Sophia’s eyes widened with panic. Why the thought of playing for the host terrified her, she could not say. Only that she did not wish to do it.
Gabriel shrugged. “I am not the one you must ask.”
Mr. Jones scoffed. “But I am asking you. If you tell your wife to play, she will do it. Come on then!” he cheered.
“Gabriel…” Sophia whispered out the corner of her mouth. He glanced at her, and her expression was pleading.
“I don’t think so,” Gabriel said. “Perhaps another time.”
“Oh, come now,” Mr. Jones groaned and finally looked at Sophia. “Your Grace, will you please do us the honor of playing? We would love to hear it.”
“No, thank you,” she said politely.
“No?” Mr. Jones balked. “Why on earth not?”
“I am not in the mood.”
“Well, I suggest you get in the mood.” Mr. Jones looked around the party and waved for some of the guests to get closer. “We wish to hear you play! All that I have heard of you, it would be an honor.”
Times were that Sophia would have known that she had no choice. Was her mother here, she likely would have been forced to already. But Sophia was hesitant to do as was expected, and after a week of playing how she wished, she worried what might happen if she played again in front of a crowd. Which side of her would come out…
“I am quite fine,” she said softly, looking down at her chest.
“No,” Mr. Jons huffed. “I do not…” He scrunched his face. “I am disappointed, Your Grace. I have known your husband for some time, you know, so when I heard he was wed, I expected it to be to someone more…” He curled his lips. “More enjoyable.” He was swaying noticeably. “She does not drink. She does not play. She hardly talks!” He laughed. “Tell me, what do you do, exactly? Not much, from what I can see.”
Sophia was mortified, and it became worse as she noticed the snickers and laughter rolling across the crowd. Her cheeks turned red, her body withdrew, and she very nearly turned and fled as if her life depended on it.
“You are lucky we are in public,” Gabriel said darkly as he stepped between them both. “If we were not, Mr. Jones, the sound of your bones breaking would be the next sound heard. No need for a performance from my wife with the noises that would make.”
Mr. Jones balked. “Your Grace, I was only –”
“Do not say you were joking,” he snarled as he leaned over Mr. Jones. “Jokes are supposed to be funny, even clever. You, however, have the whit of a bore, with the looks to match.” Around them, people gasped, and more laughed. “You see,” Gabriel said. “That is how one tells a joke.”
“I… that is not…” Mr. Jones was shaking. “All I asked was for your wife –”
“To do something she does not wish to do.” Suddenly, he took Sophia’s hand and as their skin touched she felt a warmth ripple up her arm that wrapped her like a blanket in winter. She felt safe, suddenly, like she had not known was possible. “She said no, that is her answer, and I would expect you to respect it.”
Mr. Jones snorted. “I had no idea she was so particular.”
Gabriel stiffened. He snarled. He looked as if he meant to kill Mr. Jones where he stood. The only thing that stopped him, or so Sophia assumed, was the crowd of onlookers.
“We are done,” Gabriel said to him. “This party. Us. We are done.” With that, he turned and stormed away, pulling Sophia with him.
“Done?” Mr. Jones cried after him. “What do you mean? Done? Your Grace! Come back!”
“I am proud of you,” Gabriel said as he led her through the home, past the guests who hurried out of the way.
“Wh – what?” she stammered, her heart racing, still not entirely sure what had happened.
“For standing up for yourself,” he said. “For doing what you wanted, not what you were told.” He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “It’s exactly what I would expect from you.”
“I don’t care what you expect,” she said with a coy smile.
He laughed. “Exactly.”
They reached the front door where a butler hurriedly opened it. Behind them, Mr. Jones chased, crying out for them the stop. He threw in a few insults too, warnings that this would be heard of by all.
“And your wife!” he cried. “I’ll have it known how she insulted me!”
