Ignoring the slight, she curtsied in turn. “Mr. Keith. A pleasure to see you again. I had heard you might be joining us.”
“So not an unwelcome surprise, then? I am glad to hear it. My presence irritates Mrs. O, I can tell you. But I once told Katherine the story of how I saved her brother’s life, and she told her parents... and now I am an honored guest here at Overtree Hall whenever I like.”
“And the captain does not correct your account of who rescued whom?” Sophie asked. “Remember you already told me the true story.”
“Nah. He is content to let me be the hero. Not fond of fawning attention, our captain, if you haven’t learned that yet. Unlike me.” He grinned. “I drink it like broth from a bowl.”
He gestured toward his evening clothes and cravat. “I clean up pretty well, don’t I? Vexes the colonel’s valet no end having to dress me, too.” He chuckled. Then his green-eyed gaze swept her curled hair and satin gown. “You clean up well yourself.”
“Thank you.”
Mr. Keith stepped to the sideboard and refilled his glass. “Look at the pair of us. Both here in Overtree Hall, where we’ve both longed to be for some time, I imagine.” He smirked. “Now don’t look daggers at me like that. We each have our ways of getting what we want. I imagine you had been practicing writing a certain name in a hopeful hand long before you met the captain.Mrs. Sophie Overtree. Mrs. SophieOvertree...” He drained his glass.
Captain Overtree entered, looking masculine and almost civilized in black evening attire and starched white cravat. Only his longish hair, overgrown side-whiskers, and his glare marred the image of a well-turned-out gentleman.
“Keith. What have you been saying to my wife that has her looking so ill?”
“I was simply congratulating her on her marriage, old man. And the same to you.” Mr. Keith crossed the room, hand extended. “I wish you happy, Captain. I sincerely do.”
Colonel Horton joined them late for dinner, saying little about the errand that had taken him away that day, except that he had paid a visit to an old friend. Sophie remained quiet throughout the meal as well, discomfited to find Mr. Keith’s amused gaze watching her, and feeling even more self-conscious than she had before about sitting at the Overtree table as though she belonged there.
Afterward, when the ladies rose to withdraw to the parlour, Captain Overtree excused himself from the other men and walked out with them. He drew Sophie aside and led her into the empty great hall. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“You were awfully quiet at dinner. Are you worried about Lieutenant Keith?”
Sophie sighed. “A little, yes. I think he knows, or at least suspects, what went on between Wesley and me.”
The captain nodded. “Likely. Come to think of it, he mentioned having to spend a great deal of time away from the cottage while Wesley painted you. The insinuation was definitely there, if not the absolute certainty.”
She felt her face heat. “At first painting was truly all it was. I refused to pose with Mr. Keith there, lying on his pallet, head propped on his hand, smirking up at me. Especially when Wesley asked to paint me in Grecian robes, though I drew the line at one bare shoulder.” She shook her head. “What a hypocrite you must think me. You no doubt scoff at the notion of my modesty.”
“Not at all. I can see you are modest and ladylike by nature.”
She blinked up at him timidly, afraid to find irony or sarcasm there. When he earnestly met her gaze, she sighed in relief. “Thank you. I am usually, yes.”
“And it becomes you. Try not to worry about Keith. I will speak to him.”
“And after you leave...?”
A muffled sound caught her ear. A scuff or cough. She turned to look over her shoulder.
The captain frowned and looked around the hall as well, but there was no one there.
He lowered his voice, “I will make sure he knows there will be consequences if I hear of any disrespect or innuendo.”
“Thank you.”
Neither of them raised the unspoken question: But what if the captain didn’t live to return, let alone to dish out the threatened consequences?
Later, after they’d spent a little time with the others in the parlour, Stephen suggested he and Sophie retire early, which caused knowing looks to be exchanged and Sophie’s face to redden. He silently cursed his lack of tact.
As they climbed the stairs together, Sophie hissed, “Did you have to do that? Now they’ll all wonder what we’re doing...”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “We are supposedly on our honeymoon, Sophie. I don’t think they’ll wonder if we slip off alone now and again. In fact, they would wonder if we didn’t. And as I am due to leave soon, I thought we should talk.”
“Oh.” She swallowed. “Of course.”
