Sophie clenched her hands in front of her. She could hardly imagine doing what her aunt had suggested. It sounded terrifying, when she was honest with herself. She would open herself up. That meant she could be hurt.
And she didn’t want that.
“I don’t know,” she breathed.
Louisa pushed to her feet at last and moved toward her. Her warm arms came around Sophie, and she squeezed gently. “I won’t force you, Sophie. I would never do that. But I’maskingyou to do this for me. Then if you decide to take the same path I have, at least I’ll be comfortable in the knowledge that you gave yourself every chance to understand what you might give up.”
Sophie sighed. If Louisa saw her as a daughter, she very much loved her aunt as a mother. And Louisa so rarely asked anything of her, and had kindly accepted her quirks over the years. To refuse her seemed the height of bad behavior. Besides, it was only a Season. She would please her aunt and have some good stories to tell in the end.
She didn’t have to change her mind about the ultimate path of her future, after all.
“Very well,” she said with a shuddering exhalation. “I will do as you ask, Aunt Louisa. I’ll say yes for a Season.”
Louisa’s face lit up, and it was all the reward Sophie ever could have asked for.
“Oh, Sophie, I’m so pleased!” Louisa practically danced away and she snatched up theScandal Sheetfrom the table as she moved toward the exit.
“What are you doing with that?” Sophie said with a laugh at her aunt’s giddiness, even if the cause made her nervous.
“I’m saving this,” Louisa explained. “In the hopes that when the Season is over, we’ll look back on this moment as a turning point in your life, my love. No matter what comes out of your agreement to say yes.”
Sophie watched with a smile as she left the room, paper in hand, but the expression fell when she was alone. Her decision to say no to everything had been one she made purposefully. Giving it up was a terrifying thought. As was the idea that saying yes might change her life forever.
Chapter Two
The Honorable Rowan Sinclair, third son of the Earl of Terrington, was in a foul mood as he stood in the study that had, up until six months before, been his father’s. Now that the official mourning period was over, his eldest brother, Alistair, had thrown himself fully into taking over. Including redecorating what had once been a warm and welcoming room and making it into a spectacle of showiness.
“You hardly wait a moment, do you?” Rowan growled, slugging back his glass of scotch in one gulp and eliciting a glare from both Alistair and their middle brother, Keaton. Alistair and Keaton had the same mother, the late earl’s first wife, and looked very much alike. Rowan’s mother was the second wife, the beloved wife, and he was dark where his brothers were light.
They hated him for it.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Alistair sniffed as he swirled his own scotch in his tumbler.
“A ball?” Rowan sneered. “Six months to the day of Father’s death?”
Keaton snorted as he paced to the window. “You are a sentimental fool, Rowan. The mourning period is over—why shouldn’t Alistair hold a ball to welcome the new Season and celebrate his ascension to the title?”
“I’ve waited long enough,” Alistair muttered.
Rowan set his jaw. His older brothers were older than him by almost two decades, nearly into their fifties. He supposed Alistairdidfeel like he’d waited long enough for his due. But the fact that neither seemed to feel anything for the man Rowan had loved so deeply made his stomach turn. He wanted to touch the black band he still wore to honor the late earl, but resisted. It felt like showing weakness to wolves.
“As much as I know you asked me here to keep up appearances, I’m certain there is more to it than merely having me take part in yourcelebrations,” Rowan said. “So what is it you want, Alistair?”
Alistair stopped swirling his drink and exchanged a look with Keaton that made Rowan’s back stiffen. They seemed so verysmug.
“I have spent the past six months going over Father’s finances,” Keaton said. “On behalf of our brother.”
Rowan let out a snort. “Ever the bootlicker you are, Keaton.”
Keaton’s face darkened to a deep plum and his fists tightened at his sides. “Watch yourself, boy.”
Rowan shrugged. “So you’ve been going over the finances. What does that have to do with me?”
Alistair arched a brow. “You think we don’t know about the allowance Father gave you each month? It’s how you live, isn’t it?”
Now it was Rowan’s turn to stiffen. His father gave him an allowance to help support his aspirations as a painter. His brothers didn’t know that. No one did.
“That allowance is not something you can touch,” he said. “It is a gift of inheritance by the earl. He told me many times it could not be altered.”
