“We met again the next week at Mrs. Ashburnham’s dinner party.”
“I’d forgotten that,” Sophie said. “You were seated beside him, weren’t you?”
Emily nodded. “He teased me and made me laugh. He was so absurd.”
“He’s a good-humored gentleman.”
“I thought so.” Emily’s eyes dropped to her handkerchief. “A week later, I encountered him at Hatchard’s. He retrieved a book for me off a shelf that was too high.”
Sophie refrained from commenting. She knew only too well how such inconsequential actions could come to loom large in the imagination of a romantic-minded young lady. Hadn’t she just spent a good half hour reliving her walk with Ned? Analyzing his every action and dissecting his every word?
“I thought I would see him again when you went to Fleet Street,” Emily confessed.
“Ah. So that’s why you wished to come.”
“Yes, but…when I saw how dark and dirty the street was—and how ugly his offices—I knew I’d made a mistake. He’s a tradesman. A stonemason’s son, Papa says.” Tears sprang once more into Emily’s eyes. “And now he despises me.”
“Perhaps you might apologize to him?” Sophie suggested.
“Why?” Emily snuffled into her handkerchief. “Everything I said was true. I can’t be sorry for it. I’m only sorry that he heard me. I didn’t intend to hurt his feelings.”
“Oh, Emmy.” Sophie sighed. “You have a great deal of growing up to do.”
Her sister made no reply. She was staring out the window. Sophie followed her gaze. There were two gentleman riding down the snowy path, one on a chestnut hunter and the other on a strapping gray. It was Papa and—
Good gracious!
“Is that Mr. Sharpe?” Emily asked.
“I fear it is.”
“Where’s Papa taking him?”
There was a sinking feeling in Sophie’s stomach. “To see the gas works, I suspect.”
Emily wrinkled her nose. “Dirty, smelly place. If Papa ever spends my dowry, I hope he’ll use it for something more pleasing. An orangery, or a tennis court, perhaps.”
Sophie rose, only half listening. “I’ll send Annie to help you dress,” she said as she turned to leave.
After exiting Emily’s bedroom, Sophie went to her own. She briefly considered changing into a riding habit, having her mare saddled, and setting off after Papa and Ned. But that would be overreacting, surely. Besides, Ned was more than capable of withstanding any pressure Papa put to bear. At least, Sophie hoped he was.
Sir William was a man who was fond of good horseflesh. He kept a string of hunters along with his riding horses. Big, leanly-muscled beasts with near-perfect conformation. The one he’d assigned to Ned was a well-built gray with a great deal of spirit. Ned supposed it was a challenge of sorts. A test to see whether or not he could control a mount that wasn’t lame in all four legs.
As a humbly born Londoner, he hadn’t been much of an equestrian in his youth. Riding horses were a luxury in the city, expensive to buy and to maintain. It wasn’t until he was an adult that he’d learned to ride properly.
He didn’t enjoy it overmuch. Not as much as Sir William, certainly. But he was more than equipped to handle the mood swings of the handsome gray, even when the bad-tempered blackguard set his teeth on the bit and refused to let it go.
“Progress,” Sir William said proudly as they rode away from Appersett House’s private gas works. The ground was white with fresh-fallen snow. “That’s what that is, Sharpe. A modern marvel of engineering.”
“It’s none too healthy for the workers.”
“Nonsense! I’ll have you know that my gas works is cleaner and better run than the gas works in the city. The men can breathe without inhaling poison.”
Ned wasn’t so sure. During his brief tour, he’d inhaled enough noxious fumes to bring on a headache.
Not that he was unappreciative of the innovation. A country house gas works was a rarity. Rarer still, the elegance and efficiency of the one he’d just encountered. It was made of stone, with bricked archways and chimneys. A skeleton crew of soot-covered workmen were employed within to shovel coal into sealed retorts, which were heated by a large furnace. The crude gas produced was then condensed and purified before being pumped to the main house via a series of underground pipes.
The process was time-consuming and the smell particularly foul. But it was an impressive business for all that. Truly a product of the modern age.