Isaac’s smile spread across his entire face now. “A servant locked the door. The height of the window was too great to escape through, so I slept under the desk.”
A laugh escaped her. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I was,” he said amid a chuckle. “I hoped a servant would unlock the door the next morning, but it was Finchley himself. Thankfully, I was still hidden, but I was trapped in my hiding place until he finished his morning additions to his ledger.”
Sophia covered her mouth. “And he didn’t see you?”
Isaac shook his head. “He was preoccupied. Did you know he sings while he manages his finances?”
She snorted as she burst into laughter. “You were on the floor at his feet while he…sang to his ledger?”
“I rather liked to think he was singing tome, but yes.”
She wiped at the corner of her eye as she laughed, and Isaac’s quiet laughter sank through her, settling somewhere deep in her chest. She never wanted to forget the sound again. She never wanted to be parted from it.
She felt the softness of his gaze on her face. A spiral of nerves erupted in her stomach, and she looked down at the floor. Why was she so blasted nervous? It was because she knew, without a doubt, that if she told him what she had written to Lord Finchley that day, he would kiss her senseless. And nothing could prepare her for that.
Her heart leaped violently, and she jolted toward the door. “Well. I should take my leave. My mother will wonder where I have gone.”
“I’ll walk with you. I have to ensure you don’t stand too close to the cliffs.” She could hear the smile in his voice from behind her.
He had always accused her of doing that.
She relented, allowing him to lead her out the front door and into the fresh sea air. The sun had faded completely below the horizon now, leaving just a few streaks of light behind. The sky was pink and peach where it touched the water, but the rest of it was dark. There was just enough light to see the path in front of them, but the vibrancy of the wildflowers was shadowed by the night.
They walked in silence for a moment. Sophia listened to the sounds of the dirt under their feet, the rustling wind and crashing of the waves below. She had never imagined she would ever walk that path again with Isaac, yet here they were, walking side by side, but not hand in hand as they once did. Propriety did not thrive here like it did in London. It was beaten down and weathered, just like the rocks, the old mines, and the miners themselves. Sophia was a different person in the unkempt wilderness of Cornwall than she was in a London ballroom. Perhaps this version of herself was braver.
“What did you do with my painting?” she asked. She had been curious ever since the auction but had been too afraid to bring up the subject. She dared to look up at Isaac’s face as they walked. She could barely see his face above the brim of her bonnet.
“I hung it on the wall in my drawing room in London. Temporarily, of course. I plan to take it with me wherever I live.” He cast a soft smile in her direction. “Perhaps I’ll even remain here. At least until the smuggling is under control. Maybe longer.”
“You would stay in Cornwall?”
He hesitated but nodded. “Spending the day at Morvoren made me realize that it wasn’t the house that kept me away, or even the memory of my grandfather’s death.” His eyes met hers. “It was always you. But now that I know you didn’t write me that letter…” he exhaled slowly, a pinch on his forehead. “My thoughts haven’t shifted from the subject since we made the discovery. I only wish the discovery hadn’t come too late.”
Sophia’s heart pounded. The path became smoother as they approached Lanveneth. Only a few of the windows glowed with candlelight as the final tendrils of daylight faded. She couldn’t think clearly with Isaac standing so close. She was only a few feet away from the house now—she could still escape if she wanted to and save her confessions for another time when she felt more prepared.
Her heart beat wildly, but she forced herself to speak. “I only accepted Lord Finchley’s proposal because I was certain you would hurt me again.” Her voice shook. “My stepfather warned me of your reputation, and then I met Miss Baker on a walk with Prudence. She—she told me everything that happened between you.”
Isaac stopped walking.
His features tightened as he stepped closer, until his hands found both of hers. His fingers were soft and warm, familiar and safe. A shiver raced across the length of both her arms, meeting in the middle of her shoulder blades. “I came to London determined to marry,” he said. “I thought if I tried dearly enough, I could fall in love. The only reason I couldn’t marry Miss Baker was because she was notyou.”
Sophia listened, her heart thudding in her chest.
“I regret my treatment of her, but she deserves to be married to someone who loves her—who treasures her and thinks of no one but her. I could not give her that.” He lifted one of Sophia’s hands, placing it against his chest. She felt his heart beatingbeneath his shirt. “You consume my thoughts, Sophia. You consume my heart. You are the only woman I have ever loved. That is why I couldn’t bring myself to propose to Miss Baker. That is why I fought Lord Finchley for you. And Iwillcontinue to, if you tell me that I have any hope.”
She stared at her fingers against his shirt. Her breath caught in her lungs, and a reckless idea stole through her mind. She didn’t want to tell him anything. She wanted to show him in a way that would leave him with little doubt.
Before she could question the wisdom of her idea, she rose on her toes and pulled his head down to hers. She pressed her lips to his, briskly and without thought—her lack of practice quite evident. She pulled away fast, her heart racing.
What had she been thinking? Isaac’s eyes were heavy with shock, and for a moment, she was frozen, staring up at him.
But then his hands took her waist firmly, tugging her back toward him.
His mouth found hers again, deliberate and insistent. His kiss was just as she had remembered it: devastating. Her eyelids collapsed, her legs melting as his arms surrounded her. Every thought fled her mind besides the one that told her that Isaac was kissing her, and how very unfair it was that she had been robbed of so many years of this. Isaac seemed determined to make up the lost time, though. His lips parted hers again and again, his hands surrounding her face now, his fingers buried in her hair. A sigh escaped the back of her throat.
She wanted to continue kissing him, but there was still more she wanted to say. She pulled away just enough to look in his eyes. His hands were warm against her face, cradling her jaw as he gazed down at her.
