Page 11 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

He followed behind her, muttering under his breath, “Indeed, I don’t know what you’re paying me for.”

Sophia turned to assure her steward of his value, while opening the door.

“Miss Worthington,” Gregory’s warning came too late. Sophia collided with a man who stood on the other side of the door.

“Excuse me!” Their arms became tangled as they grasped to steady themselves. Once she was certain she’d not fall, she surveyed a familiar face. After taking a second to process, she whispered a pathetically breathless, “Philip?” Her fingers tightened around his arms. She did not want to let go. Philip had come.

He had changed. His expressive eyes and face, his wavy brown hair, though a shade darker, were well-known to her, but he’d grown. His face was more defined, his shoulders broader, stronger. He seemed taller and had a manly presence Sophia didn’t remember from before.

Yet it wasn’t his appearance that overtook Sophia. Her cherished wish was finally reality. His presence was familiar and comforting. It was an intense relief to simply stand next to him.

She needn’t hold the world together any longer because Philip was here. She brushed the foolish thought aside, irritation at war with the pleasure of seeing him. After all this time, to appear on her doorstep with that same fascinating smile. As if he hadn’t ignored her for years. As if he had not broken his promise.

Philip took Sophia’s hand and bent to kiss it as he used to do in his mocking way. Reflexively, she smacked his cheek. She couldn’t allow him to resume their friendship as if no time had passed.

With his hand on his cheek, Philip startled away from her, but his mouth drew into that mischievous grin that had endeared him to Sophia from their first meeting as children.

“Oh, Philip! It’s so lovely to see you. I certainly didn’t expect you so early this morning. How was your journey? You look remarkably unaffected by your long drive. The weather has been fine. I hope the roads were just as good.” Sophia spoke too quickly to allow any response. “I am on my way out. I must beg your pardon, for I didn’t expect you until this evening, as I said. And it really is you! But I have some business to attend to on the farm. You, of course, are exhausted and, I am certain, need to rest and have something to eat. After all these years, you’re here! Well, let me call Betsy and she’ll show you where you can set those things.” Words poured out of Sophia’s mouth like a flood. She clasped her hands in front of her and tried to calm the surge of energy that replaced the calm from a few moments ago.

“Excuse me, Miss Sophia. Should we defer our meeting?” asked Gregory.

She’d forgotten he was there and quickly made introductions but hesitated to answer Mr. Gregory’s question. Though she’d longed to see Philip, she was suddenly reluctant to spend time with him.

Philip cut in, “I’d love a morning ride. A bit of exercise is what I need after days in a blasted carriage. You’ll not mind if I come with you?”

That voice. Sophia shifted, hoping Philip wouldn’t see what she felt. The sound of his voice held so many memories of laughter and mischief. She’d forgotten that it came from low in his chest. Oh, how she’d missed hearing him speak. “All right, that would be lovely,” she said, hoping he did not sense her disinclination for his company. “If you really don’t mind spending your day in tiresome meetings.”

“Of course not. I’ve come to see you, and besides, I’ve wanted to see Worthington Farm for, what? Thirteen, fourteen years?”

Sophia felt the strength of Philip’s direct gaze, and it both thrilled and unnerved her.

Those eyes. That smile.

“It’s settled, then. I’ll have Will ready another horse. It looks like this one is tired out,” she said, gesturing to the horse upon which Philip had arrived.

While Sophia mounted Clarissa, she rebuked the impulse that had caused her to smack poor Philip, though her agitation at seeing him was only increasing. She dreaded spending the day with him. The tranquility she’d felt upon first seeing him was gone. It would be much better to work through the day without him, preparing to entertain him when she returned home.

Philip and Sophia rode side by side, and Gregory followed in the distant rear. Unable to help herself, Sophia stared at Philip. He gazed at Sophia with unabashed curiosity while Sophia, though no less intrigued by Philip’s familiar but more mature self, blushed furiously at her inability to tear her eyes from her friend.

Philip cleared his throat and said with nonchalance, “I can hardly believe I’m here. It’s exquisite. Your garden is colorful even this early in the season.”

This was Philip’s first visit to Worthington Farm, and Sophia was surprised to find how pleased she was to show it to him. As a child, Sophia had been ashamed to describe her home to Philip because the grandeur of Bramblefields had made her farm seem humble. That embarrassment was gone. “I have a very skilled gardener in my mother. After Father died, she planted, pruned, and brought the garden to life as it had never been. She does everything well—paints and embroiders beautifully. Have you continued painting?”

“Yes. I’ve studied art these past years on the continent. I hope to make a career of it.” Philip looked at Sophia with a playful smile, let out a loud, “Hayah!” and then galloped away.

In response to Philip’s holler, Sophia almost urged her horse after him. As children, they loved racing. Whoever shouted their agreed upon call initiated the race and had the advantage. Philip must have wrongly assumed he knew the way to her fields and tenant houses. Philip flew down the road away from her, and she laughed.

“Are you going after him, Miss?” inquired Gregory.

“No. He will get what he deserves.” Sophia veered right and onto the path leading to the farmland. When Philip noticed she wasn’t racing and turned to find her, she’d be out of view. Guilt tugged at her conscience, but the appeal of having the morning to acclimate herself to his presence outweighed any self-reproach.

“Who is he, if I may ask?”

“Merely a childhood friend come to visit.”

“I see. You were very surprised to see him. Happy, even. You must be excellent friends.” He looked at her sideways.

“Mr. Gregory, I hope you remembered to bring the papers Mr. Burns delivered yesterday. It has directions on how he would like the wool bound for shipping.”