In what he had painted, Rowan saw his own eyes, his own jaw. He saw everything his father had been, heard the voice he loved so dearly echo in his ears. Still there, but perhaps not remembered as perfectly as it once had been.
“It’s for you if you’d like it,” he said softly. “If it does not hurt you too much to see it.”
She pivoted toward him, her eyes bright with tears and her face lit with a smile. “I love it as I loved him. Of course I would want to have it. It is a treasure.”
She leaned up to kiss his cheek and then wiped her eyes as she moved away from the picture. “And what is your latest project?” she asked, moving to pull the tarp from the painting he’d been working on when she entered.
“No!” he cried, stepped forward to stay her hand gently. “I-I am not ready for that one to be seen.”
She faced him with a look of concern, and then she nodded. “Very well, love. Now come, I have a few details I’d like to discuss about tomorrow with your butler, and I feel more comfortable if you are there to approve or disapprove my arrangements.”
He followed her from the room, but couldn’t help his backward glance at the painting he had not revealed to her. Not yet. Not to anyone.
Because showing what he had created on canvas would reveal what he’d written on his own heart. And he wasn’t ready for that.
Sophie smoothed her skirt after she stepped from her aunt’s carriage onto the circular drive at Rowan’s estate. She looked up at the home with interest. She had never been here before. Truth be told, she wasn’t certain she wanted to be here now. In his home? That felt like enemy territory.
Which was ridiculous. This was a test, that was all. One she just simply had to pass. There was nothing else to it.
Louisa smiled as she stepped down beside her, and the two women linked arms as they came up the steps to be greeted by Rowan’s butler. The man led them inside and took their wraps and hats and gloves, then guided them through twisting halls.
Sophie drank in the surroundings as they walked. It was not a large home, but it was beautifully appointed. She was especially impressed by the large number of paintings that adorned the walls. Landscapes and portraits, as well as scenes. She didn’t recognize the artist, but she longed to stop and look at the details.
Those thoughts fled her mind when the butler took them through a parlor and an open set of French doors that led to Rowan’s garden.
“Lady Louisa and Lady Sophie,” he announced. Everyone turned, and Sophie’s gaze swept over them. She knew all in attendance, of course. Lords and ladies she had interacted with almost all her life. Some she’d count as friends, but in this moment she saw none of them. Not really. They were all blank faces until her eyes found Rowan.
He stood near the terrace wall, dressed impeccably, looking as beautiful as he ever had. And he was staring straight at her, his hand gripped in a fist at his side, his expression impossible to read.
Her heart dropped into her stomach, her toes curled in her slippers, and suddenly her mouth felt dry as a desert.
“Louisa!” Sophie jolted as Rowan’s mother, the Countess of Terrington, appeared from what felt like nowhere and embraced her aunt briefly.
“Darling, you are beautiful,” Louisa said, reaching up to touch the black fabric of the countess’s mourning gown. “How are you holding up?”
Lady Terrington smiled, and Sophie saw the sadness in the expression. “As best I can. It helps to have friends near. Sophie, you are lovely as always.”
Sophie reached out to squeeze the other lady’s hand. She knew Lady Terrington only peripherally, as a friend of Louisa’s, but she’d always liked the countess.
Of course, now she found herself wondering if the lady would be so kind and welcoming if she knew the wanton surrender Sophie had given into in the greenhouse with Rowan.
“Come say hello, dearest,” Lady Terrington said, motioning past Sophie’s shoulder.
Sophie stiffened, not ready to turn around. Rowan was there, she could feel him even if she didn’t see him. She was keyed in now to his presence, the weight of him when he was near. The smell on the air, the way her body reacted. Damn him.
“Ladies,” Rowan’s deep voice said as he stepped up to his mother and forced himself into Sophie’s line of sight. “Welcome. So nice to see you both.”
Louisa moved forward first, taking Rowan’s hands as she said something to him. Sophie had no idea what it was, for she was too lost in that moment in Rowan’s bright eyes. They held hers even as he talked to Louisa. Sophie stared at how his mouth moved. That wicked mouth that could do such wicked things.
“Sophie?”
She blinked as she realized Louisa was speaking to her. “I-I’m sorry. I was woolgathering,” she stammered as heat flooded her cheeks.
“Rowan was just asking if you would like a drink,” Lady Terrington said with a gracious smile. “Our cook has created a marvelous punch for this warm day.”
“Certainly,” Sophie said with a quick glance at Rowan.
He bowed solicitously and then moved into the crowd to find their refreshment. Louisa and Lady Terrington began to talk again, and Sophie drew her first full breath as she took a step away to gather her composure.
