Baron Sylvestor walked her to her bedchamber door and bowed deeply. “Sleep well, my lady, and feel better.”
Her lips wobbled as she tried to smile, but her insides twisted uncomfortably. It didn’t feel right to sneak around behind his back when he’d been so kind to her. She was repaying his honor with deceit, and it left a bad taste in her mouth.
But she refused to lose her chance with Nicholas, so she wished him a good night, entered the bedchamber, and closed the door, then checked the time. She’d wait for five minutes before re-emerging.
However, only two minutes had passed when there was a soft knock on the door.
CHAPTER 19
You’re being a damn fool.
He knew that. He felt it deep in his soul. But he still couldn’t make himself turn and walk away.
The door opened inward, and Sophie appeared in the gap, still wearing the dress she’d been in at dinner.
“Sorry about that,” she said softly, her gaze darting down the corridor as if to check that no one could see him standing outside her room.
It was dangerous.
Sodangerous.
Why was it happening here, again?
“The baron saw me slip away, and the only excuse I could think of was that I was feeling ill,” she continued.
“I understand.”
When he’d first seen them together, part of him had wanted to tear her away from the other man and insist on escorting her to her bedchamber himself, but doing so would have caused all sorts of problems they’d have had to deal with later.
“May I come in?” he asked. The longer he lingered in the corridor, the more likely it was that they’d be seen.
She put one of her hands on her hip. “Only if you’re confident that you can ensure you aren’t caught or that you’re willing to marry me.”
A rush of adrenaline flooded him at the idea of being “forced” to marry her. His mother would go on a rampage, and Theo would probably be upset with him—because of the scandal and mistreatment of Sophie, not the marriage itself. He’d find himself trussed up in front of the altar and tied to the most fascinating woman he’d ever met.
Somehow, despite the issue with his mother, he didn’t hate the idea.
Maybe he even liked the prospect of having the choice taken out of his hands. But Sophie deserved better than that, so he considered her words carefully. He’d been forced to sneak out of bedchambers before, and he’d not yet been caught, so he trusted that he could do it again if necessary.
She swayed closer, her floral scent tickling his nostrils, making it difficult to think clearly.
“Agreed,” he said eventually.
She opened the door wider and moved aside to let him in. Once he was inside, she closed the door and locked it.
“Speak quietly,” she said, crossing to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. “I’m not sure how well sound travels in this part of the manor.”
He padded toward her, eying the bed, debating whether to sit on it or if that would be inviting trouble. In the end, he dragged over a chair, placed it a few feet in front of her, and lowered himself onto it. He rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned forward.
“So.” She blinked rapidly, her eyelashes fluttering, but not in a way that was designed to be coy. “I must marry. I… I like you, Nicholas. A lot. I would gladly marry you. But as I said, this connection between us must end if you can’t offer me a commitment.”
Her spine was straight, her chin high. Damn, he admired her courage.
He corralled his whirling thoughts and drew in a deep breath. Holding her gaze, he knew somehow that he would be content to stare into her eyes forever.
“I care for you deeply,” he admitted, enjoying the way her lips curved into a slight smile. “But there are two reasons why I don’t believe I can marry you.”
Her face fell, and his stomach plummeted in response. He hated disappointing her, but he had to be honest.
