Lyddie stole a shy glance at him and said, “A brave soldier.”
Sophie hesitated only a moment. “Right. Good idea. She quickly painted a brave soldier.”
“A cap’in!” Martha insisted.
“A brave captain. In a red coat, and a...?” Sophie hesitated, encircling her head with her hands.
“A black hat,” he supplied.
“And a sword!” Martha added.
Sophie bit her lip. Were they to have violence right there in the little girls’ bedchamber, in one of her princess stories? She decided to ignore the suggestion. “The brave soldier came to life, leapt from the canvas, faced the snarling bear and...”
She looked nervously at the captain, hoping he would follow her lead, wincing in anticipation of a bloody stab or decapitation.
Apparently ignoring her in favor of their captive audience, he said, “And thinking quickly, the soldier drew his sword and from the painting cut a handful of fruit, which had become real, and offered it to the bear in exchange for the lady’s life. The bear gobbled down the fruit, belched, and slunk back into the wood for a nap.”
Martha giggled. Lyddie pressed a hand over her mouth in delight.
“The end,” Sophie finished in relief.
The girls clapped.
Sophie looked at the captain. He met her gaze, eyes warm with humor.
At dawn the next morning, Stephen was awoken by quiet footsteps. He saw Sophie tiptoe into the room, gingerly lift the bedclothes, and slip into bed with her stepsisters. He guessed she’d been down working in her father’s studio again.
He waited until her breathing had slowed into a regular, relaxed rhythm, then rose and quickly dressed. Curious, he slipped from the room and down the stairs.
He inched open the studio door, expecting to find the room empty. Instead Mr. Dupont stood there in dressing gown and slippers, chin propped in his hand.
He glanced over. “Ah, Captain. Good morning.”
“Mr. Dupont.”
“Do you see the eyes? How alive they look? How natural?”
Stephen crossed the room and stood beside him. “Yes,” he agreed. He could not have verbalized specifically what had been changed, but it seemed a marked improvement over the face he’d glimpsed before.
Mr. Dupont mused aloud, “Why is it, Captain, that we only appreciate what we have after it is gone? If only the thought of losing something or someone would cause us to value it while it’s right under our nose.”
Stephen nodded. He was already thinking about—and dreading—losing Sophie. “I understand how you feel, sir.”
Not removing his eyes from the painting, Mr. Dupont said quietly, “Promise me you will take good care of her, Captain.”
Stephen drew in a long breath. “I would love nothing more than to make that promise, sir, but I cannot. I will very soon have to leave her. I have rarely wished for the luxury of staying at hearth and home more than I do now. I cannot. However, I assure you that my family will take good care of her. She will have everything she needs at Overtree Hall. The best doctor in the county lives not two miles from us.”
Mr. Dupont turned to frown at him. “Doctor? Why on earth should Sophie need a doctor?”
Stephen inwardly cursed his undisciplined mouth. “I only meant... should she have some cold or trifling malady...”
The man’s eyes measured his. “Ah. Well. Considering your talk of twins yesterday, I guess there may be more to the story, but I don’t think I ought to ask.”
The man was sharper than he seemed. Stephen felt his ears heat at the implication of his father-in-law’s words, as though he had done something to be embarrassed about. He did not defend himself. He would gladly take the blame if he could.
Along with her favorite drawing and painting supplies, Sophie packed her best clothes and two evening gowns she had not bothered to take with her to rustic Lynmouth. She imagined she would need her finest things to pass muster at Overtree Hall. She surveyed the room and her dressing chest, wondering what else she should take with her, having no idea how long it might be until she returned to visit.
When she was ready, the captain carried her extra valise as well as his own, and together they went downstairs to the vestibule, where the Duponts had assembled to bid them farewell.
