good,” Lady Adelaide said with a sigh. “You’re awake.”
“They weren’t going to wait much longer,” Miss Snowley added.
Miss Hancock crossed her arms. “They will wait as long as they have to. You two might have reason not to fluster their feathers, but I am perfectly happy to tell them to rest their tails.”
Sophia shook her head. “What is going on?”
The curtains had been pulled across the windows, giving her no indication of the time of day. The only light came from two lanterns on a table across the room.
It made the women look like specters of doom.
“The men are downstairs,” Lady Adelaide said. “They would like to see you.”
Men. Did that include Aaron? She swallowed and looked from one woman to the next. They’d have told her if he’d come back, wouldn’t they?
Feeling fully rested and more than ready to be somewhere other than bed, not to mention anxious to find out what the women weren’t telling her, Sophia flung aside the covers and rose. She crossed to the window and pulled back the curtain to reveal the early edges of dawn. A common time to rise when she’d been meeting Aaron on the Heath, but people didn’t come calling at this hour unless it was an emergency.
She turned to see Miss Snowley holding up a garment. “This is for you.”
It was a riding habit. A normal one. With a green jacket and a long red skirt. “What . . . why?”
Miss Hancock took the dress and pressed it into Sophia’s hands. “Because there’s a drawing room full of men down there, and if you go in feeling polished and put together, it will be harder to pick you apart.”
“I hardly think they mean her harm, Harriet,” Lady Adelaide said gently.
“They don’t need to do a thing when she’s capable of shredding herself on her own.” Miss Hancock frowned. “This is for her, not them.”
As much as Sophia wanted to deny it, Miss Hancock’s claim had a nugget of truth to it. Her normal clothing reminded her often that she was different and at somewhat of a disadvantage in life. Perhaps a nicer dress would allow her to better fake composure.
She took the edge of the soft wool skirt and fanned it out. This dress inspired more excitement than the evening gown. “It’s lovely.”
“And you will look lovely in it.” In short order Abigail was summoned and the ladies took their leave, telling her to come down whenever she was ready. Twenty minutes later, even the elegant riding habit with its pinned-up skirt and wide shoulders wasn’t enough to bolster Sophia’s confidence. She stood at the drawing room door, staring at the portal until a maid cleared her throat.
“Beg pardon, miss, but are you going in? I need to deliver this tea tray.”
“Right.” Sophia swallowed. “Yes.” She preceded the woman into the room, cheeks flaming.
As the women had said, the drawing room was full of people.
Lord Farnsworth stepped away from a group of men clustered by the window. “You look well, Miss Fitzroy.”
“I am much improved, thank you.”
“Good.” He gestured to a sofa. “Have a seat, if you will. We were hoping you might remember more. Perhaps Aaron said something in the past two weeks to indicate where he went?”
“He didn’t do much talking,” Sophia admitted. “Just a lot of staring and frowning.”
“He does tend to do that,” said the stranger who’d spoken at the stable.
Introductions were made, identifying the man as Lord Wharton, whom Aaron had mentioned as Graham in the rare times he’d discussed his travel or school days.
His wife sat on a settee beside Lady Rebecca.
Knowing who everyone was didn’t make the scene less intimidating. She fleetingly wished Jonas was there to support her but then was glad he was absent. This conversation could go many ways, and though Jonas was mild mannered compared to other men, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw aside his new job and defend her.
Not that she thought anyone here meant her harm, but their loyalty was—and should be—with Aaron. She licked her lips. “I’m sorry. I’ve nothing to add. The only place I know of is his cottage, and I’m assuming you’ve checked there.”
The potential implications of her knowing where his home was entered her mind too late to stop the sentence. Embarrassment heated her cheeks, but no one else seemed to care. They’d all moved on to other possibilities.
Lord Farnsworth started pacing. “He wouldn’t have gone to his rooms in London, would he?”
Lord Wharton leaned on the back of a chair,