She raised her chin defiantly. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I never intended to do that, and I feel terrible about giving you misguided hope. My only defense is that I didn’t realize Mr. Blackwell was sincere in his attentions.”
That wasn’t quite the truth, but it was close enough.
“However,” she went on, not prepared to let him make her feel more guilty than she ought to. “You and I have no formal understanding, so it’s not your place to weigh in on my arrangements with anyone else.”
At that, his jaw clenched even further. Surely his teeth would crack at any moment.
“I do know of at least one other woman at this house party who would gladly wed you, and there are many others back in London.”
His brow furrowed, and he cocked his head. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Sophie bit her lip, debating how much to say. She didn’twant to betray her new friend’s confidence, but she was afraid that Marianne was too reticent to say anything to him herself, and she truly thought there was the potential for a good marriage between them. They were both so good-natured.
“Suffice it to say that there is another unmarried lady at Nunhaven—one who is pretty and sweet—who would be open to your suit.”
He blinked, staring into the distance, perhaps mentally running through the guests. When he refocused on her, there was a strange look in his eyes. “Are you referring to Miss Bloombury?”
“I’ve said all that I can.” Let him take it from there if he wanted to. “I would like to return to the manor now, please.”
He was a decent man, so Sophie was certain he’d only thought of getting her alone so that they could talk properly, but the effect was that he’d trapped her with him on the pond with no way out other than diving into the water if he didn’t row her back.
It wasn’t unreasonable of him to question the change in her, and, while he was frustrated, he wasn’t displaying much of a temper, so she wasn’t desperate enough to swim to safety, but she also would prefer to escape the awkwardness of this situation as soon as possible.
The baron flopped back, rocking the boat wildly. “I’m afraid it would be best if we take our time. If we return too quickly, rumors might start about us having had a disagreement and we hardly need more cause for gossip.”
“Then we’ll walk slowly.” She watched him carefully, looking for any sign that his temper might show itself.
“Fine. If you insist.” He maneuvered himself upright and reached for the oars. “Just remember that I’m trying to protect you as well as myself.”
“I know.” Her voice was small. She felt quite chastened. She’d never meant to lead him on, but that was the endresult, and it made her feel like one of the sharper society misses she’d never liked.
He rowed the boat over to the side of the pond, then clambered over the front and guided it more fully onto the shore. When he offered her his hand, she took it, and he helped her onto the stones without wetting her feet.
“Is all well?” Betsy asked, rising from the seat, her gaze flitting between them.
“Yes, of course,” Sophie lied.
The walk back to Nunhaven Manor was excruciating. Neither of them seemed to know what to talk about. Sophie rested the parasol on her shoulder and was glad for Betsy’s steady presence at her side.
When they reached the manor, Baron Sylvestor bowed to her and stalked around the side of the building, heading to rejoin the others in the garden. Sophie, on the other hand, made her way inside. She needed a tall glass of water and a moment to herself.
She asked Betsy to arrange for water to be brought to her bedchamber and then dismissed her. She wouldn’t be doing anything that she’d need a chaperone for.
Unfortunately, she’d only gone a few steps down the corridor when a door swung inward, and someone grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.
CHAPTER 24
Nicholas backedSophie against the door and drank in her startled gasp. His pulse pounded in his temples and at the base of his throat.
He tasted her lips, reveling in the way she melted against the door as it clicked shut and surrendered her mouth for him to plunder.
He’d been going insane since she’d walked away with Sylvestor.
Logically, he’d known that nothing could happen between them with Betsy in tow and that, even if the maid hadn’t been there, Sophie’s heart belonged to him. But it had still been difficult to sit there and say nothing as his future wife went gallivanting off with another man.
He slipped his tongue between her lips. Honey and heat. Delicious.
He needed to remind himself that she was his.
