In the course of one week, Stefan proved to be a very attentive suitor, if not, as Caroline mentally pointed out, ardent enough to proclaim to all of London his designs upon Sophie’s person. Still, the promenades on Hyde Park and the frequent visits had much to say. Caroline had once disclosed to him some of her cousin’s favorite things, and among those she had prattled on, Stefan took most interest on Sophie’s favorite flowers. It came as no surprise then, that on the occasion of his next visit, he had in his hand a bouquet of beautiful (and quite expensive) tulips, and upon presenting the dainty bundle, Sophie was quite beyond delighted and Caroline had let out a girlish squeal.
“Why, thank you, my lord. These are quite lovely,” Sophie had smiled sweetly at him and eyed lovingly the bouquet. “How could you have guess that tulips are my favorite?”
Before Stefan could even respond, Caroline had announced, “It’s only that Lord Stokeford is quite excellent in choosing flowers. Well, isn’t that charming?”
Despite the placid countenance he was sporting, Stefan could not prevent the color rising on his cheeks, as he wasn’t quite used of being complemented by a lady. In his case, it was rarity. Caroline might have spied those faint tints, because she had offered him a secret smile.
Saturday night saw Stefan at White’s, enjoying his glass like he had never been before. Thus far, he was pleased by the events these past days which rendered him a vague sense of confidence that he could somehow be an able candidate for Sophie’s hand. Not that he was readying himself for matrimony; God knows he definitely wasn’t. But then that simple desire for a walk or conversation, and perhaps a companionship with the lady he had come to like wasn’t quite too much, was it?
Later, Robert appeared in front of his table, looking vaguely amused as he settled himself across Stefan. “With that look on your face I gather your visit on Miss Winscott was met with success?”
“I suggest you stop referring to it with success. You make it sound like an inauspicious pursuit rather than a friendly visit,” Stefan grunted.
Robert let out a throaty chuckle. “Begging your pardon, but I dare not concede on the latter. It is anything but friendly.”
“Perhaps you have better things to do than ruining my mood.”
“Oh, so sorry,” he replied, though looking less than repentant by that devilish grin spread across his face. “Believe me, I am not up to ruining your mood, as I see that it soars high as Windsor Castle. How is our fair Miss Winscott?”
“She fares quite fine.”
“And quite lovely as ever. No doubt your visits have turned into regular occurrence.”
Stefan sent a scowl on his friend, but the latter only smiled slyly. “Come now, Stefan. For a man helplessly in love, you’re surely doing a poor job.”
Helplessly in love? He shook his head mentally. Surely he wasn’t that besotted, was he?
“And Caroline? How is she?”
The very mention of Caroline snapped him in full attention. Narrowing his eyes into slits, Stefan said, “And since when had you taken the liberty of calling her by her first name, might I ask?”
Robert shrugged and helped himself with his brandy. “Since we had agreed upon the notion. Precisely, by the time you were quite occupied with your romantic pursuit.”
YOU ARE READING
Like No Other
Historical FictionWHEN AN UNLIKELY SUITOR.... The Earl of Stokeford is hardly a man of amiable disposition and social graces. He scowls whenever he pleases, becomes rude at any time convenient for him, and worse, has a regrettable tendency to scare ladies out of thei...