She felt Lord Finchley watching her, waiting for her to declare the winner. “Mr. Ellington is right.” Sophia swallowed. “I would choose autumn.”
Aunt Hester gasped, applauding with rapture. “What a thorough explanation, Mr. Ellington. I am quite impressed.”
Lord Finchley’s jaw clenched for a moment, and he took a large gulp from his cup. “Thorough, indeed.” He smiled—a little too broadly—and motioned toward Mrs. Liddle. “Someone pose the next question.”
The abrupt demand made Sophia’s skin crawl with discomfort. It was obvious that Isaac had awoken Lord Finchley’s competitive nature.
Isaac popped an entire cucumber sandwich in his mouth, casually inhibiting his ability to speak. He leaned back on his hands, and for the first time all afternoon, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
Sophia snapped the tension in two. “There is no need to continue the game.”
“We must.” Lord Finchley’s brow furrowed. “I have a question. If Miss Hale had to give up tea, playing the pianoforte, or dancing for a month, which would she choose?”
Aunt Hester answered first. “Of the three, I think she would choose to give up dancing. As I understand it, she views it as more of a social obligation than a form of recreation.”
Sophia looked down at the blanket in dismay. All her faults would be exposed to Lord Finchley before the day was out. She had given him the impression that shelikeddancing. There were few people in the world who knew how she truly felt about the activity.
Prudence stifled a laugh. “Yes. She would be quite glad not to dance for an entire month.”
Lord Finchley’s legs sprung out from their tight position. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Well, then. I didn’t know my question would be so easy to answer.”
“I only dislike dancing because it doesn’t come easily to me,” Sophia blurted. She took another sip of lemonade from her cup to hide her face from view.
“I think she would give up the pianoforte.” Isaac’s voice drifted through the air. “Practicing her music consumes several hours of her day, but I suspect she would rather spend that time painting. I do agree that she would readily give up dancing. She has never been particularly fond of tea either, so giving that up wouldn’t cause her great distress.” He paused, casting his gaze at the pitcher at the center of the blanket. “Although she doesn’t dislike it as heartily as she does lemonade. She hates anything flavored with lemons, in fact.”
Sophia’s eyes widened. Her cup was just a few inches from her lips. She had been forcing the lemonade down her throat out of politeness, but the bitter, sour flavor had been slowly making her ill.
Isaac’s mouth flickered with a smile, but his eyes were serious. Anger surged in her chest. What was he trying to prove? He seemed to be trying to outperform Lord Finchley by any means necessary, even at Sophia’s expense.
Now Lord Finchley would know that she had only pretended to like dancing and pretended to like his lemonade. She felt like afool for accusing Isaac of pretending to like things he didn’t. She was just as guilty.
Silence lingered for several seconds, until Lord Finchley finally broke it. “You may only choose one of the three.” His gaze was firm as he looked across the blanket at Isaac. “What is your final answer?”
Isaac didn’t blink. “The pianoforte.”
Lord Finchley’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing in reply. “I must go with the general consensus…that she would give up dancing.”
Sophia refused to grant another point to Isaac, though she knew in her heart that his answer was correct. She had been dutifully practicing her music for hours every day for as long as she could remember. Her mother had taught her to be prepared if she were ever called upon to perform. But she didn’t love it. If she had those hours back, she would have created dozens of paintings instead, just as Isaac had guessed.
Her anger simmered steadily inside her. It was vexing that he knew her so well.The only purpose it served was to make Lord Finchley feel inferior.
She composed herself with a breath. “Three of you are correct.” She lifted her chin. “I would choose to give up dancing.”
“Hah!” Lord Finchley clapped his hands together in one swift motion. “I knew it!” He tucked his legs close to his body again. “Who would like to ask the next question?”
Prudence raised a hand. “If Sophia could choose one person to be trapped in a carriage with during a rainstorm, who would it be?” The sly smile that followed gave the question a scandalous edge. Even Aunt Hester wasn’t oblivious to it. Her lips parted, eyes round.
“What is the matter?” Prudence brushed a small bug off the edge of the blanket before lifting her sharp green eyes to Sophia’s face. “I should like to think you would choose me. Wenever have any shortage of entertaining conversation.” She gave an innocent smile, as if that would erase the sly one she had presented before. “That is my guess.”
Aunt Hester lifted her forefinger. “She would surely choose her stepfather, for he could keep her thoroughly entertained with facts about every species that has ever set foot on the earth.”
Sophia laughed, relieved that the tone of the question had changed.
Her heart pounded as she awaited the next two responses. She prayed that neither of the two men would be bold enough to claim themselves as her chosen companion.
Isaac and Lord Finchley seemed to be locked in a stalemate, neither one saying a word. Perhaps they were both considering being just as bold as she feared. In the silence, she listened to her pulse rushing past her ears. Her bonnet trapped heat against her head, making her cheeks flush hotter.
After what felt like an eternity, Lord Finchley leaned forward, gazing into her eyes for just long enough to make her uncomfortable. She gave a shaky smile.
