Mr. Kingsley’s brow furrowed, and a hint of disappointment entered his gaze at her diversion, but for all their claims of friendship, Sophie knew it was better this way. As much as her heart wanted to pour out its troubles to him, it was not her place to lay that burden on him. Mr. Kingsley was a kind gentleman, and she would enjoy their time together, but there was nothing more to it.
Shoulders dropping, he nodded at her as he assisted her in cleaning up her tools. “Your painting is finer than you give yourself credit for.”
“You are being kind.”
“You are being short-sighted.”
Sophie rose to her feet, brushing off her skirt and apron. “I suppose we shall just have to agree to disagree in this instance.”
But Mr. Kingsley met that with a challenging raise of his brows. “If you think I intend to listen to you denigrate your talent, you are very mistaken. I shan’t allow you to speak of my friend in such a manner.”
Grabbing the strap of her satchel, Sophie lifted it, but Mr. Kingsley took it from her before she could rest it on her shoulder. With a gallant bow, he motioned in the direction of Hardington Hall, and Sophie caught herself before she took his arm. Though she could use the uneven ground as an excuse to hold tight to him, Sophie knew better than to allow herself such closeness.
They were friends. Nothing more. That was enough.
***
London was no mere seasonal stay for Victoria. She’d been born in that indomitable city, and excepting visits to her family and friends’ country seats, she rarely left Town. To her thinking, there was nothing finer than the bright blaze of streetlamps aglow in the evening fog or a tour of the Park with all of society stuffed into that patch of green. The buildings loomed up with impressive heights, cradling the people traversing its streets like a kindly nursemaid. And the country felt empty by comparison.
That was not to say she disliked these jaunts to the countryside. The fields around the Nelsons’ home stretched out in all directions, and there was no denying the beauty before her. The sky above was as blue as she’d ever seen, and the few clouds dotting it were unspoiled puffs of cotton. The grass glowed with an unearthly green, and the view was the definition of picturesque.
But their party had chosen a spot on a particularly fine hill to take their luncheon, and from this vantage, Victoria could not spy the village proper or any other sign of civilization, and there was something so lonely about it. As though they were the last vestiges of humanity in this vast swath of green, which was rather unsettling to her thinking.
“It is so wonderful to have you here,” said Phyllis as she came to stand beside Victoria. “I did miss you all terribly. To think you were all off having fun in London without me. I don’t know if I will ever forgive Mama and Papa for forgoing the Season this year.”
“And I missed you,” replied Victoria.
“We were positively lost without our font of all secrets,” added Hettie with a smile.
Phyllis gave them an arched brow. “You needn’t pretty it up for my sake. I know I am a notorious gossip. I cannot help it if I find myself privy to juicy little tidbits, and it is only fair that I share my bounty.”
Victoria laughed. “How so?”
“Is it right for me to deny others the joy of knowing all? That would be selfish,” replied Phyllis with an indignant sniff.
“You are a goose,” replied Victoria.
“But that is why we adore you,” added Hettie.
Phyllis fairly preened before turning them away from the view to spy on the others. “Now, do you wish to know who has his eye on our little Miss Miriam?”
Victoria straightened, her gaze darting towards her sister, who was holding court alongside Miss Essie Dosett. The bachelors were gathered around the girls, who flirted and laughed with all the natural grace their young age and lack of experience allowed them.
“Please say it is Julius,” murmured Victoria.
“I might be honored that you hope it is my brother if it weren’t for the fact that he is the only one in attendance near her age,” replied Hettie.
Victoria set a gimlet eye on Mr. Allen Banfield, who looked amused at the girls’ antics but with more of an avuncular than amorous air, while the Dosett brothers were more interested in outshining each other than catching a young lady’s eye—until the elder caught sight of Phyllis. With a smile, Charles Dosett raised a hand, but she returned it with a frown and a cold shoulder, taking her friends by the arms and dragging them away.
“Have you given up on the Dosett heir?” asked Victoria.
“Nowyouare being a goose. Why would I abandon such a prospect?” Phyllis laughed with a roll of her eyes. “No, I laid my traps last night, and he walked right into them. If I were to show any true interest in him so early in the game, he might wriggle free. Nothing stirs a man to action like being denied that which he desires.”
“Is that how you snared Mr. Farthing?” asked Hettie with a sly smile.
“You are wicked!” replied Phyllis with a gaping glare that held more amusement than anger.
But Hettie chuckled at that.
