It was nearly time to meet Sophie, so he checked his reflection, gathered his hair and tied it neatly at the nape of his neck, and made sure he was wearing shoes that he could sneak about in without attracting too much attention.
He stealthily picked his way along the corridors, weaving through the manor until he reached the library. Sophie stood just inside, examining one of the books from the nearest shelf. She set it down, and he gathered her in his arms, breathing her in and feeling at peace for the first time since he’d held her in Wembley’s office.
“Nicholas,” she murmured, smiling softly up at him. “I missed you.”
He kissed her pretty pink lips and reluctantly released her. “I missed you too.”
It hadn’t been long, but with things so new between them, it had felt like an age.
He kissed her again, unable to help himself.
She giggled and smiled into the kiss. “Not that I don’t enjoy this, but is there a reason you asked to meet, other than kissing?”
He moved away from her, checking that the door was firmly shut and the curtains drawn before replying. “I received a letter from Theodore today.” He explained the content of the letter and flopped onto one of the comfortable reading chairs. “I believe Theo will be reasonable, which is good, since I have my own stipend but depend on his continued goodwill to live in Blackwell House.”
Sophie’s eyebrows knitted together. “Kate and Theodore would never make you leave.”
Nicholas knew that—or at least, was reasonably confident of it—but when his mother was in a temper over something, one could never be certain of anything, especially when both he and Theo had gone to lengths to pacify her in the past.
“What do you think she will do when she gets here?” Sophie asked, her skirts swishing gently as she paced from the chair to the curtains and back again.
“There are several options.” Nicholas wasn’t sure which of them was most likely. “She could insist I leave at once and try to send me away to molder in the country.”
“Or?”
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to recall how his mother had reacted to bad news in the past. “Or she might pretend she has orchestrated this entire thing from the beginning and that it’s all gone exactly as she planned. In that case, she would probably try to whisk us off to the country to marry quietly with no one around to see the likeness between me and Theo.”
Sophie stopped in front of him and picked at a loose thread on the bodice of her dress. “I don’t know Lady Blackwell as well as you do. Is there a situation in which she would try to prevent our marriage?”
“Possibly,” he acknowledged. “But this whole drama has come about because she doesn’t want to be ostracized by her peers, and encouraging me to end an engagement with a woman such as yourself—who most would be delighted to add to the family—might do just as much damage to her reputation as the truth coming out. Or at least, it would be enough to make her think twice.”
“Well, at least that’s something.”
Nicholas gestured for her to come over to him and, when she drew near, clasped her hand between both of his. “I am marrying you, love. No matter what my mother says. I won’t cast you off.”
Her eyes shone, and she blinked rapidly, as if holding back tears. “I don’t want her to resent me if we’re going to be family.”
Nor did Nicholas, but he suspected there was no escaping it.
He rested his head against the back of the chair. “I wish there were some way we could just avoid this whole thing.”
Silence fell.
Not a contemplative silence but the type that happened when someone was holding something back.
He straightened. “What is it?”
Sophie nibbled on her lower lip. “Maybe we can.”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitated for a moment. “I mean that perhaps we could move up the elopement we planned for the end of the house party and leave before she gets here.”
He cocked his head. “You want us to run? Wouldn’t that be cowardly and attract more attention?”
She lowered herself onto the arm of the chair. “I’m suggesting that we make a strategic retreat and plan how best to approach her upon our return when the wedding is afait accompli. We could do that at Blackwell Hall, where we wouldn’t need to worry about the gossips of theton.”
“But if she turned up here to find we were gone, it would only cause more talk.”
