Sophia laughed, but it sounded forced. She had never been very good at flirting, and she would surely become even worse at it with Isaac watching her every move—her every breath. She felt his gaze burning on her face.
“She does,” Isaac said.
Though Lord Finchley had asked the question, he didn’t seem to have expected such a sincere answer from Isaac. He had yet to fill his plate with sandwiches. All he had was a cup of lemonade, which rested on a saucer near his leg. Untouched.
Silence fell, and Sophia could feel a tangible tension in the air. She tried to appear unaffected, but her heart raced.
Lord Finchley’s shoulders straightened—just a subtle movement. “Mr. Ellington, Miss Hale told me that you are a close friend to her family. How did you become acquainted?” He took a sip of lemonade, his lips puckering as he swallowed. He scowled into the cup. “Hmm. Not enough sugar.”
Sophia held her breath. Would Isaac play along? She felt embarrassed that she had called him her friend. Friends did not go four years without speaking.
“It was eighteen-thirteen,” Isaac’s deep voice answered without hesitation. “Sophia’s family had just moved to Lanveneth House, which is a short walk from my grandfather’s estate in Cornwall. I had been living with him since my mother’s death.”
Sophia tried to appear as casual as possible as she listened, sipping on her sour lemonade. She remembered how her heart had ached for Isaac when she had learned that he was an orphan. His father had died shortly after he was born, and his mother had raised him alone on a small jointure. She had fallen ill and died the year before Sophia met Isaac. Sophia had been amazed by his strength and devotion to his grandfather, to his estate, and to the duties that awaited him. It had shocked her to learn that he hadn’t been back to Cornwall in years.
Isaac’s voice brought her back to the present. “Our proximity as neighbors made it impossible not to become friends.” His gaze settled on Sophia with a weight that trapped her breath in her lungs. “We spent a great deal of time together.”
A wave of yearning washed over her, but as it crashed, it melted into grief. Those had been the happiest days of her life. If she could, she would live them again a thousand times over. Her heart had been so open—like a rose in full bloom—but now it was tight and coiled like the bud Lord Finchley had given her.
There were no words to describe the freedom she had felt in Cornwall. The hope. Neither were there words to describe the madness, the wild abandon, and the bravery that had led her to fall in love for the first and only time. Back then, she had laughed more. She had explored coves and caves. She had undone her hair, throwing her bare face up to the sun, even dipping her feet in the sea. She had loved without holding back, without any conditions—and she had kissed Isaac without the fear of being caught.
She held his gaze for a long moment. She could see their history in his eyes like a living, breathing thing. It had survived for four years, and it would survive forever. That was the cruelest thing about the past. It never died. She could escape it with passing days and years, but she could never truly forget it.
Isaac didn’t seem to have forgotten it either. It was written all over his face.
Lord Finchley cleared his throat.
Sophia looked away from Isaac, her heart pounding.
“Well,Ihave never been to Cornwall myself,” Lord Finchley said. “But surely I will make a visit there in the near future.” His gaze shifted to Sophia.
Was he…hinting at their marriage?
Her throat was dry, so she drank more lemonade. She grimaced at the flavor.
“Perhaps you can meet Flora and Thistle,” Prudence said. She seemed to be slowly emerging from her dismal mood. “They are smaller than James and Ronald, but they are just as endearing.”
Lord Finchley grinned. “I would like that very much.”
Sophia shifted uncomfortably. She was running out of distractions. She had eaten half her plate, and her cup of lemonade was almost empty. She tried not to notice as Isaacpoured Aunt Hester another cup, filling her plate with each item she requested.
“I thought we might play a game.” Lord Finchley crossed his legs tightly in front of him, tucking them close to his body. He leaned forward until his back was rounded, and he looked like a ball.
Stepfather would say he looked like a woodlouse bug.
There was something about the position that gave Sophia a strong sense of aversion. She ignored it, as she had with the other aversions she had developed toward him during their courtship.Heavens, she couldn’t judge the man by the way he crossed his legs when he sat! But this had been her downfall for years now—finding the smallest flaws in men and allowing them to take root in her mind until they were impossible to ignore. Isaac had ruined her. He was still ruining her, because there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way he was sitting on the blanket, long legs stretched out in front of him.
“I do enjoy games,” Aunt Hester said, popping a raspberry tartlet into her mouth.
“Well, Mrs. Liddle, do you have any suggestions?” Lord Finchley asked.
Her eyes rounded. “Oh! It is to be my choice?” Her cheeks flushed, and she set her plate down on the blanket. Her lips settled into a firm line, her eyes reflecting deep thought behind her spectacles. She seemed to be taking the honor quite seriously. “I prefer friendly competitions over the more raucous sort.”
“I do agree.”
“Perhaps we might compete to see how well we know Miss Prudence,” she suggested, nodding toward her niece. “It is her birthday soon, after all. We might all make her feel rather special.”
Prudence’s eyebrows shot up with delight. This seemed to be Aunt Hester’s attempt at improving her mood. Prudence did enjoy being the center of attention.
