Ned watched him leave, frowning. He was well aware that Sir William expected him to help the estate in some way. But what form that help would take had never been discussed. Ned had assumed it would consist of settling Sir William’s debts or the equivalent. A small price to pay for the privilege of marrying the man’s daughter.
Not that Sophie was ready to marry him. Hell, she wasn’t even ready to let him kiss her.
But she’d smiled at him.
And her voice had quavered when she spoke.
It was progress, Ned decided as he finished his coffee. And the day wasn’t half over yet.
“Going riding with Sir William?” Walter murmured. “Quite an honor.”
“Jealous?”
“Hardly.”
Ned gave his friend a searching look. He was more rumpled than usual, his eyes lacking their normal twinkle of good cheer. “Miss Appersett told me what happened this morning.”
“Of course she did.”
“You’re not…upset about it, are you?”
Walter gave a dismissive snort. “God, no.” He speared a piece of sausage with his fork. “What difference does it make to me?”
Ned’s gaze remained on him until Mrs. Lanyon once again commanded his attention. When she paused to draw breath, he rose and made his excuses. He didn’t know where the devil Sophie had got to, nor where her shrewish little sister was, but he didn’t have a second to linger. Not if he was to be on time for his meeting with their father.
Sophie sank down on the cushioned window seat beside her sister. The chintz curtains had been pulled back to reveal a view of the snow-covered north lawn. It wasn’t a heavy snowfall as yet. Certainly not deep enough for them to bring out the sleds or hitch up the sleighs. But Sophie had hopes for tomorrow. The temperature would surely drop by several more degrees, ensuring a deep enough blanket of snow for all their Christmas activities.
Until then, she must contrive other ways to keep the guests busy. There would be music and games, naturally. And Mrs. Phillips had already started the baking. By this time tomorrow, the house would smell of fresh-cut pine, hot gingerbread, baked apples, and peppermint. Sophie could hardly wait.
If only Emily would allow herself to get into the holiday spirit. The poor dear. Sophie had never seen her so morose. Not even when she was pouting over being denied a favorite treat.
“I didn’t know he was standing there,” she said once again. “If I had known…”
“Yes, it’s very unfortunate,” Sophie acknowledged. “But don’t you see? It doesn’t matter whether he was there or not. You shouldn’t say such unkind things about people.”
“It’s nothing worse than what Papa says.”
“Papa is from a different generation. He’s old and set in his ways. But you and I…” Sophie tipped her sister’s chin up with her fingers, forcing her to meet her eyes. “We’re part of the modern age, my dear. Everything is changing so very rapidly. We must change along with it or be left behind in the dust. Like the dinosaurs we saw at the Great Exhibition. Do you remember?”
Emily’s eyes puddled with tears. She sniffed loudly. “I don’t want to be a dinosaur.”
“Then take this as a lesson. We mustn’t be so judgmental. And we must never say things behind a person’s back that we wouldn’t say to their face.” Sophie let go of her sister’s chin and reached into the pocket of her morning dress to retrieve a handkerchief. “Here. Blow your nose. There’s no point crying. You’ll only upset Mama.”
“I’m not crying.” Emily blotted her eyes. “And I wouldn’t upset Mama for the world.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Are you ready to get dressed now? Or do you need me to stay a little longer?”
Emily was still in her wrapper, her sable hair a mass of tangles down her back. She crumpled the soggy handkerchief in her hand. “What about Mr. Murray? I’ll have to see him again. And I know he hates me.”
“I doubt that very much,” Sophie said. “And even if he does harbor some ill will, does it truly matter so much what he thinks?”
“No. But I wish him to like me all the same.”
“He’s practically a stranger, Emmy.”
“Not entirely.”
“No?” Sophie’s brows lifted in surprise.
“We first met the day I was allowed to accompany you to Cremorne Gardens to see the high-wire act.”
“I know that much.” Sophie had gone with Mr. Sharpe and a small party of friends, Mr. Murray among them. Emily had not initially been invited but, at the last moment, she’d insisted on coming. Sophie hadn’t minded. The outing had seemed a harmless enough treat to share with her sister.