Sophia slipped inside the front door of Lanveneth, creeping up the staircase to her bedchamber. Her wind-tossed hair would need mending before dinner. As would her ridiculous grin.
Isaac loved his secrets.
She fell back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling as she replayed his words over and over again. He hadn’t said it in perfectly clear terms, but she had plenty of reason to believe that a proposal was coming. He hadn’t confessed as much, but she suspected that he had spoken to her father that day. If the result had been disappointing, Isaac would have been in a far sourer mood. Therefore, she could only hope for the best. How could she banish her smile after that?
Her maid, Louisa, combed the knots from her golden-brown hair and arranged it neatly before Sophia made her way downstairs to the dining room. Mama, Papa, and her younger sister Prudence were already waiting at the table.
“Good evening.” Sophia sat down with a little too much flourish. She softened her smile so as to not appear as giddy as she felt. Her parents had expressed their disapproval at her meeting Isaac alone. If she didn’t hide her emotions, they would suspect where she had just been.
Prudence cast a knowing smile in Sophia’s direction before taking a bite of potatoes from her plate.
Sophia met Papa’s gaze. Perhaps if she looked hard enough, she could read the details of the conversation that had occurred between he and Isaac that day. Papa’s eyes were clear and blue, framed with dark eyebrows that sloped downward on the edges. There were times he looked sad when he was not, and times he looked sad when he actually was. She hardly knew how to tell a difference, even after nearly two decades in his company.
He was more silent than usual tonight, his expression stoic and distant.
Perhaps he was sworn to secrecy, because Papa didn’t breathe a word about his conversation with Isaac. Not at dinner, not in the drawing room, and not as he bid Sophia goodnight. It was all right. Sophia liked surprises, and Isaac did enjoy surprising her. She had no doubt he would propose to her the next day, perhaps when they met to watch the sunrise.
When she went to bed that night, she dreamed of wild things—happy things she had no business dreaming of or deserving. A life in Cornwall with Isaac—hosting parties and dancing and swimming and raising children. She had never dreamed of London. That was Mama’s dream, not hers.
When the first streaks of light split the clouds, she put on her cloak and half boots and sneaked out the front door. The walk to her and Isaac’s meeting place was short. The earliest birds made their music in the sky, swooping down over the choppy sea below the cliffs. Wind snatched at her hair and skirts, bitingher nose with cold. Isaac was usually there first, but today, she had beat him. She waited until the sun climbed over the clouds and the sea sparkled with morning light, but Isaac never came.
Had something delayed him?
She sat beside a patch of pink sea thrift and dangled her feet off the edge of the jagged cliff until Louisa’s cap and dark curls appeared above the crest of the path beside her.
The maid breathed heavily as she reached Sophia, resting one hand on her hip. “Yer father wishes to speak with ye, miss. Make haste back to the house.”
It was startling that Louisa knew where to find her, but she agreed with a brief nod. Scrambling to her feet, she followed the maid back to Lanveneth House.
“In here, miss.” Louisa stepped aside as Sophia approached the polished walnut door to Papa’s study. Usually, she found him sitting behind his desk with a pipe and a pile of ledgers. But when she opened the door, his desk had been cleared off, and he was working on filling a nearby box with every last scrap of paper.
He looked up at her entrance, his quick movements slowing down for a brief moment. His downturned eyes looked heavier today, underscored by dark grey circles. There was a strain behind his features that made her pause in the doorway.
“Sophia, sit.” He gestured at the chair across from his desk. “Please sit.”
She brushed the loose strands of hair behind her ears, a nervous flutter entering her stomach. Something was amiss, to be sure. Papa was never so urgent. His calm demeanor had been a source of steadiness in her life, something that could be relied upon. Her insides swirled with nerves until he finally set down his papers and sat across from her.
“We are leaving Cornwall today. Since you were not in your room this morning, Louisa has packed most of your things already.”
“What?” Sophia struggled to speak, her throat too dry. “Papa—what on earth do you mean? We cannot leave so suddenly?—”
“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter, my dear. Your mother and I have already made our decision. We are removing to London without further argument.” Papa’s words were choppy, broken up by his rapid breathing.
“Papa!” Sophia stood, shaking her head. “What is so urgent about going to London? I thought we were staying here another fortnight.”
“That was the plan, yes, but we have decided an early arrival will allow you to better prepare for the Season. You may feel better situated at our London address before the crowds arrive.”
“I don’t wish to go to London!” Sophia corrected her panicked tone by clearing her throat. “I thought you knew that—I thought you spoke with Mr. Ellington yesterday.”
Papa’s eyes finally lifted to hers before flickering away. A slow exhale escaped his chest. “My conversation with Mr. Ellington has been heavy on my mind since yesterday. I haven’t had the heart to tell you the nature of it.”
Sophia swallowed. When she had seen Isaac the day before, he had refused to tell her the details as well. He had been playful and mysterious though—as he always was—taking any excuse to flirt with her and tease her. She hadn’t thought anything negative of it. In fact, she had hoped for the best.
Her throat was dry, but she managed to speak a few words. “Tell me now, Papa. Please.”
He crossed his arms. Without the rustling of all his papers, the room fell into eerie silence. “He came to me requesting yourhand in marriage, and I gave my approval. However, when we came to the subject of your dowry, he found it insufficient. He confessed that he was expecting more.” Papa’s voice echoed in Sophia’s ears. “I do not trust that his motivation for courting you was ever sincere.”
Sophia scowled, dread sinking through her stomach. “That cannot be true. Isaac is not motivated by money as other men are.”
