The Husband Season. Mary Nichols

of it.’

      Sophie had only intended to praise Jane’s work, but her aunt had already told everyone she was well connected and she felt she could not contradict her, so she let it go. ‘If we are to be friends, please call me Sophie.’

      ‘Of course we shall be friends, so Sophie it shall be. You may call me Cassie. Everyone does except Mama and Papa and my grandparents.’

      ‘Cassie, do you have a beau?’

      ‘No, Mama would never tolerate it before I come out, but this year I hope to find a husband. What about you? Do you expect to find one while you are in town?’

      ‘That is the idea of a Season, is it not?’

      ‘Indeed it is. Have you anyone in mind?’

      ‘No one. My brother says I am too particular, but I will not marry just for the sake of it. I have already turned down three offers.’

      ‘Three!’ exclaimed Cassandra. ‘You cannot mean it.’

      ‘Indeed, I do.’

      ‘Were they all handsome and rich? Did they have titles?’

      ‘One was handsome and tolerably rich, one was a baronet and one a lord, but none combined all the attributes I am looking for. The lord was a widower with two children. I have no wish to be a second wife. I had no difficulty in rejecting them.’ She was boasting again, although she had said nothing that was not true and was amused by the expression on Cassandra’s face, a mixture of shock and incredulity.

      ‘What manner of man are you looking for?’

      ‘The same as every other young lady, I expect. Handsome, rich and titled, but he must be kind, considerate and care about the things I care about, and he must of all things be wildly in love with me, as I must be with him.’

      ‘You and I think alike, Sophie. Let us hope we are not both vying for the same man, if such a man can be found who is single and looking for a wife.’

      ‘Tell me about the dance.’ Sophie felt they had exhausted the topic of future husbands and she was feeling a little guilty over her boastfulness. It was not at all how she felt inside. ‘What shall you wear?’

      ‘Mama will not allow colours until after I have my come-out later in the Season, so white it will have to be, but I can have a coloured sash and coloured ribbons in my hair. Which colour would suit me, do you think?’

      Sophie stopped walking to turn towards her. ‘Green,’ she said. ‘Definitely green, it will enhance the colour of your eyes. And green slippers, of course.’

      Cassandra clapped her hands. ‘Yes, I am sure Mama will allow that. What about you? You are very fair and have blue eyes, so perhaps blue for you. Or maybe pink. Do you like pink?’

      ‘It depends on the shade, but I like blue best. I have a lovely blue ball gown in my luggage and a rose-pink gauze evening gown.’

      ‘You mean the whole dress is coloured, not white?’

      ‘I hate white. It may look delightful on you, but it makes me look insipid.’

      ‘Will your aunt allow it?’

      ‘I don’t see why not.’

      ‘But you will be defying convention.’

      ‘Pooh to convention.’

      Cassandra laughed. ‘Oh, I can see you are going to set the ton by the ears.’

      Sophie joined in the laughter. ‘That is the whole idea.’ She paused. ‘The gowns shall be a secret until the night I wear them, so do not say anything of them to your mama.’

      ‘I won’t. Shall we go back indoors? Lady Cartrose will be taking her leave by now.’

      They returned to the drawing room to find that Cassandra’s brother, Vincent, had arrived and their departure was delayed while Sophie was introduced to him.

      He was very like Cassandra in looks, half a head taller than she was and rather too thin to be called handsome. He was dressed in a dark grey coat and lighter grey pantaloons. His neckcloth was extravagantly tied and his shirt points starched to a board. They certainly made him keep his head up. His dark hair was cut short and curled towards his face. He bowed to her and took her hand. ‘How do you do, Miss Cavenhurst. I am told that you will be gracing the Rowlands’ dance with us. I shall look forward to that.’

      She withdrew her hand and smiled at him. ‘You are too kind.’

      ‘Come, Sophie,’ Emmeline said. ‘We have time for a turn around the park before going home. Lord Wyndham is to dine with us, so we shall have a little company this evening.’

      They took their leave and, once they were seated in the barouche and trotting along Brook Street towards Park Lane, her aunt asked her what she thought of Cassandra.

      ‘I think we shall deal very well together,’ Sophie said, speaking very loudly into her aunt’s ear. ‘She already thinks of me as her friend.’

      ‘Good. That means you will have a companion for outings when I cannot go with you. What did you think of Vincent?’

      ‘I really did not think of him at all, Aunt. We met so briefly.’

      ‘He is an admirable young man, and though he does not have a title, he will come into a considerable fortune when he inherits. In the meantime he is employed in his father’s law firm.’

      ‘If he is anything like Teddy, he doesn’t do much work there.’ She was obliged to repeat this twice before her aunt comprehended.

      ‘You are unkind to your brother, Sophie. I collect he worked very hard when he was in India, for he made a fortune there, enough to get himself and your papa out of dun country by all accounts.’

      ‘Oh, yes, I will give him that, but as for law work, he hated being behind a desk all day. Now he helps Papa on the estate. Mr Malthouse has no estate.’

      ‘That is true. But Mr Vincent Malthouse is only the first of many young men you will meet in the course of the next few weeks. I am persuaded you will be able to choose whomever you please.’

      Sophie was not so sure about that, considering she had so far only been engaged for a subscription dance. She needed more than that. She needed something happening every day and she needed to make an impression at every one of them.

      They turned in at the park and followed a parade of carriages passing others going in the opposite direction. Lady Cartrose knew so many people and they were continually stopping for her to gossip and introduce Sophie. Sophie bowed her head and said, ‘How do you do?’ and answered politely when they enquired if she was enjoying her stay in London, but she doubted she would remember all their names. One rider she would not forget, though he did not stop. He simply rode slowly past them on the other side of the rail, and she concluded he was not known to her aunt, for which she was thankful. She was not sure whether he had seen and recognised her, but turned her head away to talk to Lady Cartrose. ‘It is lovely to see the trees bursting into leaf,’ she said. ‘It makes me think of summer.’

      ‘And let us hope it is better than last summer,’ her aunt answered, unaware of Sophie’s agitation.

      ‘There,’ the old lady said, as they turned out of the gate to go home. ‘Everyone knows you are in town now, and if they do not they very soon will.’

      * * *

      Mark arrived at six that evening to dine with them as promised. He was in a cheerful mood and listened attentively to Lady Cartrose’s recital of their afternoon. ‘There is to be a subscription ball to honour the new princess,’ she told him. ‘You have no objection to Sophie attending with Mr and Mrs Malthouse and their daughter, Cassandra, have you? They are very respectable people, well up in the ton. I know she should not be attending balls before her come-out, but this is not a formal ball and it is in a good cause.’

      ‘My lady,