Embarrassed? At being caught almost nose to canvas? Her blush was endearing.
Flustered? At realising they were now alone and unchaperoned here in the library? He felt flustered himself.
"I beg your pardon. I thought I was alone," she said. Her eyes were downcast demurely, but he could hear the challenge in her tone.
"It seems that I was also too impatient to await the great unveiling. I had to see this masterpiece for myself."
She stepped aside to allow him a clearer view and he took the invitation to walk towards her. They stood side by side and the light floral scent of honeysuckle and cinnamon teased his senses. It was a heady, delicious aroma.
"Well, what do you think, Sinclair?" she asked him eagerly.
He bit back a smile at her use of his first name and thought about his response. It was clear she also enjoyed the arts, so he paused his attempts at flirtation. "Many artists have tried to capture the famed scene, but I truly believe Botticelli does it best. Anyone can paint a shell and a body but it is her expression, the way he has captured the juxtaposition of modesty and haughtiness, that takes a true talent.”
To his surprise, his genuine and thought-out answer had more of an impact then he imagined his flirting would have had, as he watched her doe eyes widen with pleasure.
"You know your art, Sin. You can interpret it beyond the surface. How unexpected," Sophie told him in her husky voice.
It made him feel almost shy, to elicit this reaction by being simply himself and not falling back on the charm that had become so second nature.
"Well, yes. I have just returned from travelling abroad where I saw many famed works, sights, and museums. There is a world beyond our dreary, rainy London."
"How lucky you are! My longest travel from London was to Bath. And yes, we do have historical sites here at home buttravelling abroad away must be like travelling to a different realm indeed," she said wistfully.
Suddenly, Sin wanted to know her more deeply. Not just to dance this dance till they found themselves in a pleasurable tryst. No. There was something about her. Something inside Sophie was searching for the zest in life, but he did not think she knew what it was. He held her gaze intently, and she blushed a little but did not look away.
"While ordinarily I would agree with you, standing here between this famed piece of art and you, a beautiful Goddess personified, is the first time I have seen something so appealing in London."
His head slowly descended and her fluttering eyelashes were all the signal he needed to press his lips to hers. Just as he felt their breath mingle, the moment was broken by a loud snort.
"How unoriginal!" said a glaring Margot from the doorway, hands on her hips. An apologetic Daniel shrugged behind her.
Sin sighed and gave a contrite bow in Margot's direction.
"I can assure you I meant every word, but I would agree this is most improper. Please accept my apologies, both of you," he said, gesturing to Margot and Sophie.
"All is forgiven, Sinclair," Sophie said with sincerity. He turned, again noting the use of his first name, and her pale jade eyes now twinkled with mischief. It was evident his kiss would not have been a source of discontent for Sophie.Oh Sophie,Goddess and saucy temptress. You will be mine.
Chapter Seven
It was a beautiful day, yellow rays beamed through the fluffy clouds scattered across the blue sky. Margot had suggested they take tea outside and let her boys run around. And run around they did, as Sophie watched them zig and zag on their tiny toddler legs. They finally exhausted themselves and were napping on a blanket, which allowed Sophie and Margot to call for a fresh pot of tea they could drink before it got cold.
"No wonder you are in such a good shape," Sophie whispered, not wanting to wake them.
"You don't have to whisper, just not too loud, Soph," Margot said, one eye on her sleeping cherubs. "They do keep me trim, but I promised I would be a hands-on mother, unlike our own."
Sophie nodded with appreciation. Their mothers were friends, and both had parenting styles where children were not to be seen or heard. Thankfully, their nannies had become close friends as well, which allowed the girls much time spent together. Margot's mother was a tad warmer than her own and had at least allowed Margot to have a season. Sophie's parents did not want the fanfare and fuss that had come along with it. And her mother never failed to remind her she would never be an incomparable. The giddiness of the stolen almost-kisslast night left Sophie wondering what she had missed out on by not having a season. Living vicariously through Margot had been exciting but to feel that reckless feeling herself had been exhilarating. Not that it was so scandalous, she was a widow after all. Most widows enjoyed a little more freedom, depending on how much you cared for gossip and standing. Still, Sophie knew her parents would be horrified if she publicly shamed them by kissing a rake and allowing herself to be compromised.
Margot was watching her, waiting for her to bring up Sin. Sinclair. They had been distracted by the children but her grace period was now gone, and Margot was about to burst as she wriggled on the seat.
"I like him, Margot. I know you have taken an instant disliking to him and I am sure you have your reasons, but I am not an innocent virgin you need to protect. I am a mature widow." Sophie felt silly saying the last part out loud, and as soon as she locked eyes with Margot they burst out laughing before reminding each other to hush. Thankfully, the boys slept on.
"Soph, calling yourself a mature widow makes you sound our mothers’ age. Though I know what you mean. I want you to enjoy yourself, but I do not want to see you hurt. And yes, I do have my reasons to dislike Sinclair Montgomery," Margot confirmed in a haughty tone.
"And those reasons are?" Sophie enquired, raising one eyebrow in curiosity.
"Reason one. You have only known one man, your husband, who was a dreadful bore. I am afraid going straight from that to a reprobate will leave you well out of your depth. I am all for you finding a passionate dalliance, or something more like the marriage Daniel and I share. Sinclair is not a man for that, which leads me into reason two. His return means Daniel will spendtime with him, and I do not want Sinclair leading Daniel back to his rakehell days which you know I whipped out of him."
"I sincerely doubt Daniel would ever step a toe over the line to cause you ire. But you are right about Sinclair. He is not in my league and I cannot compare to the beautiful, svelte women within the ton."
