“Did you hear about the lovely pond that we found while hunting this morning?” the baron asked Sophie.
She nodded. “I did hear mention of it.”
“It was quite large,” the baron continued enthusiastically. “Not much smaller than a modest lake. According to Trevor, it’s actually on Bigsby's land rather than the earl’s, and that’s why I haven’t seen it before. Bigsby has graciously agreed to let us make use of his property for the duration of the house party.”
Bigsby was probably ecstatic at the idea of making so many high society connections. Perhaps Nicholas should be more charitable, but he remembered how the man had looked at Sophie.
The baron kept his gaze on Sophie. “There were wildflowers growing in the area and a small jetty with a rowboat. We didn’t have time to take the boat out, but I’d love to go back there. Perhaps you could accompany me sometime?”
“If the spot is that scenic, maybe a group outing is an order,” Nicholas suggested, earning a glare from the usually sunny baron.
“What a lovely idea!” Lady Carlisle exclaimed. “I’m not much for walking, but I’m sure the younger members of the party would enjoy that.”
Trevor, who was seated beside the baron, cleared his throat. “The pond is home to a fascinating species of water lily not found in many other places. We’re lucky to have such a prime example of that particularNymphaeasubspecies so close to home.”
“How intriguing.” To Sophie’s credit, she looked as though she meant it. “Do you study water lilies, my lord?”
Trevor glanced around, apparently realizing belatedly that several pairs of eyes were now on him. He colored. “Oh, no. I couldn’t claim to be a scholar. I’m simply a hobbyist.”
“Don’t be so humble, Trev,” Baron Sylvestor said. Turning to Sophie, he added, “He’s published several academic treatises in the area of botany, although he tends to specialize in the species that we cultivate for food.”
Trevor ducked his head as if embarrassed by his accomplishments. “It’s a trifling matter.”
“It’s very impressive,” Nicholas said, though he hated to agree with the baron on any matter. “I doubt anyone else at this table has published an academic treatise.”
“I certainly have not.” Sophie laughed. “And you, Baron Sylvestor? Are you secretly an academic?”
“Alas, I couldn’t possibly claim to be so.” The baron grinned to himself, obviously pleased to be teased by the woman he was pursuing.
It grated, and Nicholas wasn’t even sure why.
“What is your area of interest, then?” Nicholas asked, unable to help himself. “Do you participate in the arts or consider yourself a hunter or a rider?”
“No.” He didn’t seem ashamed to admit it, damn it all. “I’m afraid that all I’m good at is managing my family’s lands and gadding about town. I’m quite useless, really.”
Sophie glared at Nicholas before sending the baron a warm smile. “You are not. There’s nothing wrong with not having some kind of higher calling. I enjoy many hobbies, but I’m not proficient enough at any of them to impress a true expert.”
Nicholas opened his mouth to argue that Sophie was a woman and therefore given fewer opportunities to earn acclaim, so she could hardly compare her situation to the baron’s but then clapped it shut. She already knew this and was trying to make him feel better. She wouldn’t appreciate Nicholas’s interference.
After dinner, they all retreated to the earl’s largest drawing room to play charades. Nicholas sat in the back corner, certain that he would enjoy the entertainment, but he had no urge to insert himself into the heart of the game.
Lord and Lady Wembley began, working together to act out a waltz. It was an easy one to start with, and BaronSylvestor gleefully shouted out, “The Waltz” before anyone else had a chance.
He took their place in front of the guests, drew a slip of paper, and grimaced. Tilting his head up, he stared at the ceiling for a long moment before angling himself toward Sophie. He mimed opening a bottle and drinking, then lying down. He got back up and theatrically—overdramatically, in Nicholas’s opinion—pretended to find the body and stab himself in the chest.
“Romeo and Juliet,” Sophie cried, clapping delightedly.
The baron bowed, still grinning ridiculously. How could anyone be that smiley all the time? Nicholas liked to think he was a fun-loving man, but Sylvestor took everything a step further.
“You’re correct, my lady,” Baron Sylvestor said. “I knew you would recognize a scene from such a romantic love story.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes. Anyone would recognize that scene.Romeo and Julietwas one of Shakespeare’s most famous works.
And as for romance, what was romantic about two people killing themselves over a misunderstanding?
Perhaps he was jaded because he’d seen what had happened to Theo and Elizabeth when their love had fallen apart, but there was nothing romantic about suffering.
No, romance was in the everyday moments. The small touches and secret smiles. The quiet contentment with their lot in life.
