Free A Regency Match by Elizabeth Mansfield

her grandmother barked. “Are you going to dawdle there all day? Come down here and help us find the large hat-box. I packed all my powders and medications in it, and I will not stir a step unless I have them with me.”
    Sophy started down the stone steps, but Dillingham caught her arm. “Sophy, you must promise me—!”
    â€œI’m coming, Grandmama,” she called. “Really, Dilly, you are becoming the greatest nuisance! What is it?”
    â€œOnly promise me that you won’t … won’t …”
    â€œ There it is m’lady,” Leale squealed in relief. “Right there beside Miss Sophy’s trunk, see?”
    â€œGood,” Lady Alicia grunted and allowed herself to be assisted into the carriage. “Sophia,” she called threateningly over her shoulder, “come down immediately , or we shall depart without you!”
    â€œWon’t what, Dilly?” Sophy asked him curiously, ignoring the hysteria below.
    â€œThat … that you won’t go and do anything hasty … like getting yourself buckled,” he urged desperately.
    Sophy stared. “ What ? What are you talking about?”
    â€œBuckled. You know … leg-shackled. Wedded. Or even … betrothed. Promise !”
    She gave a light laugh and shook her head. “Wedded? Betrothed? Don’t be a fool, Dilly! I don’t know why the matter should concern you, but you needn’t worry. I haven’t the least inclination in that direction.” Her eyes took on a distant, almost-militant glitter. “My mind shall be occupied with other matters entirely.”
    â€œOther matters?” Dillingham asked, confused.
    â€œ Sophia !” came a stentorian cry from the carriage.
    â€œPlease, Miss Sophy, hurry,” Miss Leale pleaded warningly. The abigail stood waiting at the carriage door impatiently, the fingers of one hand clenching and unclenching nervously while her other hand held her trying bonnet in place on her head.
    â€œWhat other matters?” Dillingham repeated.
    â€œNever mind,” Sophy flung back as she ran down the steps. “Suffice it to say that finding myself a husband is the very last thing on my mind!”
    With the roses on her hat bobbing, she jumped into the carriage, Miss Leale quickly following. The footman shut the door, the coachman flicked his whip, and the carriage lumbered off down the street, leaving behind a breathless and sad-eyed Dillingham. The boy had had her promise, but he felt not in the least reassured. For the first time in his life, he realized that the protestations of females, being only words after all, do not carry enough conviction to ease the pangs of jealousy that eat into a lover’s heart.

Chapter Six
    T HE DAY THE guests were to arrive at Wynwood dawned fine. The end-of-May sunshine was gently warm, the sky a clear amethyst blue, the air crisp and the breeze playful. It seemed a ploy of nature to lure Marcus into a false sense of optimism and security concerning the success of the festivities. But it was not long before he reverted to his customary pessimism, for as the day wore on he was beset with several surprises, all of them bad.
    The first arrivals were Iris and her mother. Iris looked as lovely as a spring lily and greeted Lady Wynwood with just the right combination of warmth and diffidence. But Lady Lorna Bethune was overly effusive, rhapsodizing over every shrub and stone with such ardent indiscriminacy that she quite set his teeth on edge. To make matters worse, she was accompanied by her sister, a Mrs. Maynard, and her sister’s three muffin-faced progeny, none of whom had been expected. And since Mrs. Maynard did nothing but echo her sister’s sentiments, Marcus could not convince himself that her presence would be an asset.
    Sir Walter Edgerton and his wife Isabel were the next arrivals. For some reason which Marcus couldn’t explain (except that the fuss over this event had