Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,100
ladies. Ignoring them, Sophie continued to muse over the sudden shift among the Kingsley ranks, but at the sound of Lily’s name, Sophie’s attention drew back to the pair.
“…ridiculous! As if she would catch his eye,” said one.
“That is unfair,” replied the second voice. “Though I will admit that Lily and the rest of her family deserve to be humbled, she is not wholly unappealing to a man.”
A scoff. “Some men are not discerning, but anyone of taste would flee from that pudgy fright who is more likely to bore a beau to death than win his heart.”
A spark of anger flared in Sophie’s heart, and she leaned closer, attempting to peer through the foliage to see just who deserved to be eviscerated for those scathing remarks.
The second young lady gave a muted chuckle. “That is a tad harsh, Phyllis, but you do have a point. Even though I spoke with her about it, she still cannot keep hold of her tongue. She is forever speaking of the most uninteresting things. It is a wonder she thinks he’d show an interest in her.”
With one of the young ladies identified, it was not difficult to believe the second to be Miss Hettie Nelson, and Sophie had the strongest urge to shove the flower decorations the hostess had so lovingly prepared and watch the mess cascade over the callous pair. Of course, such violent sentiments were profoundly unhelpful, though Sophie indulged in a few fantasies nonetheless.
Outside of her Mr. Kingsley, Lily was one of Sophie’s favorite people, and hearing her denigrated in such a fashion by supposed friends was enough to drive Sophie to foolhardy actions. But before she could act on any of those promptings, the pair’s conversation shifted into territory that wrapped Sophie in ice as though she was lost on the Yorkshire moors amid a winter storm.
“Lily Kingsley is so desperate to believe she could attract a beau that it didn’t take much convincing. The fellow hasn’t noticed her once, yet with a single note and paltry posy of wildflowers, she thinks herself on the verge of matrimony,” said Miss Thompson with malicious glee. “She has been in alt all evening, constantly hanging around the poor fellow, waiting for him to declare himself.”
Miss Nelson sighed. “It has been funny to watch her swan about like a lovesick fool, but do you not think this is a tad cruel? And to sign his name to your notes? It puts him in a difficult position.”
“A bit of discomfort on his part, but the majority will be on Lily’s plump shoulders,” said Miss Thompson. “And she deserves every bit of it. We have little power over Mr. Kingsley, but do you think his sister should go unpunished for his callous behavior towards Victoria? He threw over one of the dearest people I know for a strumpet.”
Sophie didn’t need to listen any further. Not that she cared two jots about their opinion of herself—she harbored no high opinion of the young ladies, either—but there was nothing more to be gained from hearing their poisonous chatter. If they were to be believed, they’d laid a trap for Lily, and Sophie would not allow her to step into it. But what could she do? And who was the false sweetheart they’d used in their plot?
Scanning the ballroom, Sophie searched for Lily, hoping she might locate her before Miss Thompson’s plan came to fruition. But as her eyes darted through the sea of silks in search of Lily’s pale green, Sophie’s gaze fell to Miss Caswell’s fiery crimson and gold.
Without thought, Sophie emerged from her place, weaving through the crowd directly to Miss Caswell, who stood with Mr. Dixon to one side of the room. It wasn’t until she arrived in front of the young lady that Sophie realized how awkward and uncomfortable she ought to feel. Sophie halted before the pair, lost in the feeling of a thousand anxious spiders crawling along her spine.
But this was not about herself or Miss Caswell.
“What is the matter?” asked the young lady before Sophie could think of how to broach the subject.
Sophie cast a look at Mr. Dixon; she didn’t know how to explain it with him present.
“I give you my promise Mr. Dixon will not say a word,” said Miss Caswell, casting a glance in his direction, and he emphasized her words with a dip of his head. “But you must tell me what has you in such a dither. Is Mr. Kingsley unwell?”