“I’d not miss it for the world.”
Her breath caught a moment. “Do you mean that?”
“You’ll find, Sophia Pemberton, that I do not say anything I don’t mean.”
***
“You are not paying attention.” Ella’s shrill voice cut into Sophia’s distraction. “Mother will not like that you are woolgathering during our lessons.”
“Imagine how she would feel if she were to discover thatyouhave woolgathered so much that you are still unable to locate Prussia on the map of Europe,” Sophia replied.
Ella’s nostrils flared. “That is your fault. You are supposed to be teaching me geography.”
Sophia refused to be cowed by the petulant child. “Joseph has managed to learn his maps. Clearly this is not a matter ofmyneglecting lessons.” If she had for one moment believed Ella’s lack of knowledge was the result of anything other than the girl’s own laziness, Sophia would not have pressed the issue. But Ella, despite being bright, refused to apply herself to learning anything.
“Yes, well—” Ella sputtered a moment, clearly struggling to find a way to make this Sophia’s fault. “I do not wish to learn geography today. I want to study French.”
Ella had a natural aptitude for French. If only the girl would put in a bit of effort, she could become remarkably proficient. Effort, it seemed, was entirely out of the question when the subject matter was the countries of the world.
“We will study French tomorrow,” Sophia said. “Return to your maps.”
No sooner had Ella bent over her paper than a voice broke the silence, a voice that set Sophia’s skin crawling. “Miss Sophia. A moment of your time.”
She turned toward the nursery doorway. She dipped her head to indicate she was listening.
Mr. Haddington’s smile of amusement was anything but pleasant. “In private,” he clarified.
Sophia had no intention of ever being fully “in private” with Mr. Haddington. She followed him out as far as the corridor, then stopped. “What was it you needed?”
“We can speak in the library.”
She shook her head. “I won’t be away from the children any longer than necessary. We are in the midst of French lessons.”
“French can wait.” Mr. Haddington moved swiftly toward her, forcing her to step backward. A wall impeded her escape. “Why is it you never come to the library during the children’s riding lessons?”
Because I know you did not offer the invitation out of concern for my literacy.She couldn’t say that, however. She knew toowell the precariousness of her situation. “Their lessons were nearly the only time I was out of doors. I mean to continue spending it that way.”
One of his eyebrows arched, and the side of his mouth turned upward. “You needed only tell me that, Miss Sophia. I didn’t know where you were.”
That had been the point, really.
Mr. Haddington set his hand on the wall near her face. He leaned in close. “But now I know where to find you.”
She tried to move the other direction. He set his other hand on the other side of her, stopping her.
His gaze slid over her in an unnervingly possessive manner. “Playing coy has its appeal, but I’ve grown weary of this game. Do not pretend to be innocent in the ways of the world. I have seen you making up sweet to Buchanan. You are no delicate flower, and he is not the only one looking for nectar.”
He stepped closer, all but pressing her against the wall.
“I would ask you to keep a proper distance, sir.”
“I am master of this house.” He touched her face with the tips of his fingers. She flinched. “Any distance I choose is ‘proper.’”
She ducked away, trying to slip around the side of him. “I must return to my duties.”
He took firm hold of her wrist. “Wearespeaking of your duties, Sophia.”
Her lungs and heart froze, petrified. Mr. Haddington expected this of her. Demanded it.
