Seeing her now, it was difficult to remember the reasons. Especially when he knew Theo wouldn’t begrudge him for proposing to her.
At least, not until their mother disowned them both.
The baron said something, and Sophie tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Nicholas wanted to barrel over there and rescue her from what was obviously not a particularly enjoyable conversation, but if he did that, it would make a scene, and she would be even angrier with him.
Instead, he hovered behind the hedgerow until they passed by, then he hurried after them, keeping his distance until they parted ways in the manor’s foyer.
As soon as Sophie was alone, he rushed over to her and touched her shoulder. She turned, her cheeks pink, but her eyes were flat, containing none of their usual sparkle.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” he said, although he wasn’t sure whether he was apologizing for kissing her or for not making an offer of marriage. He’d done many wrong things, and she was too unpredictable for him to guess what had upset her most.
She tilted her chin up defiantly. “Please go. Leave me be.”
Beside her, Betsy narrowed her eyes at Nicholas, giving him the impression that she knew exactly what had happened between them.
“Are you all right?” he asked, starting to reach for her before withdrawing his hand. “You seemed upset by whatever you and the baron were discussing.”
Her nostrils flared. “That’s none of your concern.”
His chest tightened, a sense of panic swelling within him.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
He wasn’t supposed to lose her.
“We’re still friends, if nothing else. I’m here for you.”
She jerked her head violently to the side. “I need time before I can be your friend again.”
His limbs went weak and pressure continued to build in his chest. “But, Sophie, I—” He cut himself off. If she needed distance, then who was he to force his presence upon her? “I’m sorry. Please excuse me.”
He strode away without much sense of where he was going. It was only once he found himself back at his guest bedroom that he became aware of his surroundings at all.
He let himself in and retrieved the small flask of brandy he’d stored inside one of the cabinets. He poured a finger of it into a glass and gulped it down. The liquor burned his throat and warmed his writhing insides in a way that wasn’t entirely pleasant.
He poured another but sipped this one more slowly, afraid he might throw it up if he didn’t take his time. Perhaps he ought to get soused.
No, as tempting as that might be, he was less likely to be careful and might do or say something that would upset his mother if it ever got back to her. He had to tread cautiously.
Not that anything was new there. Healwayshad to be careful, even when he was getting blind drunk or losing his inhibitions on the racecourse.
He could never just be completely in the moment. If he did, he risked making one of the many, many mistakes he was famous for and outing the big family secret.
So instead, he moped about the bedroom until dinner, where he was seated opposite Sophie.
She ignored him, avoiding his gaze as much as possible and bestowed all of her pretty smiles on that charming fucking bastard Sylvestor.
After dinner, Lady Wembley decided to show off thetalents of her niece by asking her to play dance music on the piano. This gave the guests a chance to stretch their legs and work off some of the heavy meal they’d just eaten.
Baron Sylvestor rose gracefully from his chair and offered Sophie his hand. To Nicholas’s consternation, she took it and accompanied him to the end of the room, which had been cleared for the occasion.
Fortunately, the dance was a fast-paced one without many opportunities for them to gaze romantically into each other’s eyes.
Unfortunately, there were still plenty of times when Baron Sylvestor’s hands brushed the curves of Sophie’s body as if they belonged to him.
With each and every instance of contact, the tension in Nicholas’s muscles grew tauter and a knot in his stomach tightened. A red haze descended over his vision, and he drank his wine too quickly and almost choked on it.
The dance seemed to drag on forever.
