Like No Other

Chapter 18: A Dawning Jealousy

                                                         Chapter 18

                                                 A Dawning Jealousy

        

        Later that night, Caroline naturally apprised her cousin of what had happened in her afternoon. “A musical soiree at Lord Stokeford’s house?” Sophie echoed dazedly at the end of her short narrative. 

        “Yes, isn’t it famous? Your mother was very delighted when I confided it to her before she set off for Mrs Weber’s card party. She said, ‘why, my dear, you’ve made quite a favourable impression to the Countess!’ But I told her no, it must have been you, Sophie, for the Countess said she met you in a soiree, and found you lovely and charming — although you never breathed a word to me about it! Well, that was what eventually cast my Aunt Emilia in rapture! Perhaps the prospect of you being the next Lady Stokeford thrilled her prodigiously so.” 

        “Oh, I quite forgot to tell you about it; I’m sorry!” replied Sophie with a sheepish smile, picked up a brush and ran it through her hair. “Yes, it was at Lady Jersey’s soiree, and you weren’t there because you had an headache and stayed at home. But pray, do not talk fustian, Caro! Mama does not cherish hopes for so far-fetched a prospect! Do tell me, what do you think of the Countess? Isn’t she a beauty?”

        “Yes, she is,” agreed Caroline, but her brows furrowed as a thought occurred to her. “You know Sophie, I think she and Lord Stokeford do not get along quite well,” she quietly remarked.

        “Oh? But how could you tell?”

        “Well,” she said slowly, “I just observed how — coldly polite Lord Stokeford was towards her. He seemed rather detached that one could almost say he might have been talking to a stranger. As for the Countess, I daresay she does not care a button for him, either.”

        “You’re an acute observer, my dear,” returned Sophie with some amusement. “But perhaps they are just being ceremonious — it is rather de rigueur among the peerage, you know. Besides,” she said matter-of-factly, “Lord Stokeford strikes me as an impassive man for the most part, except when he is in a fit of temper, of course. It wouldn’t surprise me if he treated his relatives with no more than due courtesy.”

        These observations, however, sounded terribly unjustifiable to its hearer. Caroline was moved to differ with her cousin, declaring indignantly, “If that is what you think, then I’d say your reading of his lordship’s character is grossly wrong, Sophie! He may appear to be impassive, but he is not as cold as you think he is, for he could be charming and a horrid tease if he chose to be!”

        “I see that my little cousin has been very friendly with someone these days!” exclaimed Sophie in laughing tones.

        “Well, it doesn’t signify anything at all!” she retorted, but was aware of reddening cheeks. Her cousin shrugged and assented, though the quivering on her lips did not abate in the least. “And besides,” persisted Caroline with a petulant look, “he is your beau, not mine!” When no answer was returned, she demanded impetuously: “Do you care for him, Sophie? Even — even just a little?”

        The laughter died on her lips. With a sigh, Sophie stood up and walked away from her vanity table towards Caroline, who was perched on the bed. She sat beside her and clasped her hand. “My dear,” she began softly, “if you must know, my feelings for Lord Stokeford is nothing more than a profound respect. To care for someone requires some — weightier sentiments, you understand. I  won’t pretend that I am not flattered by his attentions; truly, I do, but I can assure you that he doesn’t cherish any warmer feelings for me any more than I do for him.” As if an afterthought, she added candidly, “And he overwhelms me sometimes.”