Chapter Eighteen
Unless Christopher was mistaken, Sophia was flirting with him. Although the thought of it should be setting off a wave of panic, he was enjoying himself too much to care. Despite what she had been saying at the beginning of this amble around the paintings on display, he had seen the look of admiration in her eyes when she had looked at his body.
Seeing the boy in the first painting had thrown him slightly. The stranger really did look like Sebastian when he was younger, his head thrown back while he ran, the hint of a smile ready to burst wide. It was how Christopher remembered his brother and for a moment, he had ached with the need to talk to him one last time, not even over anything important. All he wanted was to hear his brother’s voice creating an adventure to help them both forget that their aunt was a nasty woman who would punish a small child for some minor infraction.
Sophia had listened, had truly heard what he had been saying. There was no expectation from her for him to turn his story into some great lark. Instead of letting the afternoon become too maudlin, she had made him laugh. She was a rare find amongst the Ton; someone utterly genuine and kind.
He had promised to help her win the affections of Robert and he would still do that if that was what she truly wanted. The man did not deserve her, and that was not just because he had squandered his opportunity with her, but because he was not worthy of her. She deserved someone who worshipped the ground she walked on and, as far as he knew, there was not a single man in the Ton who would do that. Robert would have to do, but only because that was what she wanted, and she deserved her heart’s desire even if the idea left Christopher with a sour taste in his mouth.
Really, Christopher should lead Sophia over to him now but he held off. Robert was still in the midst of a passionate discussion with Emily about the paintings, so it would be rude to interrupt them. He could prolong his interaction with Sophia for just a little longer, because there was one thing he had not considered when he had suggested this plan to her; he had not imagined there would come a time when he would enjoy spending time with her over anyone else and that one day soon that would come to an end.
When their betrothal was over, they would never be able to talk like this in a public place. Society would not expect them to remain friends. Once their engagement was over, that would be the end of their friendship. Sophia would be another person he had lost.
‘You have gone quiet,’ she said, squeezing his arm. ‘Have you been transported with rapture over this particular piece or have you fallen asleep on the inside?’
For one wild moment, he thought of telling her the truth. That he had been thinking about a time when they could not converse like this and how a small part of him would die. It was too dramatic, too much. She would likely be scared away or think that he was cracked in the head. ‘I was wondering how Emily and Mr Harber are still talking with such evident passion. The artist is clearly talented and hasskill far beyond my own, but I think those are all the words I could find to sum up how I feel about the exhibition.’
‘They do look more engaged than the rest of the patrons. Do you think she is being polite? I know how he gets when he is enthusiastic about a subject.’
‘Emily is very learned, far more scholarly than the rest of us Dashworths, and she is not good at the art of dissembling. She must be enjoying that discussion as much as he is, do not worry.’
‘You must not think that I find Robert boring,’ she rushed to reassure him, or perhaps herself. ‘I like that he has things which interest him.’
‘Of course.’ For the life of him, Christopher could not think of one thing he could talk about for an entire afternoon. His nieces didn’t count, neither did his brother’s wards, who were gradually becoming more like nephews to him as he got to know them better. The four of them were the only people he could think of whom he cared strongly about. Was he really that shallow? ‘What do you like to do in your spare time?’ he asked, hoping he was not the only one who could think of nothing.
‘I love to paint.’
‘You told me it was something you liked to do, when we were at Gunter’s, but I did not realise you had such a passion for it.’
‘I am no great artist.’ She gestured to the paintings surrounding them. ‘No one is going to fill a room with my amateur attempts, but yes, I enjoy it.’
‘You should meet my brother Freddie properly. He is an excellent artist.’ Edward was a talented musician and Tobias was diligent in his handling of the dukedom. It was only Christopher who had no special interest. Unless one counted thinking up a variety of ways to enjoy oneself, which he sincerely doubted anyone would think of as a talent.He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to stop himself from spiralling into panic. The Great Room in the Royal Academy was no place to have a crisis of confidence.
‘I would not call myself an artist. I merely enjoy it as a pastime. How about yourself?’
Damn it. He should have known she would ask this question. ‘You know me. I enjoy everything about life, but I have no talent to call my own. I am a disappointment in that sense.’
‘Why do youneeda talent? What is wrong with just being you? Because from where I am standing, you are pretty perfect in yourself.’
His heart did that strange tumbling it often did when he was around her and she said something that touched something deep within him. No one else had ever made him feel like she did, which was probably not a good thing for his future peace of mind. ‘No. I am not. I have wasted my life going from one scrape to another and I have little to show for my existence.’
‘You have lots of friends.’
‘I do not think that can count as an achievement.’
‘Then you do not know what it is like to live without them, to feel as if everyone is taking a step to the left, while you take one to the right and when you try to follow, you’re always half a step behind.’
‘Sophia…’ His heart hurt at her words and yet he wasn’t quite sure how to tell her that she didn’t need to feel like that. She fit in beautifully, if only she could see it for herself.
She shook her head. ‘I apologise. I did not mean to have an outburst in public. I just wanted you to know that you are special.’
He wasn’t. He was frivolous. It had never bothered him before, but looking over to the man Sophia wanted to marry, he couldn’t help but compare himself unfavourably to him. Robert might not be Christopher’s favourite person, but there was no denying he was aman of purpose. Christopher’s unease only grew worse when they caught up with Emily and Robert. Robert’s eyes were shining with happiness, which enhanced his angelic looks. The smile he bestowed on Sophia was positively beatific. Christopher’s stomach turned over, made worse when Emily began waxing lyrical about the depth of Robert’s knowledge. Sophia’s real choice of husband was both clever and handsome and probably going to persuade her to elope with him, which was, of course, what Christopher wanted, but also, at the same time, made him sick to his stomach.
‘Are you ready to depart?’ Mr Harber asked Sophia, and Christopher wanted to tell him that, no, she wasn’t and when she was, he would take her home. But of course, this was not his role to play. His path was to let these two people find a way to one another, so he stepped back, smiling as Sophia’s hand slipped from his arm even as his whole body ached with the loss of her touch. He continued to smile as Emily made plans for Sophia to come and take tea with her and Kate and he smiled when he said his farewells. He even managed to smile as she walked away, quickly disappearing from sight.
‘Why are you looking so odd?’ asked his sister-in-law as they made their way out of Somerset House.
‘I look the same as always.’
