Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

“I’m so pleased you’re here, Sophia. I know it’s been an age since we last saw one another, but when my mother suggested we invite someone to keep me company, well… I thought of you,” Penelope said, kissing Sophia on both cheeks and taking her hands in hers.

The door had been opened by the butler, and Sophia and Ethan – who had subsequently discovered they were the first guests – had been asked to wait in the hallway whilst the Duke, his mother, and his sister, were informed of their arrival.

“Your Grace, it’s a great pleasure to be here, and so very kind of you to invite us,” Ethan said, holding out his hand to the Duke, who looked at him disdainfully.

Ethan had a habit of gushing. He was not entirely comfortable in social situations – with other men, at least – and would naturally play the subservient role to those he thought should be flattered.

“Well, it’ll be good for Penelope to have company. I rather hoped Caroline would join us, but she wrote to say she has your godmother staying with her at the moment, Sophia,” the Dowager Duchess said, and Sophia nodded.

“That’s right. She’s very sorry not to be here,” Sophia replied.

The Duke had offered only a curt welcome. He was just as Sophia remembered him – cold and aloof. He was older than her – five or six-and-twenty – tall and muscular, with light brown hair and blue eyes. He and Penelope shared little by way of looks, though she was very pretty, just as he was handsome.

“Well, it can’t be helped. Why don’t you show Sophia to her bedroom, Penelope? It’s easier than waiting for the servants,” the Dowager Duchess said, and Penelope nodded, motioning for Sophia to follow her.

Sophia thanked the Dowager Duchess, glancing at the Duke, who made no effort to acknowledge her, nor any offer to assist Ethan in finding his bedroom. She followed Penelope up the stairs to the landing, where portraits of the previous Dukes lined the walls. The house had a shabby feel about it – unpolished furniture, fraying rugs, paintings gathering dust. There was a sense of neglect about the place, and Sophia could only reason it was because of what her cousin had told her earlier on.

The Duke of Weston was in debt – a debt he had inherited from his father, who had died two years ago without a penny to his name. There had been whisperings about it in drawing rooms across the ton, and Sophia knew it had been a source of considerable embarrassment to Penelope. She had never said as much, but Sophia suspected the delay in Penelope’s debut was the result of there being no money to pay for her coming out…

“It really is very kind of you to invite me, Penelope. I feel guilty – we’ve hardly spoken in months. I don’t know where the time goes,” Sophia said, but Penelope only smiled and shook her head.

“Oh, don’t worry – we all get caught up in the everyday, don’t we?” she said, and Sophia nodded.

“But we’re here now, aren’t we? And I’m sure we’re going to have a wonderful time,” Sophia said.

She was trying to make the best of the situation, even though she knew it was not going to be the most enjoyable house party she had ever attended. They made their way down the corridor, past more shabby-looking furniture and dusty portraiture, coming to a door at the far end. Penelope opened it, revealing a comfortably furnished bedroom, where a fire was burning merrily in the hearth. This room, at least, did not have the same feel as the rest of the house, and Sophia smiled, glad to warm herself after the chill of the public rooms. It was the beginning of June, but the weather had been damp, and the county had been shrouded in mist and fog for the past few days.

“What a lovely room,” Sophia said, crossing to the window.

It looked out over the street, and now she saw a carriage drawing up, and a young man – around the same age as the Duke – climbing down.

“Oh, Peter’s here – the Marquess of Clayton. He and Jasper have been friends since before they could walk,” Penelope said, glancing over Sophia’s shoulder.

Sophia watched for a moment, interested in the thought of meeting someone for whom the Duke’s icy gaze might soften. Jasper himself now appeared, shaking the Marquess’s hand. He was smiling, and it surprised Sophia to see his face light up in an obvious look of affection.

“It looks like they get on very well with one another,” Sophia replied, and Penelope nodded.

“They do, yes. My brother has so many responsibilities. It does him good to have a friend like Peter. Well, I’ll leave you to settle in, Sophia. We’ll convene in the drawing room later on. Just come down when you’re ready. The two of us can play cards, perhaps,” she said, and nodding to Sophia, she left the room.

Sophia glanced again out the window, intrigued by the sight of Jasper and Peter still talking to one another. She wondered what he thought of her, and whether his stern complexion would ever break into a smile in her direction.

“I doubt it,”she muttered to herself, wondering what the coming days would bring, and whether there could be any enjoyment in what was to come.

“Thank goodness you’re here, Peter. I’ve been going quite mad without you,” Jasper said, leading Peter into the house.

He hated his mother’s house parties, and not only for how much they cost. The thought of gathering a group of dispirited members of the aristocracy together in the hope of getting along with one another by virtue of their shared ranks and class was not something he relished. Jasper valued friendship, and he did not need his mother to attempt to secure him more friends. He had insisted on inviting the Marquess, even as his mother had told him she wanted to expand his social circle.

“It’s all men, Jasper. You never give yourself the chance to be introduced to women,” she had said, but Jasper had been adamant about his intentions to avoid what his mother desired for him at all costs.

He did not want to marry, simply because it was expected of him. And he certainly did not want to marry whoever it was his mother had in mind for him. The house party would be an endurance, and he had already endured the arrival of the first guests – the Earl of Milton and his cousin. The Earl had been unbearable, gushing over him like a puppy desperate for a bone.

“Is it that bad already?” Peter asked.

“The Earl of Milton – need I say anymore?” Jasper replied, and the Marquess laughed.

“I see… but his cousin’s rather nice, isn’t she? Or so they say, at least,” he said.

Jasper shook his head. He had not paid much attention to the Earl’s cousin, who had been invited solely as a companion to Penelope. His sister had been miserable lately, and the house party was their mother’s idea to cheer her up, though Jasper did not think it would do much good. Penelope was miserable because she had yet to find a husband, and entering this, her third Season, she had convinced herself of its impossibility.

“I’m not sure. I didn’t really notice her. She’s here for Penelope, that’s all,” Jasper replied, and Peter groaned.

“Oh, please, Jasper. Don’t tell me you didn’t think she was pretty,” he exclaimed, and Jasper blushed.

“I really didn’t notice. Perhaps she is, yes,” he said, and Peter shook his head.

They made their way to the drawing room, finding Penelope and her mother there with some of the other guests – Lord and Lady Frighton, Sir Arthur Knight, and the two Batley sisters, all of whom were sipping tea and eating dainty cakes and pastries at Jasper’s expense. He loathed the thought of making small talk with his mother’s friends, all of whom he found dull and uninteresting.

“Ah, Peter, you’re here. Come and have some tea,” Jasper’s mother said, beckoning Peter from across the drawing room.

“Oh, Jasper, don’t you look handsome,” one of the Batley sisters – the maiden aunts, or great aunts, of Jasper’s mother – exclaimed.

“Aunt Helen,” Jasper said, sighing as she took her hand in his and raised it up to examine it.

“Ah, yes, the lines never lie,” she said.

Helen, and her sister, Nora, were inclined to fortune-telling. They dabbled in what they called “the mystical arts,” and if it was not palms they were reading, it was tea leaves they were examining. Jasper knew there was no point in arguing, and he allowed Helen to tell his fortune, glancing at Penelope, who was trying hard not to laugh.

“And what is it you see, Aunt Helen?” Jasper asked.

“Nora, look!” Helen exclaimed, and her sister came over, examining Jasper’s palm through pince-nez spectacles.

Her eyes grew wide with astonishment.

“Oh… but look, the line of fate, turned to the north,” Nora said, closing her eyes and letting out a trance-like hum.

“Yes… yes, precisely – good fortune awaits, and it points towards the future,” Helen said.

Jasper smiled. Had he not known better, he might have joked about there being little chance of his fortunes being less than they had been. He was still sorting out the mess left by his father, for the inheritance had been in title alone, and Jasper had, at one time, feared the family would be forced to sell their country estate, and perhaps even Weston House, too. But through a combination of sensible investments and shrewdness on the part of his financial affairs, Jasper had begun to claw back some of what had been lost, though it would take many years for the family’s finances to resemble what they had been like in the time of Jasper’s grandfather.

“Well… I’m very pleased,” he said, pulling his hand away.

Helen looked at him and smiled. “We know you don’t believe it. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to believe for it to be true,” she said.

Jasper had heard enough, and nodding, he went to join Peter by the window.

“They’re both utterly mad. It’s extraordinary,” he said, shaking his head and glancing over his shoulder to where the two women were now asking Sir Arthur to pick a card from a deck and reveal his own fortune to the rest of the room.

“Your fortune didn’t sound so bad, Jasper. But look who’s here now,” Peter said, nodding towards the door.

The Earl of Milton had just entered the room, accompanied by his cousin, Sophia. She had changed into a pretty peacock blue dress, and her brown hair was tied up in a bun. There was no denying she was pretty – slim, though curved in the right places, and with rosy cheeks and a dimpled nose.

“Sophia, come and have some tea,” Penelope said, hurrying to greet the new arrivals.

“Save me from the Earl of Milton,” Jasper whispered, but there could be no escape, and Ethan now made for the window with that same gushing smile on his face he had employed on arrival.

“Ah… I trust you’ve… settled in,” Jasper said, and the Earl nodded.

“Very comfortably so, yes, thank you. It’s a fine house,” he said.

“A fine house, yes,” Jasper replied.

He hated small talk. But occasions such as this necessitated it. There would be no depth of conversation, only the superficial, and Jasper did not have high hopes for the quality of the Earl’s conversation. He was not a man naturally inclined to aristocratic tendencies, having inherited his title by chance, and though Jasper had no intention of being outwardly rude, he did not intend to indulge the Earl’s sycophancy either.

“And such a kind invitation. We really were so flattered,” the Earl persisted.

Jasper nodded.

“Yes, well, it’s good for my sister to have company. The two of them seem to get on well – your cousin and Penelope. I rather think it must be very boring for young women to be saddled with the sort of guests my mother usually sees fit to invite,” Jasper said, glancing in the direction of the two Batley sisters.

The Earl of Milton nodded. “Indeed, Sir, indeed. And I’m sure you’ll find my cousin to be the most conducive company. Growing up, we hardly knew one another. But since I… unexpectedly inherited the title, we’ve grown close,” he said.

Jasper forced a smile and nodded. He wondered if the Earl – and the Earl’s aunt – were not taking this as an opportunity for matchmaking. Others had tried their hands – the introduction of a daughter at the opening of the Season, the “chance” encounter with an eligible young woman in the park or at the theater. Jasper knew the signs, and he had no doubt the Earl of Milton was just the sort of man to play things to his advantage.

“I’m sure you have,” Jasper said, glancing at Peter in the hope that his friend would create a diversion to extract them from this awkward conversation.

But it seemed Peter was enjoying himself, and he returned Jasper’s look with a smile.

“Tell us, My Lord, what business interests are you currently pursuing? Jasper – His Grace – is always looking for new opportunities,” Peter said, and Jasper glared at him.

“Well, I understand the sugar plantations are providing substantial profits at the moment,” the Earl replied, and Jasper shuddered.

There were many people who had told him to invest his fledgling returns in the sugar plantations. But the thought of doing so made him feel sick. He knew something of the appalling conditions those who worked in such places endured – the slaves brought from Africa – and the thought of profiting from it was unspeakable. He had seen a boatload of those poor souls offloaded at Bristol, their wide eyes filled with terror at the prospect of what they were being led to. Jasper had no intention of making such investments, even if it meant his own returns were less than they might be.

“Yes, well, such things don’t interest me,” Jasper replied.

He wanted to cut the conversation off and was hoping the Batley sisters might take it upon themselves to intervene with the promise of palm reading, but it seemed he was stuck, and for the next half an hour, he had to listen to the Earl extolling the advantages of his own investments, and offering Jasper the benefit of his wisdom…

“I find it makes a real difference to stay interested in one’s investments – to take the time to study the ups and downs,” the Earl was saying.

Jasper had stopped listening some time ago, but he was brought back to his senses by the sound of his mother’s voice, calling the room to order.

“We’re very grateful to you all for coming, and now we’re all assembled, though I think we’re still missing Henry – is that right, Jasper?” she asked, glancing over at Jasper, who nodded.

Henry Bell, the Viscount Loweshire, was a friend of the family, though not a friend Jasper had a great deal of time for. He tolerated him, and would be polite to him, but the prospect of his arrival was yet another reason why the house party would be an endurance, rather than a pleasure.

“Yes… tomorrow, first thing, I believe,” Jasper replied, and his mother smiled.

“Then we’ll all be here. For now, I suggest we retire, and reassemble for drinks at eight o’clock before dinner,” she said.

“If fortune allows it,” Helen said, and Jasper grimaced.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure talking to you, Your Grace. And I look forward to continuing our conversation over dinner,” the Earl of Milton said.

“Not if I can help it,” Jasper whispered through gritted teeth as his unwanted guest ambled off across the drawing room.

Peter laughed. “Oh, come off it, Jasper. You’re enjoying yourself really,” he said, but Jasper shook his head.

“Do I look like I’m enjoying myself?” he retorted, catching Sophia’s eye across the room.

He wondered how long she had been watching him, and whether she had noticed the obviousness of his animosity towards her cousin. She gave a slight smile, nodding towards him as he turned away with what he hoped was a stern and emotionless look. He did not want to garner attention and was happy to play the part of the detached and disinterested aristocrat. If his mother wanted to host a house party, so be it, but Jasper had no intention of doing anything more than was absolutely necessary.

“I’m going to have a lie down before dinner. Who knows, you might actually try to enjoy yourself,” Peter said, shaking his head.

The other guests now gradually left the drawing room, but Jasper waited, wanting to speak to his mother alone. She had endured the attentions of Helen and Nora, the two women insisting on reading her tea leaves and pronouncing good fortune on her in the coming year.

“Romance isn’t over for you, Emily,” Helen said, raising her eyebrows knowingly.

After they had gone, Jasper shook his head, catching his mother’s eye and smiling. “Why do you indulge them?” he asked.

“No one else would if I didn’t. Besides, they’re harmless,” the Dowager Duchess replied.

“I just hope the other guests realize that, too,” Jasper replied.

“What do you think of Penelope’s friend?” his mother asked, and Jasper groaned.

He did not think anything about her. She was as she was. He had no opinion on her, nor did he intend to form one. She had come and she would go. That was that.

“I’m glad she’s got some company for what I’m sure is going to be the dullest of occasions,” Jasper said.

His mother shook her head. “Oh, Jasper, please – why can’t you make some effort,” she said, and Jasper sighed.

“I’m here, aren’t I? Isn’t this enough effort?” he asked, for he really did not see what more he could do to make the effort his mother expected of him.

He detested such occasions, and if she had invited Sophie, or Sophia, or whatever her name was, with the intention of making a match, she was sorely mistaken in having done so.

“I just want you to make an effort, that’s all, Jasper. I’m not expecting a miracle. But a few pleasant words wouldn’t go amiss. Don’t forget your duty,” his mother said.

Jasper gave her a patronizing smile. “I’ll try my best, mother,” he replied, before turning on his heels and marching towards the drawing room door.

“You could do far worse,” his mother called out, but Jasper had heard enough.

He opened the door, and promptly slammed it behind him as he departed, retreating to his study, where he poured himself a large glass of brandy and sat down by the hearth.

Nonsense. She doesn’t have any idea about what I want – or what I need.

He glanced at the piles of correspondence on his desk, fearing the coming days would be more a dereliction of duty, rather than its fulfillment.