Lord Finchley rotated in his seat. She watched his brows perch lower over his eyes when he noticed who had bid against him. His mouth settled into a firm line. “Twenty,” he called out.
“Thirty.”
Sophia’s face burned. She kept her gaze fixed ahead, but she could sense Lord Finchley’s frustration.
Stepfather craned his neck as he turned around. “Is that Mr. Ellington?” His whisper cracked with disbelief.
“Thirty-five,” Lord Finchley declared.
“Forty.”
There had only been a few paintings to surpass forty so far.
Lord Finchley exhaled sharply, dropping his hands in his lap. He shook his head, muttering something under his breath. “Forty-five.”
“Fifty.”
The auctioneer’s eyebrows lifted, but he was silent as he took the bids. Gasps rippled across every row. Sophia knew that the reaction was less about the price, and more about the war that was waging in front of them. Why would Isaac not stand down?
A bead of perspiration trickled down Lord Finchley’s temple. “Fifty-five.”
“Sixty.” Isaac’s voice was calm, as if he would carry on all day. Sophia didn’t doubt he would, no matter the attention he was drawing.
“This is absurd,” Lord Finchley muttered. He straightened his shoulders, giving a subtle shake of his head.
“Going once, going twice, sold!” The auctioneer made the declaration, but it was barely heard over the murmurs of the crowd. Their whispers clawed over Sophia’s skin, making her lightheaded. Polite applause followed, and Lord Finchley leaned toward her.
“If I hadn’t given it to him, he never would have stopped. Ridiculous.” The air from his harsh whispers brushed past her ear. He glanced behind him, offering a bow in Isaac’s direction, though she could tell it pained him to do so.
Sophia’s heart raced as she turned. She was the painter, after all. She would be expected to acknowledge the one who had purchased it.
As she had suspected, Isaac was seated near the back, on the very end of a row. His intense eyes connected with hers. She bowed quickly, then turned around. Considering how public her courtship with Lord Finchley had become, Isaac should not have outbid him. There were far too many ways the action could be perceived. There had been an obvious air of competition between the two men, and all the people in the room had witnessed it.
The whispers were fading, but they continued to beat through the air like tiny wings. Stepfather’s bewildered look shifted to a disgruntled frown. “What do you make of that, Sophia?” he asked in a quiet voice.
She had no idea.
The auction continued with the final six paintings. Sophia tapped the toe of her boot softly against the floor. Her emotions boiled beneath her skin, such a diverse mixture that she hardly knew what to feel. How dare Isaac steal Lord Finchley’s opportunity like that! He had embarrassed him in front of a large crowd of people. He had refused to bow out, even when the crowd had displayed their shock. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as the auction drew to a close and the guests began rising from their seats. She couldn’t speak to Isaac here. She couldn’t trust herself to act the part she was meant to play.
Lord Finchley shot up from his chair. He turned around, eyes flitting over the crowd like a bird over a field of mice. “Where has Mr. Ellington gone? I’d like to wish him my congratulations.” His voice was laced with bitterness.
Sophia surveyed the crowd, but Isaac wasn’t in the place she had seen him before. A wave of relief crashed over her. If LordFinchley were to ‘offer his congratulations’, there would be far too many people watching the interaction.
Lady Strathmore, who had been sitting on the row in front of Sophia, stepped around the benches. Her husband engaged Lord Finchley in conversation, giving Sophia a moment to breathe. Lady Strathmore’s bright turquoise gown was a perfect match for her eyes, which were round with shock. “Miss Hale! Your painting fetched quite a price. I knew it was extraordinary from the moment I first saw it.” She gave a coy smile. “Mr. Ellington clearly felt the same.”
Sophia’s heart sank. There was no mistaking the look on Lady Strathmore’s face. She was already making assumptions about a possible attachment. But unlike the others in attendance, she had further evidence. Lady Strathmore had witnessed the cashew incident and how Sophia had rushed to Isaac’s aid.
The audience mingled, but many gazes shifted in Sophia’s direction. She pretended not to notice the whispers, but her chest was tight with panic. She didn’t know whether Lord Finchley’s surrender would be viewed as well-mannered or cowardly. People might begin to question the sincerity of his intentions toward her or speculate about Isaac’s noble efforts to steal her attention from the earl.
“Cornwall is close to Mr. Ellington’s heart,” Sophia explained. “I imagine the painting reminded him of his old home.”
“I see.” Lady Strathmore nodded, but her lips were still pursed in that knowing smile. She would devour any drama she could find, adding ingredients of her own, mixing it into an elaborate delicacy to share with her friends.
Lady Strathmore moved on to a new conversation with Stepfather and Aunt Hester, leaving Sophia on the fringes. She wandered to the front of the gallery for a closer look at all thepaintings that had been purchased that day. Her nerves were on edge, and the study of brushstrokes on a canvas was a calm, quiet exercise that usually served to calm her. Her mind refused to stop racing, replaying the events of the auction over and over. She paced down the row, keeping her back turned to the rest of the room.
Rain pattered on the rooftop, adding to the chorus of loud chatter from all the attendees behind her. She had strayed a little too far from Aunt Hester and the others, but it was what she needed to calm her emotions.
A gentleman stepped up to study the painting beside her. Sophia’s heart thudded, a prickle of awareness spreading over her skin. It was Isaac. She knew it. His presence beside her had always been different from any other; her senses recognized him without sight or sound. Her body reacted to his nearness with a mixture of alarm and intrigue. She wanted to be angry.Furiouseven, that he had rivaled Lord Finchley so publicly. But the rage she had prepared herself to feel was quickly bottled up by his eyes as they landed on hers.
