How ready her father was to give her up to her readers! How easily he spoke of hearts and passion when it came to her poems.A barrier of pages kept her safe from them, tucked away at home, hidden behind her words.
More and more, she felt dissatisfaction and resentment replace helplessness and acceptance. One day, she would…
Her house of cards collapsed. She would never have the strength to do what Adriana had done. It just wasn’t in her.
However, when she imagined her future without Tobias, little whorls of courage rose up within her. It needed to percolate into a full-scale tornado before anything could be done to change her fate. That seemed a phenomenon unlikely in the climate of her life.
And yet, despite her doubts and fears, Sophia had a sense that the weather was shifting.
Chapter Sixteen
The atmosphere inthe Howell carriage was permeated with nervous tension. Each of the three men gave the impression that all was well, but the discerning observer would quickly have recognized it as a façade. Tobias certainly knew it was.
The owner of the luxurious coach was staring out of the window. Perhaps he was considering his escape. Perhaps he was surveying the land, noting improvements that might be made to his own estate. What he was purposefullynotdoing was thinking about the imminent gathering, where his untasted pies awaited him.
Tobias suppressed a giggle. He was not prone to giggling, but he was on edge, and the sound bubbled up inside of him like a hiccup. It was not dignified. He was urgently trying to get it under control before meeting Sophia’s father. The last thing he needed was to shake the man’s hand while grinning like a simpleton.
His uncle, bless his heart, bore the ordeal of imminent socializing with great fortitude. He was here for his friend, for an afternoon of excellent verse, and—if he could manage it—very little conversation, indeed. His countenance was the most convincingly stoic of the three gentlemen. Given his age, he had had the most practice at it. But his veneer was a little tarnished whenever Tobias addressed him, for his concentrated effort atcalm would be interrupted, and he would barely be able to summon a meaningful response.
Unfortunately for him, Tobias found comfort in talking. The nearer they came to the Grant residence, the more Tobias nattered, and the more disconcerted his uncle became. This might have been yet another reason why the viscount kept his gaze aimed away from them, so as not to be drawn into their awkward duet.
“This is Sophia’s favorite tree.” Tobias resumed his running commentary as they turned into the drive. “She can see it from her window and watch the seasons change through it. Whether it be adorned with fresh, green shoots, filled with leaves and birdsong, or laden with snow, it is a constantly changing visage.”
“I see.”
“Do you, Uncle? I scarce think you turned your head. If you do so quickly, you might yet catch a glimpse of it. Ah, no, you have missed it. However, we can now see the flowerbed she instructed the gardener to plant. They are all her mother’s favorite flowers. I recognize some that grow in your garden also.”
“That is very likely.”
“I suppose that is true. There are some species that are beloved by all. Or it might be that these varieties grow best in the local soil. Which do you think it is?”
“I could not say.”
Tobias stared at his uncle for a second. When no further communication was forthcoming, he proceeded to steer the conversation—such as it was—on his own.
“Look! Six, seven,eightcarriages are here already! It is well that the Grants have such a long drive to accommodate them all. This bodes well for your selection, does it not, Lord Howell? So many fine pies…er,ladiesto choose from.”
At the sound of his name, the viscount dragged his mind away from its distraction.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I said, it seems a large number of families have accepted the invitation to the poetry reading. You will be quite surrounded by a crowd of beautiful women. And their chaperones, of course. How fortunate you are.”
Both the viscount and the earl grew visibly glum at these words. Lord Howell, who had only just surfaced from his self-imposed silence, retreated to it hastily. Uncle Edward mirrored his distant stare, the view in their minds’ eyes likely filled with anythingbuta bevy of beautiful young women. Tobias, by contrast, was delighted. A crowd meant cover from which to observe. And he wanted to observe their host. He intended to find the loophole through which Mr. Grant could be approached. A quiet corner from which to monitor Miss Sangford would be helpful too.
Fortunately, no such spying eyes were upon them as they pulled up to the entrance. They were able to make their arrival incognito, in so far as the insignia of the Howell family upon the carriage doors allowed.
Tobias almost forgot himself, ready to spring from the carriage, keen to channel his nervous energy into movement. But the footman bowed and said, “Mi’lord,” before stepping back, reminding Tobias that there was a correct order to things. He fought against a bouncing knee, then fairly shot from the compartment when his turn finally came.
He immediately resumed his tide of conversation, notching up the rate of speech as they approached the heavy oak front doors. “I think you will like their library, Uncle, if we can persuade our host to let you view it. It is small compared to your own, but I believe very few families can boast a collection like yours, barring perhaps his lordship’s here. The books here arenot as old, but they have a wide range of classics in the original tongue, purchased, I am certain, to feed Miss Grant’s hungry mind. She is quite fluent in Latin, Greek, French…”
“Yes, yes, dear boy,” Lord Carthige interjected, “but may I suggest you rein in your enthusiasm somewhat? It will not take much to attract the watchful gaze of her father. You would do well to draw no attention to yourself. Let the afternoon be memorable for Miss Grant’s verse, and not your verbosity.”
“You are right, of course, Uncle. Thank you for your advice. I will make every effort to heed it. It would be a shame if I made a poor impression at the one opportunity I had to make a favorable one. Who knows when I might…”
“Tobias.”
“Yes, Uncle?”
