Marianne giggled and took the bonnet from her. “I’m beginning to think that you’re a bad influence, my lady.”
“Please, call me Sophie.” After all, if Sophie was to call her Marianne, then it wouldn’t do to insist on formality in return.
Marianne made her purchase, and they lingered until everyone had finished, then walked together to the shoemaker next door. The local seamstress’s shop followed, and by then they were all weary, so they retreated to a teahouse.
While the proprietor brought them tea and scones, Lady Carlisle sat beside Sophie and leaned close.
“I’m glad you’ve befriended Miss Bloombury,” she murmured, softly enough not to be overheard by those at the table with them. “I’ve noticed you keeping to yourself while we’ve been here, and that’s unlike you.”
Sophie frowned. She hadn’t realized she was doing that, but she supposed she had spent most of her time with Nicholas, the baron, or her mother. Usually, she would socialize with Kate, but Kate wasn’t here to mingle with her, so she was on her own.
“She seems very sweet,” Sophie replied quietly. “I like her.”
“That’s good, dear.”
They enjoyed scones fresh from the oven and slathered with jam. Sophie also risked her mother’s ire and ordered a piece of shortbread, which practically melted in her mouth.
After their refreshments, they explored Horncastle for awhile longer and returned home with an hour to retire and rest before luncheon.
Sophie had gotten rather warm during their visit to town, so she changed into another day dress and swapped out her walking shoes for prettier ones that were suited to remaining indoors.
She settled on her bed, intending to rest for a while, but every time she closed her eyes, she recalled how Nicholas had kissed her so passionately last night. Heat pooled beneath her belly.
He’d touched her as if she were precious. He’d agreed to wed her—something she’d never dared to believe would happen—but what if, in the cool light of day, he’d had second thoughts?
What if he no longer wanted to marry her?
With a groan of frustration, she realized she was never going to be able to nap while worried about how a few hours of sleep might have changed Nicholas’s perspective. Reluctantly, she left the room and searched the drawing rooms first before eventually finding Nicholas in the library.
He was on a sofa, slouched over a sketchbook. There was a gray smudge on his chin and a pencil clasped in his free hand. He glanced up and, seeing her, smiled sheepishly.
“What are you doing?” She asked, padding across the floor toward him.
He angled the sketchbook toward her. “Kate is teaching me how to draw, so I was practicing.”
She halted in front of him and studied the pencil sketch. He’d drawn a stack of books arranged artfully on a desk in front of a window. It wasn’t the most impressive sketch she’d ever seen, but she could tell what it was, and everything looked to be in proportion.
“Very nice.”
He laughed and closed the book. “I’m no artist, but it’s fun, and I need something to fill my days.”
“I know what you mean.” She spent far more time sitting around Carlisle House than she would like. Perhaps after they were married, they could occupy themselves outdoors, riding their horses in the sun and mapping out his family’s estate on foot.
He cocked his head, looking at her curiously. “Are you all right?”
She shifted her weight, suddenly self-conscious about her purpose in coming here. “I just wanted to check and make sure you haven’t changed your mind about anything.”
His expression softened. “I haven’t. Have you been worried?”
Now, it was her turn to feel sheepish. “Maybe a little.”
He patted the cushion beside him. “Come here.”
She went to him and sat.
He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I won’t change my mind about you.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she whispered, emotion swelling in her chest.
