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the girl was talking about, but she smiled anyway, and made a mental note to quiz Mrs. Summers later on the peculiar eating habits of Londoners. Mrs. Summers had spent an inordinate amount of time tutoring Sophie on the ways of the ton , but obviously she had overlooked a few things.
    “That footman of yours, he left a note for you, miss.”
    “Footman?”
    “That Chinese man, Mr. Wang.”
    “Oh, he’s not a footman, Penny. He’s more of a friend…family really.”
    Sophie opened the letter, already knowing its contents. Mr. Wang had left to visit friends in Wales after seeing Mrs. Summers and herself comfortably settled. He would see her again in a few months.
    “I really wish I could have said good-bye in person,” she sighed.
    “Nothing for it, miss. Mr. Wang wouldn’t let us wake you, said you needed to rest after your accident.”
    Sophie snorted to herself. Mr. Wang hadn’t been concerned for her health. He wouldn’t have left if there were any question of her quick recovery. What he had no doubt wanted was to avoid a scene like the one that occurred the last time he left for an extended holiday. Sophie had cried so hard she had cast up her accounts on his trunk and Mr. Wang had been obliged to postpone his visit until he could calm Sophie down. And repack.
    “I was thirteen,” Sophie grumbled. “One would think he’d have forgiven me by now.”
    “Beg your pardon, miss?”
    “Nothing, Penny.”
    Sophie gave herself one more minute to mourn the temporary loss of her friend before dressing and setting out to find Mrs. Summers and breakfast.
    She found the former already at the latter. She asked for scones, sat down across from her companion, and poured a cup of tea. “Will Lord Loudor be joining us this morning?”
    “No.” Mrs. Summers replied. “I believe his lordship had a rather late night and is not feeling quite the thing this morning.”
    “Oh, I do hope it’s nothing serious.”
    “It is not.” Mrs. Summers took a dainty sip from her cup. “As I said, he had a late night…at White’s, a gentlemen’s club, with the Duke of Rockeforte and Lord Thurston.”
    “I see.” Somehow, from their correspondence, Sophie had gotten the impression that her cousin was not the type of man to overindulge in drink, but then there was really only so much you could learn about someone from a letter. Still, it would have been nice if he had taken her arrival into consideration before becoming so foxed he could not greet her properly the next day.
    “The Duke of Rockeforte called this morning,” Mrs. Summers chimed pleasantly.
    Sophie’s mental rebuke of her cousin’s behavior was immediately forgotten. In its stead a rather heady feeling ofexcitement washed over her. Silly. She had spoken only a few words to the man and those in only a semiconscious state. She schooled her face into a disinterested expression.
    “Did he?”
    “Yes, he came to inquire after your health.”
    Sophie took a hurried drink of tea and blanched when she realized she hadn’t yet added milk or sugar. “Good of him,” she mumbled.
    “He left his card and mentioned he would be at the Calmaton ball this Saturday,” Mrs. Summers continued causally. “He looks forward to seeing you there.”
    Lord Calmaton, Sophie remembered, was on the list Mr. Smith had given her.
    She piled sugar into her cup hastily. “And I him. I should like to thank him properly for his assistance yesterday—and Lord Thurston’s, of course.”
    “Of course. You should be flattered, you know. I’m told Rockeforte very rarely goes into society…or good society at any rate. He usually spends the season at one of his country estates.”
    “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
    Mrs. Summers narrowed her sharp eyes. “Don’t be deliberately obtuse, dear. It’s obvious he means to attend the ball for a chance to further his acquaintance with you.”
    Sophie was inordinately pleased that her food arrived just then. Grabbing a scone, she