“Perhaps,” the marquess mused, his expression grim. “I truly hope that is the case.”

As the marquess stalked from the room, Reese dragged a hand down his face. He needed to warn Sophie before her engagement ball. And, if at all possible, he needed to get her journal back.

Chapter 33

“We’re going to your engagement ball, not a funeral.” Mary tugged on her pale yellow kidskin gloves and checked her reflection in the mirror of Sophie’s vanity. “You might at least pretend to be happy.”

“I know,” Sophie said, tamping down an unseemly but potent wave of resentment. “It’s been a rather trying day.” Since most of the staff were gone, Sophie and Mary had taken on many of the household chores. They were exhausted before they even began ironing their gowns, styling their hair, and dressing each other.

Besides, Sophie was saving all her pretending for tonight’s ball. When Lord Singleton—that is, Charles—announced their engagement at midnight, she would have to play the part of a delighted bride-to-be. And that was going to be exceedingly difficult, considering she was still grieving over losing Reese and desperately worried that her journal would fall into the wrong hands. Or any hands. Blast.

Sophie was fastening the clasp of her aquamarine necklace when Mrs. Pettigrew, their sweet and loyal housekeeper, appeared in the doorway. Upon seeing Sophie and Mary, she pressed a thin hand to her chest and gasped. “Goodness me,” she said. “You two look like a pair of princesses.”

It was true—they had turned out rather well. Mary’s thick blond hair was piled on top of her head with loose ringlets framing her face. Dressed in white silk shot through with gold thread, she looked as though she should have been the belle of the ball.

Sophie had pulled her hair to one side, letting the long curls spill over her shoulder. She’d settled on a pale green silk gown embroidered with dark green vines because Fiona and Lily had once said it made her resemble the goddess of spring, and if ever she’d needed the courage and confidence of a goddess, tonight was the time.

But her favorite accessory was the crown of white silk flowers she’d woven into her hair. They weren’t asphodels, but they made her feel as though Reese was with her. And they reminded her of the night when he’d pronounced her the queen of all she surveyed.

Sophie cast the housekeeper a grateful smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Pettigrew. And thank you for all your help today.”

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Sophie.” The housekeeper beamed. “To think you’ll soon be a marchioness!”

“Yes,” Sophie replied, feeling herself wilt.

“Well, then,” Mrs. Pettigrew said, “there’s no time to dally. I just left your mother and father downstairs; they said they’ll wait for you in the coach.”