“Friends it is, Mr. Kingsley.” It would be easier to speak such words with utter sincerity if her heart did not thump a staccato against her ribs at the touch of his hand. Rolling her eyes inwardly, Sophie cringed away from her silly behavior.
Silly Little Sophie, indeed. Her brother would forever mock her if he knew she fairly swooned over a touch.
Chapter 10
“Now, you must tell me what your plans are for your drawings,” said Mr. Kingsley, his posture relaxing once more as she returned to her work.
“Plans?”
“You’ve spoken with such enthusiasm about naturalism in all its forms and are collecting drawings of various subjects if the thickness of your sketch journal is any indication,” he said, nodding at the book on her lap. “It appears to me you are working towards something important.”
Sophie cast a look at him but forced herself to keep her eyes trained on her subject; that was far safer. “It is only for my own amusement.”
Silence met that for a moment, and Sophie wondered what had the gentleman so pensive. Then he spoke with a tone filled with admiration. “So, you do it for the love of the thing.”
“You sound surprised at that.”
Mr. Kingsley sat upright and plucked a blade of grass, rubbing it between his fingers. “So many care about fame and fortune. Or prestige. They are not content with merely being a partaker; they must be a leader. It is admirable to see someone who finds joy in a thing regardless of whether or not she receives any praise or recognition for her efforts.”
Being seized by a fit of honesty, Sophie smiled at her painting and replied, “You give me too much credit, sir. A love of freedom is as much a motivator as my passion for nature. It is not untoward for a young lady to spend hours alone pursuing such interests nowadays, so rather than being shackled to my mother’s side, my studies provide a means by which to escape.”
The gentleman stilled, and though Sophie refused to look up from her work, she felt his gaze on her.
“I was delighted to meet your sister last night.” It was the first subject that flew into Sophie’s mind, and she latched onto it. “Lily is exactly as you described her.”
“You remember that?” A glance in Mr. Kingsley’s direction showed an expression to mirror his surprised tone.
Sophie chided herself for being so forthright and hurried to cover the fact that she had thought of Mr. Kingsley and their evening together many times.
“It is impossible to forget such enthusiasm,” she said, mimicking his earlier words.
Mr. Kingsley broke into a grin. “Lily can be a pest at times, mind you, but I adore her.”
“Any self-respecting little sister is a pest at times. It is a requirement of the position.”
“Spoken like a true little sister,” he replied with a laugh.
“I do my best, though I fear my brothers do not enjoy the requisite annoyances as you do.” She’d meant it to be a lighthearted reply, but Mr. Kingsley was silent. It was several moments before he spoke again.
“Are you mistreated?”
Sophie gave a start, her eyes flying to Mr. Kingsley. “Not at all. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”
The tightness in his shoulders eased, and Mr. Kingsley picked at the blades of grass in his hands. “There is a sadness to your voice when you speak of your family, and I feared the worst.”
Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Sophie turned back to her work.
“They do care for me in their way…” Sophie was uncertain how to describe it. “However, I often feel like a stranger among them. Not unwanted per se, but…”
She searched for the word. “Misunderstood.”
Shrugging it off, she focused on her sketch. “I would not have you thinking I am miserable. My family may think my hobbies are silly and meaningless, but still, my parents allow me the freedom to pursue them.” Giving a false chuckle, she added, “Though I believe Mama allows it because she doesn’t know what to do with me, and it is easier to leave me be.”
What had possessed her to say such a thing? Sophie’s hands paused, her whole body stilling as she stared sightlessly at her painting.
“Miss Banfield…” Mr. Kingsley began to speak. His tone was so gentle and warm, and Sophie knew she ought not to have said such a thing.
Setting aside her paintbrush, Sophie held up the painting, examining it this way and that. “I suppose it will have to do for now, and we are expected back at the house.”
