But would he be coming with her? There were a great many moving parts, many pieces to the puzzle. She could not fathom how they would all fit together in the end.
He nodded, glancing at the couple across from them. His voice was low, the back of his hand still against hers. “We are meant to return to Weybridge tomorrow, but if this continues through the night…”
The rain attacked the carriage roof with vigor, but the noise was nearly drowned by the sudden pounding in her ears. Tomorrow? Yes. Yes, it had been one week, though it had flown by with her hardly realizing. And there was no going back now, not with Mrs. Haverwick aware of their so-called marriage. Even if she did not get the position, she had captured Andrew well and truly. He could not escape.
Her eyes suddenly burned at that, and she tilted her head in case tears followed. “If we need to delay a day for the roads to improve, we can.” She hoped for a delay. She’d not intended to fall for her faux husband, and now she needed to reevaluate how to approach the future.
His touch, light and tentative, brushed her wrist. “Sophie,” he said in an undertone.
She held back a shiver and forced a smile, though he couldn’t see it. “All will be well, I am sure.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Anote came along with breakfast the following morning. An invitation, for both Sophie and Andrew, from the Whitcombs.
“Your employer? What could he want with the both of us?” Andrew asked over his drink.
She folded the page, creasing it with her thumb and forefinger. “They are having a dinner party. Tonight.”
His brows lifted. “That is cutting matters rather fine, is it not?”
Sophie offered a wry smile. “Something tells me they did not intend to invite me—they had hoped to have replaced me by now.”
“Shall we snub them by rejecting the offer? We… ah, we are meant to return to Weybridge today.”
That made her wish to set down her toast. She was, of a sudden, quite unsettled by the idea. “How is the weather today?”
“The rain turned to snow in the night. The sun shines today, but I imagine the roads will be rather difficult at least until midday.”
“Then perhaps… perhaps we stay the day? We can return tomorrow, and…” She sighed, actually setting down her toast. “Andrew, I feel as if this position is slipping through my fingers. I think we have to go, or at least, I should. I do not wish to drag you along against your will.” It was the delay she’d hoped for, but she did not feel entirely pleased about it.
“Drag? I am your husband, Sophie, for all intents and purposes. I go where you go.”
Her stomach toppled over itself yet again. She managed a nod. “If we stay, I can go in for work as well, and that will show him my dedication. If I perform well at his party, I may yet prove to him my worth on the project.”
“You need not prove yourself to anyone, Sophie,” Andrew said.
If only that were the singular issue. She worried that, in addition to watching this position slip through her fingers, she might be losing something else far more terrifying.
Her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Andrew had hoped to shirk his duties that day and spend it in Sophie’s company as much as possible, but his schedule would not allow it, especially when he needed to be gone the next day. At times, he felt she was beginning to care for him, but at other times, she seemed so despondent. Was it because of him? Or her work? He was beginning to detest Mr. Whitcomb, despite never having met him. The woman before him these last few days was not his Sophie. More often than not, her smile was replaced by a frown, her sparkling eyes by a faraway look. He would follow her to Durham even if only to ensure she smiled.
Between clients, he pulled out the half-finished letter to his solicitor, requesting the man pause the process of letting the home. For a week now, he was meant to sign the contract sent over, but he could not bring himself to do it. Was it really his dream to own an estate, or was that just an arbitrary goal he’d set himself? A way to prove his worth was as high as a firstborn son’s. The pride that had filled him at renting his own estate was nothing compared to the desire to care for Sophie.
He’d known it was likely, had honestly never really stopped, but it was clear now more than anything: he was in love with her.
His goals of getting ahead in life and making a name for himself were overshadowed by his new goal: gaining her affection and living a true marriage with her.
And he did not feel a jot of regret as he finished the letter and had it posted. Except in that he could not untangle himself from the bank today to get back to Sophie’s side.
Even with her ideas for streamlining his work, nothing could fix the mess that faced him. A meeting with the board, several high-profile clients, and deadlines for the accounting of many projects approaching kept him busy even through lunch. He’d hoped Sophie would still come for lunch, but she did not, and it was for the best anyhow. He needed the time to ensure he did not arrive late at home for the party.
He even hired a hackney for the short trip to hasten his movements.
“Spencer, is Mrs. Langford at home?” Andrew asked as he entered the home. Calling her that never ceased to amaze him, and tomorrow it would be true.
