THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

                             CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sophie threw her cloak onto the leather chesterfield in the drawing room at Frederick Granville’s house, and then sat down.

    ‘Have Snipe bring me some coffee, Freddie.’

    ‘The man is abed. I will not disturb him,’ he said sullenly.

    ‘But I need it.’ Her expression showed petulance which irritated him.

    ‘It is almost four o’clock in the morning, Sophie. Why you needed me to escort you from Lady Chalfont’s I can’t understand. And why come here? Why not go to your own rooms?’

    ‘I feared I was to be followed,’ she said.

    ‘By whom?’

    ‘Lord Langdon.’ She compressed her lips. ‘He is becoming tiresome, Freddie. He asked me to marry him again tonight for the fourth time. He simply will not take no for an answer.’

    ‘You could do worse,’ Granville said off-hand. He was tired. His scar was throbbing and he wished his sister would go.

    ‘You jest!’ Sophie exclaimed disparagingly.

    ‘Lord Langdon is a baron, of the peerage,’ Granville pointed out. ‘Doors open for him.’

    ‘Huh!’ Sophie snorted. ‘An impoverished baron. What good is that to me?’ She lifted her chin. ‘At any rate, I refused him yet again. I’m afraid I was rather blunt about it this time.’

    Granville looked at her. ‘You angered him?’

    Sophie shrugged one lovely shoulder. ‘He was furious and I did not like the look in his eyes. That is why I wanted your protection.’

    ‘I am afraid you have erred badly, Sophie,’ Granville said gravely. ‘Langdon is not a man to cross. He is the kind that carries a grudge. If he followed you here from the Chalfonts’ he may now believe that we are lovers.’

    Sophie gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Let him think it!’

    ‘It is not my reputation that I fear for,’ he said. ‘Major Warburton may come to hear of it.’

    ‘I have Ambrose in the palm of my hand,’ Sophie said confidently. ‘He intends holding a supper party at his town house tomorrow night. The crème-de-la-crème will be there. I believe he will announce our betrothal to the gathering.’

    Granville was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I wish to attend also,’ he said.

    Sophie looked startled. ‘But Ambrose does not know you. You have never been introduced and are not part of his circle.’

    ‘Nevertheless,’ Granville said firmly. ‘I wish you to arrange it. I will expect my invitation to arrive by mid-afternoon.’

    She rose to her feet. ‘Freddie, I can’t!’

    ‘You will, Sophie.’

    They stared at each other for a moment. Granville’s expression was set and resolute. Eleanor Wellesley was of that circle, if only as a chaperone, and he was determined to have easy access to her.

    Sophie’s shoulders drooped and she averted her gaze.

    ‘Some day you will go too far, Freddie,’ she said. ‘I am in your power now because of Percival. It will not always be so.’

    ‘You should take your leave now, Sophie,’ he said. ‘I will hail a hansom for you.’

Lady Susan and Eleanor were in the morning room before luncheon the following day. There had been a virtual avalanche of invitations. Lady Susan had engaged Eleanor’s help in sorting them and writing the acceptances.

    ‘I do so hope my girls will be safe in the company of Lady Pike and her daughters,’ Lady Susan said. ‘This will be the first time they have been out abroad without their chaperone.’

    ‘Lady Pike is a vigilant watch-dog,’ Eleanor said, and then blushed at the expression.

    Lady Susan laughed. ‘You are right. She is a bull dog when it comes to her girls.’

    They were interrupted when the door opened and Prout came in. He looked agitated and uncertain.

    ‘Begging your ladyship’s pardon,’ he began. ‘Your ladyship has a visitor.’

    ‘A morning visitor! What bad manners!’ her ladyship exclaimed crossly. ‘Who is it?’

    Prout wetted his lips. ‘Sir Hugo Warburton, your ladyship.’

    ‘What!’ Lady Susan stood up quickly, nudging the card table they were using to see to the invitations. The cards and letters scattered the rug.

    ‘Susan!’ said a booming voice and a figure entered and seemed to push Prout out of its way. ‘Susan, dear sister. How well you look and plumb as a partridge.’

    ‘Hugo!’ Lady Susan seemed to totter and Eleanor quickly came to her side and took her arm.

    ‘The very same!’ he boomed. ‘I am come to London to seek my fortune, well, at least to seek a wife.’

    The man before them was ruggedly handsome, with sun-darkened features so like Ambrose. Hugo Warburton was not as tall of his younger brother, but he had the same impressive width of shoulder and chest; the same imposing figure and form. Eleanor liked him on sight.

    Whereas she had been led to believe that Sir Hugo Warburton would appear as an uncouth countrified figure, here he was sporting the latest fashion in gentlemen’s accoutrements. And striking he was with it.

    ‘Well!’ Sir Hugo boomed again. ‘Where are my nieces? Where is the welcome I expected?’

    Eleanor eased her ladyship into the chair she had just vacated.

    ‘You should have warned...I mean, you should have told us of your expected arrival, Hugo,’ his sister said faintly. ‘My girls are out and so is Lord Birkett.’

    He put his hat and cane on a nearby table.

    ‘I thought Jeffrey would have told you,’ he said genially. ‘I am staying at White’s until I can find a house to rent for the season.’

    ‘You really mean to take in the Season, then?’ Lady Susan said. She was gaining control again and her voice was stronger. ‘But Hugo, a man of your years! It is unseemly.’

    ‘Balderdash! What have years to do with it?’ He glanced at Eleanor. ‘Susan, you are remiss. You have not introduced me to this lovely lady.’

    Eleanor flushed as she met his frankly admiring green gaze, so like that of Ambrose.

    ‘This is Miss Eleanor Wellesley, Hugo. She is chaperone to the girls and very helpful to me.’

    Sir Hugo held out his hand and taking Eleanor’s raised it to his lips.

    ‘Your servant, Miss Wellesley,’ he said with a smile. ‘But why is a lady of Miss Wellesley’s quality acting as chaperone?’

    Lady Susan sighed and rose to her feet. ‘It is a long sad story, Hugo,’ she said. ‘Which we need not go into now.’

    Resignedly, she went over to the fireplace and pulled the bell rope to call Prout to her.

    ‘I take it you will be staying to luncheon, Hugo?’

    ‘You’re too kind, sister mine,’ he said with a wide grin. ‘It will be an opportunity for Miss Wellesley and me to get to know each other much better. You must tell me your life story, Miss Wellesley,' he said, his eyes twinkling. 'And I will tell you mine.’