"Most definitely here and now." Julian did not appear to notice her startled expression. He was busy scrabbling about in one of the desk drawers. "Ah, here we go." He withdrew a handful of small letters and cards and handed them to her.
"What are these?"
"Invitations. You know, receptions, parties, routs, balls. That sort of thing. They require some sort of response. I detest sorting through invitations and I have occupied my secretary with more important matters. Pick out a few events that appear interesting to you and send regrets to the others."
Sophy looked up from the sheaf of cards in her hand, feeling bewildered. "This is to be my first wifely duty, my lord?"
"Correct."
She waited a moment, wondering if it was relief or disappointment she felt. It must have been relief. "I will be happy to take care of these, Julian, but you of all people should know I have very little experience with Society."
"That, Sophy, is one of your more redeeming qualities."
"Thank you, my lord. I was sure I must possess a few somewhere."
He gave her a suspicious look but forbore to comment on that remark. "As it happens, I have a solution to the dilemma your inexperience presents. I am going to provide you with a professional guide to see you through the wilderness of the social world here."
"A guide?"
"My aunt, Lady Frances Sinclair. Feel free to call her
Fanny. Everyone else does, including the Prince. I think you'll find her interesting. Fancies herself something of a bluestocking, I believe. She and her companion are fond of conducting a small salon of intellectually minded ladies on Wednesday afternoons. She'll probably invite you to join her little club."
Sophy heard the amused condescension in his voice and smiled serenely. "Is her little club anything like a gentlemen's club in which one may drink and bet and entertain oneself until all hours?"
Julian eyed her grimly. "Definitely not."
"How disappointing. But be that as it may, I am sure I shall like your aunt."
"You'll have a chance to find out shortly." Julian glanced at the library clock. "She should be here any minute."
Sophy was stunned. "She's going to be calling this morning?"
"I'm afraid so. She sent word around an hour ago that she was to be expected. She'll undoubtedly be accompanied by her companion, Harriett Rattenbury. The two are inseparable." Julian's mouth crooked faintly. "My aunt is most anxious to meet you."
"But how did she know I was in town?"
"That's one of the things you must learn about Society, Sophy. Gossip travels on the air itself here in the city. You will do well to keep that in mind because the last thing I want to hear is gossip about my wife. Is that very clear?"
"Yes, Julian."
SIX
"I do apologize for being late but I know you will all forgive me when I tell you I have got the second installment. Here it is, fresh from the presses. I assure you I had to risk life and limb to obtain it. I haven't seen that sort of mob in the streets since the riot after the last fireworks display at Covent Garden."
Sophy and the other ten guests seated in the gold-and-white Egyptian-style drawing room turned to gaze at the young, red-haired woman who had just burst through the door. She was clutching a slender, unbound volume in her hands and her eyes were alight with excitement.
"Pray, seat yourself, Anne. You must know we are all about to expire with curiosity." Lady Frances Sinclair, perched gracefully on a gold-and-white striped settee that was adorned with small, carved sphinxes, waved her late guest to a nearby chair. "But first allow me to present my nephew's wife, Lady Ravenwood. She arrived in town a week ago and has expressed an interest in joining our little Wednesday afternoon salon. Sophy, this is Miss Anne
Silverthorne. You two will undoubtedly run into each other again this evening at the Yelverton Ball."
Sophy smiled warmly as the introductions were completed. She was thoroughly enjoying herself and had been since Fanny Sinclair and her friend Harriett Rattenbury had swept into her life the previous week.
Julian had been right about his aunt and her companion. They were obviously the greatest of friends, although to look at them, one was struck first by the differences, rather than the similarities between the two women.
Fanny Sinclair was tall, patrician featured, and had been endowed with the black hair and brilliant emerald eyes that appeared to be a trademark of the Sinclair clan. She was in her early fifties, a vivacious, charming creature who was clearly at ease amid the wealth and trappings of the ton.
She was also delightfully optimistic, keenly interested in everything that went on around her and remarkably free thinking. Full of witty schemes and plans, she fairly bubbled with enthusiasm for any new idea that crossed her path. The exotic Egyptian style of her townhouse suited her well. Even the odd wallpaper, which had a border of tiny mummies and sphinxes, looked appropriate as a backdrop for Lady Fanny.
As much as Sophy enjoyed the bizarre Egyptian motifs in Lady Fanny's home, she was somewhat relieved to discover that when it came to clothing fashions, Julian's aunt had an instinctive and unfailing sense of style. She had employed it often on Sophy's behalf during the past week. Sophy's wardrobe was now crammed with the latest and most flattering designs and more gowns were on order. When Sophy had been so bold as to question the excessive expenditures, Fanny had laughed gaily and waved the entire issue aside.
"Julian can afford to keep his wife in style and he shall do so if I have anything to say about it. Do not worry about the bills, my dear. Just pay them out of your allowance and request more money from Julian when you need it."
Sophy had been horrified. "I could not possibly ask him to increase my allowance. He is already being extremely generous with me."
"Nonsense. I will tell you a secret about my nephew. He is not by nature closefisted or stingy but unfortunately he has little interest in spending money on anything except land improvement, sheep, and horses. You will have to remind him from time to time that there are certain necessities a woman needs."
Just as she would have to remind him occasionally that he had a wife, Sophy had told herself. She had not seen a great deal of her husband lately.
Harry, as Fanny's companion was called, was quite opposite in looks and manners, although she appeared to be about the same age. She was short, round, and possessed of an unflappable calm that nothing seemed to shake. Her serenity was the perfect foil for Fanny's enthusiasms. She favored imposing turbans, a monocle on a black ribbon, and the color purple, which she felt complimented her eyes. Thus far Sophy had never seen Harriett Rattenbury dressed in any other shade. The eccentricity suited her in some indefinable fashion.
Sophy had liked both women on sight and it was a fortunate circumstance because Julian had more or less abandoned her to their company. Sophy had seen very little of her husband for the past week and nothing at all of him in her bedchamber. She was not quite certain what to make of that situation but she had been too busy, thanks to Fanny and Harry, to brood over the matter.
"Now then, Fanny said as Anne began to cut open the pages of the small book, "you must not keep us in suspense any longer than is absolutely necessary, Anne. Start reading at once."
Sophy looked at her hostesses. "Are these Memoirs actually written by a woman of the demimonde?"
"Not just any woman of that world but the woman of that world," Fanny assured her with satisfaction. "It is no secret that Charlotte Featherstone has been the queen of London's courtesans for the past ten years. Men of the highest rank have fought duels for the honor of being her protector. She is retiring at the peak of her career and has decided to set Society on its ear with her Memoirs."