loved her.
Earlier in the evening, Patrice had mentioned that Niles wanted to see her. Sophie couldn't imagine what he wanted, and she had no interest in finding out. She wasn't sure what she would do if she came face-to-face with him after so many years.
Somehow she slipped through a knot of guests to escape, and practically ran into Bradford and Emmaline Hawthorne.
"Little Sophie," Bradford said grandly, kissing her hand like a Renaissance courtier.
He was a tall, distinguished man with broad shoulders. He had the ability to be charming, but she remembered too well when he had so callously sent Grayson out on his own. She had hated the man back then, and still couldn't quite bring herself to forgive him.
"Now really, Bradford," Emmaline Hawthorne said, extending her hands to Sophie, "she is no longer a little girl." She pulled her into a loving embrace before setting her at arm's length. "She has grown up to be a beautiful young woman."
Emmaline was soft and dreamy, her age lending her a grace and dignity that youth would never allow. Sophie's own mother had been more practical than beautiful, and Sophie had always marveled at Emmaline's ethereal loveliness.
The older woman's smile softened. "I know your mother would be proud of you. I wish so terribly that she were here to see your success."
Sophie felt a poignant lump swell in her throat, the sudden wish that her mother were with her now hitting her so hard she nearly stumbled. "Thank you, Mrs. Hawthorne," she managed. "That means a great deal to me."
They were interrupted when someone called out her name.
"Sophie!" a woman exclaimed, striding up to them in a cloud of shimmering skirts and sparkling jewelry. "Don't you look smashing," she cried, then extravagantly kissed the air beside either cheek.
It took a second for Sophie to realize that the woman was Megan Robertson. Megan was shorter than her, and rounder in a voluptuous sort of way, with dark brown hair done up in a mass of twists and curls, and large brown eyes. As an adult she was lovely in a Rubenesque sort of way. But when she was eighteen she had been called darling—and had been awarded Sophie's solo in the Grand Debut.
"Hello, Megan," Sophie replied evenly, hating the flash of insecurity that surged inside her as if five years hadn't passed. She was successful now, she had to remind herself.
Megan quickly greeted the Hawthornes, who then excused themselves, leaving the two women alone. Megan whirled back to Sophie.
"You must come with me! Everyone is talking of nothing but you, and I am going to show you off."
Megan hooked her arm through Sophie's as though they were still schoolgirls and began leading her from room to room of the Wentworth house. Sophie didn't know what to make of this girl who had always competed with her, always promising that one day she would be the best. After all these years, was she trying to be kind?
Sophie all but scoffed out loud at the surge of gladness that this once most popular girl would befriend her now. They were adults, not children.
"You remember James Willis," Megan said, waving to a man, then pulling her along to his side.
"James, love. You remember our Sophie, don't you?"
"Of course." The man was dressed in expensive but slightly rumpled evening wear, and the pomade he used wasn't completely successful in taming the cowlick on the top of his head. "It has been a long time."
Sophie felt a devilish smile pull at her lips. "Yes, it's been a very long time. I haven't seen you since you put a frog down my dress."
James blushed a bright shade of red, and Megan laughed gaily. She swatted James's coat sleeve with her fan. "You didn't."
"As I recall," Sophie replied, "you helped him, Megan."
"Oh, yes." She laughed and pulled Sophie on. "How could I forget the way you squirmed around and carried on like you'd been shot? You always were such an actress." She raised her hand. "Thomas! Thomas Redding. Look who I have here."
Sophie felt her teeth start to
Earlier in the evening, Patrice had mentioned that Niles wanted to see her. Sophie couldn't imagine what he wanted, and she had no interest in finding out. She wasn't sure what she would do if she came face-to-face with him after so many years.
Somehow she slipped through a knot of guests to escape, and practically ran into Bradford and Emmaline Hawthorne.
"Little Sophie," Bradford said grandly, kissing her hand like a Renaissance courtier.
He was a tall, distinguished man with broad shoulders. He had the ability to be charming, but she remembered too well when he had so callously sent Grayson out on his own. She had hated the man back then, and still couldn't quite bring herself to forgive him.
"Now really, Bradford," Emmaline Hawthorne said, extending her hands to Sophie, "she is no longer a little girl." She pulled her into a loving embrace before setting her at arm's length. "She has grown up to be a beautiful young woman."
Emmaline was soft and dreamy, her age lending her a grace and dignity that youth would never allow. Sophie's own mother had been more practical than beautiful, and Sophie had always marveled at Emmaline's ethereal loveliness.
The older woman's smile softened. "I know your mother would be proud of you. I wish so terribly that she were here to see your success."
Sophie felt a poignant lump swell in her throat, the sudden wish that her mother were with her now hitting her so hard she nearly stumbled. "Thank you, Mrs. Hawthorne," she managed. "That means a great deal to me."
They were interrupted when someone called out her name.
"Sophie!" a woman exclaimed, striding up to them in a cloud of shimmering skirts and sparkling jewelry. "Don't you look smashing," she cried, then extravagantly kissed the air beside either cheek.
It took a second for Sophie to realize that the woman was Megan Robertson. Megan was shorter than her, and rounder in a voluptuous sort of way, with dark brown hair done up in a mass of twists and curls, and large brown eyes. As an adult she was lovely in a Rubenesque sort of way. But when she was eighteen she had been called darling—and had been awarded Sophie's solo in the Grand Debut.
"Hello, Megan," Sophie replied evenly, hating the flash of insecurity that surged inside her as if five years hadn't passed. She was successful now, she had to remind herself.
Megan quickly greeted the Hawthornes, who then excused themselves, leaving the two women alone. Megan whirled back to Sophie.
"You must come with me! Everyone is talking of nothing but you, and I am going to show you off."
Megan hooked her arm through Sophie's as though they were still schoolgirls and began leading her from room to room of the Wentworth house. Sophie didn't know what to make of this girl who had always competed with her, always promising that one day she would be the best. After all these years, was she trying to be kind?
Sophie all but scoffed out loud at the surge of gladness that this once most popular girl would befriend her now. They were adults, not children.
"You remember James Willis," Megan said, waving to a man, then pulling her along to his side.
"James, love. You remember our Sophie, don't you?"
"Of course." The man was dressed in expensive but slightly rumpled evening wear, and the pomade he used wasn't completely successful in taming the cowlick on the top of his head. "It has been a long time."
Sophie felt a devilish smile pull at her lips. "Yes, it's been a very long time. I haven't seen you since you put a frog down my dress."
James blushed a bright shade of red, and Megan laughed gaily. She swatted James's coat sleeve with her fan. "You didn't."
"As I recall," Sophie replied, "you helped him, Megan."
"Oh, yes." She laughed and pulled Sophie on. "How could I forget the way you squirmed around and carried on like you'd been shot? You always were such an actress." She raised her hand. "Thomas! Thomas Redding. Look who I have here."
Sophie felt her teeth start to
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