Emily looked doubtful. “That would mean missing the Christmas ball.”
“A small price to pay to avoid permanent lameness.”
“But I must dance, Mrs. Sharpe. It will be our first ball at Appersett House since the gaslight was installed. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Sophie was seated at a low inlaid table with Miss Tunstall, the Viscountess Barton, and Mrs. Lanyon. She was mending the tree skirt while the other ladies worked together on the kissing bough. “Perhaps just one dance.”
Emily snorted. “One? That’s little better than nothing.”
“How many waltzes will be played at the Christmas ball, Miss Appersett?” Miss Tunstall asked.
“Three or four, I should think,” Sophie said.
Mrs. Sharpe’s features tightened with disapproval.
Sophie didn’t know why. It had been ages since the waltz was considered scandalous. Then again, Ned’s mother was a woman of advanced years. “Do you object to waltzing, ma’am?”
“I object to public displays, in any form,” Mrs. Sharpe said with a forceful click of her needles. “Waltzing is but another excuse for excessive intimacy between young men and women. It can lead to nothing but trouble.”
Emily struggled up to a sitting position on the sofa. “But everyone waltzes at balls.”
“It’s true,” Sophie said. “It’s unexceptionable, even at the most formal events. Why, the Queen herself has been known to enjoy a waltz on occasion.”
“With Prince Albert,” Mrs. Lanyon said. “God rest his soul.”
Mrs. Sharpe was unmoved. “It may be very well for your lords and ladies, Miss Appersett, but it doesn’t change my opinion of it.”
No sooner had she finished her sentence than several of the gentlemen entered the drawing room. Among them were Ned and Mr. Murray. They’d been with Sophie’s father again, traipsing about the estate for the second day in a row.
Ned leaned down to press a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “Your opinion on what?”
“Waltzing,” Emily said. “Your mother doesn’t approve.”
“I won’t apologize for my views, Miss Emily,” Mrs. Sharpe said. “Humble as they may seem to you.”
Mr. Murray winked at Emily. Emily responded by turning a becoming shade of rose.
Sophie frowned. Whatever attraction her sister felt for Walter Murray had only grown since she twisted her ankle. And her feelings didn’t appear to be one-sided, either. Each afternoon Mr. Murray whiled away the hours, sitting beside Emily and reading aloud to her from some frivolous text or another.
Sophie didn’t know whether she was disgusted or a little envious. Ned had paid her no such attentions since that day in the woods. She supposed it wasn’t in his nature to be easy with his affections. At least, not when it came to her. And yet…
And yet he’d said that he admired her. That he wanted her for his own. That she was worth the cost of any improvements to Appersett House.
She glanced up at him. He was still standing near Emily and his mother. He caught her gaze and then—much to her astonishment—gave a subtle jerk of his head in the direction of the doorway. Her brows lifted in question.
“I must go upstairs and change,” he told his mother. “I’ll be back down for tea.”
“You may fetch your father from the billiard room on your way back,” Mrs. Sharpe said. “He and the vicar have been in there since breakfast. They’ll want some refreshment.”
Sophie waited a few moments before laying down her sewing and rising. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“Are you going down to the kitchens, Sophie?” Emily interrupted. “Will you tell Cook that I want the iced gingerbread with tea and not that dry loaf she gave us yesterday?”
“Er…yes. I’ll tell her.” Sophie smoothed a hand over her skirts as she walked to the door. She felt suddenly as if everyone in the room knew what she was about.
She stepped out into the empty hall. There was no sign of Ned anywhere.
Perhaps she’d misinterpreted his gesture? Perhaps he truly had gone up to his room to change?
She lingered a moment, but there seemed no point in waiting. It would only make her conspicuous. She might as well go to the kitchens and see about tea.
With that in mind, she descended the stairs to the first floor. She was nearly at the bottom before she heard him on the steps behind her.
“Sophie.” He swiftly caught up with her.
She stopped on the second step, feeling a little foolish when he moved to stand in front of her at the bottom of the stairs. He was still taller than her, but now she need only tilt her head back a fraction for them to see eye to eye.