Free Fairchild by Jaima Fixsen Page A

his dogs in the house, but the dogs came inside nevertheless. It was not the puppy that displeased her. No, this dog was just the latest instance of a growing problem.   When she and Sophy conducted their errands of mercy or drove into Bury St. Edmonds to visit the shops, farmers’ sons increasingly found excuses to speak to Sophy. The shop boys were too attentive, following her with their eyes. Worse, Sophy was friendly in return, smiling as readily to Peter Larkin’s bashful greeting as she did to Jasper’s teasing.  
    Until now, Lady Fairchild had always been glad Sophy never tried to increase her privileges or insinuate herself higher. She had liked her for being content with her place. It had never troubled her before when Sophy failed to discourage the familiarities of the local people, but Lady Fairchild saw where it was leading now. Letting Sophy marry a farmer or a tradesman would be intolerable. She could not invite those men to her home, or visit Sophy in theirs. Day by day, she was realizing that she did not want Sophy to pass out of her life after reaching adulthood.  
    It was strange, Lady Fairchild thought, watching Sophy lift the lid of the basket and slip her hand inside to fondle the bundle of silky fur. She had never expected to like her.  
      Though not a beauty, Sophy was undeniably pretty. It surprised her that William’s features had turned out so well on a female, but they had indeed. Sophy’s face was arresting, her dark, mobile brows and pale skin topped by the bright tangle of her hair. Of course the local boys noticed. Sophy’s self-deprecating manners only encouraged their presumption. These farmers’ sons would never have dared to throw a second glance Henrietta’s way.  
    It was a problem, but it didn’t have to be. Finding an acceptable husband for Sophy would be difficult, but was by no means impossible. Examining the idea, Lady Fairchild’s pulse quickened. Sophy was illegitimate, but acknowledged, and with a good dowry. She had all the necessary accomplishments and an eye for color and design. If she brought Sophy out, Sophy would do very well. Leaning her head back into the velvet upholstery, Lady Fairchild let a dreamy half-smile creep across her face. There was nothing that gave spice to the London Season like arranging a marriage.  
    It would be truly magnanimous of her.  
    Eyes narrowed, she watched Sophy, who was intent on her puppy. With her hair cut, some simple pearls, and a delicate figured muslin, nothing could look more appealing. She would show best at outdoor events, Lady Fairchild decided—rides in the park, Venetian breakfasts—they would have to pay special attention to choosing habits and walking dresses. Of course she could not bring Sophy everywhere. There would be no court presentation, no vouchers for the assemblies at Almacks, but otherwise she would have Sophy’s company. Her one dissatisfaction with Henrietta’s marriage to Arundel was that they lived so far away. She might have better luck there with Sophy.  
    “You look vastly pretty today, Sophy, but I think it’s high time we got you some new gowns,” she said.  
    “Thank-you, ma’am. That is most kind.” A pink flush stole into her cheeks. “But I won’t need anything until you and Lord Fairchild return from London.”  
    Lady Fairchild didn’t contradict her. No need to explain just yet. She would speak to William first.  
    *****

    “Don’t let that overgrown mouse chew on your dress,” Dessie scolded, fastening Sophy up the back. “That flounce was three shillings a yard!” Letting out a cry of vexation, Dessie pounced on the puppy and stuffed her into the basket, cursing Peter Larkin under her breath.  
    “Sorry! She can’t help it,” Sophy said, crouching down to examine her hem. “It’s just a small tear.”
    Dessie sniffed.  
    “I can mend it myself, you know,” Sophy said. “No one will see it, but I can change if you think I should.”
    “This is your