Courting Miss Vallois

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Then there was the always-disturbing behaviour of one Mr Robert Silverton …

‘I think you’ll sleep well tonight,’ Lavinia said as they climbed the stairs to their rooms. ‘I’ll have Jeanette bring you a cup of chocolate in the morning.’

‘Thank you, Lavinia.’ Sophie was so weary she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. ‘If left alone, I fear I may sleep until noon.’

‘In that case, I shall have a breakfast tray sent up as well.’

Thankfully, Jeanette was waiting to help her undress and after the magnificent gown was removed and carefully hung in the closet, Sophie sat down at the dressing table and gazed longingly at the bed. ‘I don’t suppose I could go to bed without having my hair brushed?’

Jeanette pursed her lips. ‘Her ladyship wouldn’t like it, miss. She’s very particular about that sort of thing.’

‘Yes, I’m sure she is.’ Sophie sighed as she turned to face the glass. As the maid took the pins from her hair and it came tumbling down around her shoulders, Sophie closed her eyes and let her mind drift back over the events of the evening. Ironically, she found herself thinking about Robert Silverton. Why, she couldn’t imagine. The man had made no secret of the fact he didn’t like her, yet she was finding it exceedingly difficult to put him from her thoughts. She had followed his progress around the room, watching as he had stopped to speak with people he knew. The young ladies had been careful to keep their distance, but several of the older ones had smiled in a way that led Sophie to believe he was still very attractive to women open to une dalliance.

‘Sophie, are you awake?’ Lavinia called from the other side of the door.

‘Yes.’ Sophie opened her eyes, glad to have something to think about other than Robert Silverton. ‘Come in, Lavinia.’

Lavinia did, looking wonderfully exotic and far too wide awake in a dressing robe of deep crimson silk trimmed with layers of snowy white lace. Her long dark hair was caught in a loose knot at the nape of her neck and there was a definite twinkle in her eyes. ‘Thank you, Jeanette. That will be all.’

The maid put down the silver-handled brush, bobbed a curtsy and left. Lavinia waited for the door to close before settling herself on the edge of the bed and gazing at Sophie’s reflection in the glass. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t wait until breakfast to hear what you thought of your first ball. And to tell you how proud Nicholas and I were of you this evening. I’m sure we will see your name in the society pages tomorrow.’

Sophie turned on the upholstered seat and her mouth lifted in a smile. ‘I hope they neglect to mention that I addressed the Countess of Doncaster’s eldest daughter as Lady Doncaster.’

Lavinia dismissed it with a wave. ‘You apologised so sweetly even Lady Doncaster couldn’t take offence. But we could spend some time with Debrett’s tomorrow, if you like.’

‘Or we could just avoid attending any more grand balls. But I did enjoy myself this evening, Lavinia, and I think Antoine did too.’

‘Good, because I noticed several young ladies watching him,’ Lavinia commented. ‘Miss Margaret Quilling couldn’t take her eyes from him.’

‘Which one was she?’

‘The tall girl in white. Quite pretty, with blond hair dressed with feathers and pearls.’

Sophie nodded, remembering the ensemble rather than the lady. It had been of white tulle over satin with a rather unusual band of satin crescents forming a wide border around the bottom. The sleeves had been short and edged with a smaller band of crescents. ‘Yes, I remember. She complimented me on my gown and asked if I’d had it made in Paris.’

‘Really? I must pass that on to Madame Delors. She will be delighted to know that her gowns are being praised by such illustrious members of society.’ Lavinia got up and wandered across to the window. ‘Does the room please you, Sophie? I thought you might prefer one facing the square.’

‘The room is perfect,’ Sophie said, glancing around the spacious chamber. A huge four-poster bed was draped in lavender velvet, with the bedspread and pillows being of a lighter hue. A wardrobe stood against the opposite wall and a writing table was nestled under a window framed by delicate white curtains. ‘My mother would have loved it. Lavender was always her favourite colour.’

‘It must have been hard for you to leave her.’

‘I didn’t get the chance.’ Sophie’s eyes misted as they always did when she thought of the gentle woman who had raised her as best she could, despite the frequent bouts of debilitating illness. ‘She died four years ago.’

‘Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’