Aunt Molly—she had always been protective of her, especially when Aunt Isabel was around. If only Sophie could … but first she had to know what Aunt Isabel’s visit was about.
“I think the library would be more appropriate, if you do not mind, Isabel.” Papa climbed reluctantly to his feet.
“Indeed,” she snapped. “Come along, Molly.”
Aunt Molly’s vague blue eyes were troubled as she followed her sister, but her mouth had set itself in a line fully as stubborn as Aunt Isabel’s own. Good for her. Now all Sophie had to do was wander upstairs as if she hadn’t noticed the drama playing itself out in front of her, then set up a quick listening spell on the library—
Except that while Mama would approve of her wanting to help Aunt Molly, she would emphatically not approve of eavesdropping … and especially not of using magic to do so. And besides, by the time she’d concentrated hard enough to cast any spell, it would be time to dress for dinner. Which only left her one daunting option.
“Papa!” she called, as he was about to leave the room.
He paused. “Sophie?”
“Please—” She paused too, then said in a rush, “Please tell me what has upset Aunt Isabel so. Is it anything to do with Aunt Molly and the French comte we met last night?”
He frowned. “I am not sure that’s anything a young girl needs to know about—”
“But
“ Chut! I am not scolding, petite .” Amélie squeezed her arm as they gained the lotus-columned hall. Lady Whiston herself came fluttering toward them with their wraps and bid them good night. Amélie thanked her and took Sophie’s arm once more. “This evening has been even more exciting than we expected, no?”
“Not exciting—horrible!” Sophie muttered.
“Are you all right, Lady Sophie?” someone asked.
Sophie looked up—and straight at Lord Woodbridge, who was standing at the base of one of the columns. He was regarding her steadily, brows slightly drawn.
“I—it has been a t-tiring evening, sir,” she stuttered.
He bowed and stepped back, but Sophie was sure she could feel his eyes on her as they proceeded to the door being held open by a tall footman.
Lord Whiston accompanied them out to their carriage and handed her and Aunt Molly and Amélie into it. After Papa climbed in and gave the coachman the signal to start, Sophie looked out her window toward the house. She thought she saw a dark-haired figure in a blue coat standing with Lord Whiston under the torches by the door, watching their carriage clatter down Mount Street.
“Well,” Amélie commented quietly, “perhaps not entièrement horrible.”
“Indeed not,” said Aunt Molly, sounding dreamy and faraway.
Chapter
4
Breakfast was barely over the following morning when the front door knocker rat-a-tatted loudly. A few moments later Aunt Isabel swept into the breakfast room, grim-faced above her enormous ermine muff. She fixed Papa with a steely look.
“Gilbert, we must talk,” she announced, then turned to Aunt Molly. “And you too,” she added. “ If you feel that you can face us.”
Aunt Molly blinked. “What did I do?”
“You have to ask?” Aunt Isabel demanded.
Amélie rose at once. “Good day, Lady Dow. You must talk, and me, I must write some letters, which I should have done many days ago.” She glided calmly from the room, giving Sophie a meaningful glance.
Sophie rose too, ready to follow but wishing she could slide under the table instead and find out just what Aunt Isabel was so indignant about. It must have something to do with Aunt Molly’s comte last night, but why had he so upset her? If Mama were alive, she would have stood up for Aunt Molly—she had always been protective of her, especially when Aunt Isabel was around. If only Sophie could … but first she had to know what Aunt Isabel’s visit was about.
“I think the library would be more appropriate, if you do not mind, Isabel.” Papa climbed reluctantly to his feet.
“Indeed,” she snapped. “Come along, Molly.”
Aunt Molly’s vague blue eyes were troubled as she followed her sister, but her mouth had set itself in a line fully as stubborn as Aunt Isabel’s own. Good for her. Now all Sophie had to do was wander upstairs as if she hadn’t noticed the drama playing itself out in front of her, then set up a quick listening spell on the library—
Except that while Mama would approve of her wanting to help Aunt Molly, she would emphatically not approve of eavesdropping … and especially not of using magic to do so. And besides, by the time she’d concentrated hard enough to cast any spell, it would be time to dress for dinner. Which only left her one daunting option.
“Papa!” she called, as he was about to leave the room.
He paused. “Sophie?”
“Please—” She paused too, then said in a rush, “Please tell me what has upset Aunt Isabel so. Is it anything to do with Aunt Molly and the French comte we met last night?”
He frowned. “I am not sure that’s anything a young girl needs to know about—”
“But
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