With the matter settled, the two men exchanged a brief handshake, and Philip rose from his seat, his heart alight with anticipation.
After leaving the Earls office Philip followed the soft strains of a familiar melody drifted down the corridor, drawing Philip to a halt just outside the open parlor door. His hand hovered near the frame, but he did not announce himself. Instead, he stood still, listening.
Sophia was at the pianoforte, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration, her fingers gliding over the keys with newfound confidence. He recognized the piece immediately—it was the one she had labored over during their early meetings, the one she had always paused halfway through with an apologetic smile. But now, each note flowed effortlessly into the next, the music blooming with elegance and grace.
When the final chord lingered in the air, Philip stepped forward, unable to hold back the smile tugging at his lips.
"It was beautiful," he said softly.
Sophia turned, startled, then blushed as she stood. "Philip—I didn't realize anyone was listening."
"I couldn't help it," he said, crossing the room toward her. "I've heard you practicing that piece all season. And now—" He gave a soft shake of his head. "You played it perfectly."
She laughed lightly, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. "I wasn't sure I ever would."
He stepped closer still, his voice quiet but certain. "Sophia, from the very first time I saw you—at your debut ball—I was enthralled. I asked to court you hoping only to know you better. And every day since has been a blessing I could never have imagined."
Her breath caught, her eyes widening.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, velvet-covered box, opening it to reveal a delicate ring. "I cannot imagine my future without you beside me. Will you marry me Sophia?"
For a heartbeat, Sophia said nothing—just stared at him with wide, glistening eyes, her hand lightly resting on the edge of the pianoforte as though it steadied her.
Then she smiled. Not the practiced kind she wore at society events, but something soft and radiant, blooming from within.
"I was so nervous at that ball," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "And then you asked me to dance... and suddenly the room didn't feel quite so overwhelming."
Philip's lips curved gently, his heart hammering in his chest.
"I hoped you'd ask to call," she continued, rising from the pianoforte bench. She took the few steps that separated them. "And when you did... I thought, perhaps, I might be falling. I just didn't expect it to happen so quickly—or so completely."
She looked at him, her eyes full of warmth. "Yes, Philip I will marry you. I would be honored to be your wife."
Relief and joy flooded him all at once, and he reached for her hand, slipping the ring gently onto her finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had always belonged there.
He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
"You've made me the happiest man in all of England."
Sophia's smile trembled, radiant and full of wonder.
"I never imagined I could feel this happy," she whispered. "Some part of me worries I'll wake and find it was all a dream."
He drew her into his arms.
"Then I'll spend every day making sure you know it's real."
Chapter Six
Charlotte had not left her chambers in three days.
Her maid no longer asked if she would be coming down for meals.
The trays that once brimmed with effort had grown simpler with each passing day — now modest, practical... and untouched.
This morning's offering brought something new.
A folded copy ofThe Daily Regency Gazetterested atop the tray's linen — still, silent, and as dangerous as a snake poised to strike.
