She must have made some movement that gave away her desire, because Lord Frederick lifted the seat next to him and pulled out a sketchbook and a pencil. ‘Would you like to…?’ He held them out to her.
Her skin heated; she hadn’t realised her scrutiny of the interior had been that obvious. ‘Thank you, but I had best not. Mama would be furious if I ruined these gloves before I arrived.’ Actually, her mother probably wouldn’t notice; she would be too wrapped up in the excitement of the evening. But Sophia didn’t want to get grey pencil on them, no matter how much she might want to draw.
‘A good point,’ said Freddie, popping the book back into its hiding place, and her neck ached with the restraint it took not to lean forward to see what else was in there. The idea of having paper and pencil lying about just in case one needed it while on a journey was also incredible to her. She had one pencil and a set of paints and she had to make sure she locked them away in case they went missing. ‘But should you ever be in the carriage and at a loss as to what to do, please feel free to use them.’
Christopher grunted, but as Sophia could not see what Freddie had said that he could object to, she thought she may have misheard. Or… perhaps not. Sophia caught the flicker of Freddie’s lips and Lady Emily’s discreet smile, before the countess turned to look out of the window. For a moment, she pondered the meaning behind the words, and as it slowly dawned on her what Freddie might be implying, her skin began to burn even hotter than before. He was suggesting, perhaps, that she might be bored on a journey with Christopher, indicating, maybe, that there were other things Christopher and she might do alone together in an enclosed, private space. Shewasinnocent. She had never kissed a man before. But she did have some idea of what passed between a man and a woman. Mama wasn’t a stickler when it came to matters like that and believed her daughters shouldn’t live in ignorance. Marrisa had worked out some of the other details, although Sophia did not want to know how. It meant her imagination could picture what Freddie might be inferring and… and she wasn’t as horrified as she should be.
Turning her head away from them all, she stared out at London as they passed through it. She wasn’t seeing the houses but Christopher’s mouth. It had been so close to hers when they had stood together in the Blue Lounge and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what it would have felt like if he had placed it on hers or if his fingers had not stopped at only tucking a strand of her hair away but had travelled instead down the length of her neck.
Sophia of a few months ago would have been shocked by her thoughts, but she was not so naive as to not know what she was feeling towards her fake betrothed. She could not deny her physical attraction to the man. The way her heart leapt about in her chest whenever she caught sight of Christopher had been part of the reason not to go through with Robert’s proposal, if you could call it that without an actual offer of marriage. She did not fool herself that what she was feeling for Christopher was love. Everyone had an infatuation whenthey were young. Her sisters were always falling in and out of some grand passion, so it was hardly surprising that she had finally succumbed to the feeling herself. With his long fingers and wide shoulders Christopher was pleasing to the eye and she was, undoubtedly, not the first woman to have her head turned by him. Although they had yet to come up with a way to end their betrothal, she knew that she had little time left to be with him. She would not waste it. For now, she would enjoy every moment presented to her, including this journey.
Taking a deep breath to shore up her bravery, she turned to the countess. ‘How is your daughter, Lady Blackmore?’
‘As we are to be family, you must call me Emily and my husband, Freddie.’ She gestured to her husband, who nodded amicably. ‘A word of warning though, do not call Edward, Teddy, unless he is in a particularly good mood. Only our niece is allowed such privileges, although he is equally enamoured with our daughter and I am sure she will be able to get away with it as well when she is of an age to talk. But as to your original question, Arabella is well, thank you.’
Ignoring the pang of guilt at Emily’s reference to them becoming family, Sophia said, ‘How old is Arabella?’
‘She is almost three months old.’ The love shining out of Emily’s eyes was almost painful to look at. In giving up a future with Robert, Sophia may have given up the opportunity to have a baby of her own. But it would not have been right to have one with Robert, not when she had not loved their father in the right way. The way that Freddie and Emily clearly adored one another. ‘She still has not learned how to sleep through the night, so we are exhausted all the time. Our niece, Lotte, adores her and is constantly trying to help us look after her. It is both adorable and stressful.’
‘I should love to see them together,’ Sophia said without thinking through the consequences.
‘Of course. Come and spend longer with us than just for afternoon tea. Kate and I will introduce you to all the children. That way you will know what you are getting into before you end up living with us.’
Sophia forced herself to keep smiling, even as her heart cracked a little. She would never live with this woman, never get to see her children grow up, or more children added to the family. That shouldn’t matter, because they hardly knew one another, but for some reason the idea made her ache with sadness. ‘I should like that very much,’ she said, knowing she would have to turn the offer down when the formal invitation arrived. Adding heartbreak over losing friends when her engagement ended was foolish in the extreme; it was best their connection didn’t develop that far.
‘Christopher showed us your drawings of the bear-man,’ Emily continued, unaware of Sophia’s inner turmoil. ‘You are exceptionally talented.’
‘You are kind to say so.’
‘Actually, she is rather blunt,’ said Christopher. ‘If she tells you that you are good at something, you should believe it.’
‘Blunt is a harsh word. I prefer truthful.’ The two men grinned and it was as if a large pressure were being applied to Sophia’s chest. She wanted more than anything to be part of this group, to understand the inside jokes and to have some of her own with them even as she knew it was not to be. ‘I did not used to be this way,’ Emily told her. ‘But I have found it is better to speak the truth in life, than spend time regretting that you did not.’
Emily appeared to be addressing this last remark to Christopher, but from his small frown, it did not look as if he understood what she was getting at. In all her dealings with Christopher, Sophia did notthink that he was someone who shied away from the truth anyway, so Emily’s remark being pointed at him did not make sense.
‘Christopher showed us your painting of the boy,’ said Freddie softly. ‘It was truly remarkable how much it looks like Sebastian.’
‘Indeed,’ agreed Christopher. ‘All of us are quite taken with it, although as it was a gift to me, I have claimed ownership. Tobias has tasked me with asking you if you would be able to paint another one. He would recompense you accordingly.’
‘Oh, I… it would be my pleasure and I would not need any payment.’
Christopher shook his head. ‘A talent like yours is worthy of being treated properly. I believe Tobias would like a far bigger painting to be displayed in our entrance hall. It would take you some considerable time, should you agree to it.’
Sophia was lost for words. The idea that the duke would want to display one of her paintings in such a prominent position was quite astonishing. That he would pay her for her efforts was equally as extraordinary. Luckily, their arrival at the Albrighton residence saved her from having to say anything and the moment was lost in dismounting from the carriage.
It was hard to catch her breath in the entrance hall. Guests pressed in on her from every side; the feathers from one lady’s headdress tickled her nose and she held back a sneeze, tilting away. They shuffled forward, but as everyone jostled to get in prime position, Sophia was pushed. She stumbled slightly and might have fallen except Christopher’s hands came to her waist, holding her steady. His quick inhale and the warmth of his skin cutting through the silk of her dress sent her mind blank. She tilted her head, breathing in the scent of his cologne. His thumb brushed over her hip, a soft, delicate touch that shot through her like a flame. Their gazes locked and held and the restof the packed hallway fell away. It was as if, in that brief instant, only the two of them existed.
The woman with the plumes on her hat moved again; this time feathers hit Christopher in the side of the face. His eyes went comically wide and Sophia giggled, the intensity of the moment fading away.
‘Do you think we should snap those things off?’ whispered Christopher. ‘We would be doing the rest of the guests a favour.’
Her snort of unladylike laughter was fortunately swallowed up by the chattering mass. ‘If you thought our being compromised was a scandal, it will be nothing compared to damaging Lady Goodwin’s hairpiece. Not even being related to the Duke of Glanmore will save you from total ruination.’
His responding laugh warmed her soul.
The crowd shifted and he dropped his hands from her waist. Before she could miss his touch, he tucked her close to him, protecting her from being pushed about by the horde of people. She could feel the warmth of his whole body down his side and she wanted to slow down their progress to the main room so she could enjoy it for longer. But presently their arrival in the ballroom was announced and once they were talking to friends, there was really no need to keep holding on to him.
Chapter Twenty-three
