As he spoke, his grip on her hand tightened but she made no move to break free. Instead, eyes wide, she gazed up at him trustingly as each impassioned word brought him closer to her… closer and closer until their faces were but a handspan apart. He felt himself drawn inexorably towards her… so close that he felt her warm breath on his cheek, heard her rapid breathing… so very close…
A crash from the other end of the Great Gallery made them spring guiltily apart. One of the footmen had dropped a chair, and the other was loudly berating him.
Sophia jumped to her feet, and Simon sprang up too.
“Miss Merrington…”
“I must go,” she said at the same time, rather breathlessly. “Mama will be looking for me.”
And with a whisk of her skirts she was gone, leaving Simon trembling and distraught, angry with himself for his lack of restraint, but also yearning for the kiss that so nearly was.
9: A Winter Walk
Sophia fled. She cared not where she went, so long as it was far, far away from Mr Payne — the oh-so-dangerous Mr Payne, who had nearly kissed her! And she had nearly let him! What on earth was the matter with her? Surely she knew better than to allow herself to be drawn into such scandalous behaviour? She was eight and twenty, for heaven’s sake, not some green girl fresh from the schoolroom.
Instinctively, she avoided the busy parts of the house for she was not sure she could sit and serenely make idle conversation when her heart was still racing and she could scarcely catch her breath. Eventually, she found herself at the far end of one of Marshfields’ satellite wings, where a window with a cushioned seat and a concealing curtain offered a respite. She curled up there, looking out at the wintry sky, the snowy grounds and, just below her, the roof of the orangery. Lights showing through the roof windows and the glow of a brazier suggested that the duke was enjoying his own sanctuary from the crowds. At least he waswarm! She pulled her shawl more tightly around her, glad of its thick, woollen comfort.
For some time she tried to make sense of her feelings. She was not outraged by Mr Payne’s presumption, as she might have been with another man — as she had been when that slimy fellow with the yellow teeth had tried to press himself upon her at a card party in Norwich once. She had made the mistake of going alone to the ladies’ retiring room, and had found him lurking in the corridor outside when she emerged, and not so much as a servant in sight to call upon to render her aid. She had managed to push him away, and fled back to the drawing room, but then she had been angry and complained to Mama about it.
She was not angry now! If she were to be honest with herself, her strongest feeling was disappointment. She should have liked to be kissed by a man whom she wanted to kiss. It was difficult to say precisely why she wanted to kiss him, but she was quite sure that she did, and that it would be a pleasant experience.
Was she in love with Mr Payne? In all honesty, it was not a question she could answer satisfactorily. He was very good looking, of course, and an imposing figure of a man — tall and broad of chest. He looked too large to be an artist, which was an odd thought, for why should artistic talent be confined to the small and delicate of frame? Perhaps it was his eyes which drew her most? They were dark, but clear and bright, and filled with an amused twinkle when he talked to her. Or was it his hands, with their slender fingers, wielding a pencil so masterfully?
She sighed. It was hard to say. All she knew was that she liked him, and she had wanted him to kiss her. Still wanted that, to be truthful. Their abrupt sundering left everything dangling, like unfinished business.
Yes, she would definitely like to kiss him.
After a while, when the cold had begun to seep into her bones, she reluctantly made her way to her own wing of thehouse to see if she could find Mama. She discovered her in her usual chair near the fire, embroidery frame in hand, but her companion today was not one of the other matrons.
Lord Daniel! That was a good sign… surely?
“Oh!” she said, startled.
“Miss Merrington. Good day to you,” he cried, jumping to his feet with a wide smile. “I trust you have not suffered any indisposition after your exertions on the dance floor last night.”
“No… thank you… how kind in you to enquire. I am quite well. And you, sir?”
He chuckled. “Never better, I assure you. I enjoyed our dances very much, so I came to enquire…” Another nervous laugh. “As I have already said. Um… your mama has been telling me all about your new home at Staineybank.”
“Do sit down, Sophia,” Mama said brightly. “Lord Daniel will bring forward another chair, I am sure.”
“Oh… of course, ma’am… certainly.”
He rushed about doing her bidding, and sat with them for another half hour, at least, although Sophia was so well entertained that she forgot to watch the clock. Mr Payne was driven entirely from her thoughts, as well as any lingering disappointment after the ball. Lord Daniel had danced with her twice, and now here he was, enquiring after her, doing the pretty…courtingher! For what else could it be, this deliberate seeking out of her company?
Inside her was a little thrill of anticipation. Perhaps, just perhaps, something might come of this? For the first time in years, she felt a quiver of hope.
***
Simon sat motionless in the Great Gallery, his breathing ragged. What on earth was he doing? However much Julietmight urge him towards Miss Merrington, however much they needed her dowry to stave off utter penury, it was impossible when he had no estate, no fortune, no income at all. Her brother would, quite rightly, send him to the rightabout. And yet… he liked her. He liked her very well indeed.
The maids had long since finished scrubbing the floor, and the last of the footmen disappeared, too. Perhaps it was the servants’ dinner hour and the guests were too indolent to stir from their firesides, for there was not a soul about. Simon rose and paced across the room, his footsteps echoing hollowly in the high-ceilinged room.
He executed a few steps of the cotillion as he went, smiling as he remembered. She was so light on her feet! How delightful to watch her dance her way through the evening, to see her shining eyes and heightened complexion, her wide smiles. She loved to dance, and he had loved to watch her, to imagine her feelings as she whirled and pirouetted.
Never before had he wondered what it might be like to be someone else. He had always been wrapped up in his own concerns, never giving a moment’s thought to anyone else, not even Juliet. But then she had always bent herself to accommodate his wishes. Sophia was different, an independent being who gave no thought to him, and why should she, when he had nothing to offer her? Yet she fascinated him, and he wanted to know everything about her. What did she feel? Of what did she dream?
He had some answers to those questions now. She dreamt of a husband, her own house, children at her feet. She dreamt of the position in society that only marriage could give her. Oh, if only he could oblige her! How delightful that would be! He would not even mind the inevitable children, if they had Sophia’s softly curling brown hair and creamy skin. How adorable they would be, miniature versions of their lovely mama.
