Page 44 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

When finished, he put away his drawing things and approached Sophia, whose answering smile tightened his chest with longing and regret. The lambs were not as happy to see Philip as Sophia was. They skittered away, but Sophia pressed pieces of a wrinkled apple into Philip’s hand. He reached out a cupped hand, and soon the little lambs were his friends.

Sophia and Philip did not speak. Beyond the noises of the animals and the occasional breathy laughter from them, the morning was silent. Words were a distraction, and he wanted nothing to change as the warmth of Sophia’s shoulder pressed against him.

The lamb jumped from her lap, and without a word, she stood, offered him a hand, and pulled him to his feet. She led him into the outbuilding where the lambs were born. Sophia steered Philip to where a lamb lay next to its mother. It was covered in another lamb’s coat, secured around it like a cloak.

“Look,” Sophia whispered. “This is the orphaned lamb I told you of. The mother has accepted it, and we will be able to remove the lost lamb’s fleece soon.”

The satisfaction evident in Sophia’s voice warmed Philip, and he squeezed her hand. “You are a marvel, Sophia.”

Sophia held his hand tighter in reply. Philip basked in the ease between them, and they stood together for some minutes, watching the ewe eat her breakfast with the lamb asleep, curled up in a tight circle.

“It is a miracle,” said Sophia.

Light filled the barn, and Malcolm strode in noisily, disturbing the moment of harmony between Philip and Sophia.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Worthington.” As Mr. Burns spoke, the baby lamb shuttered awake and began bleating for its mother. “I need to discuss something with you. If you are busy…” He looked pointedly at Sophia and Philip.

“Of course not.” Sophia let go of Philip’s hand, rubbing it against her skirts as color rose in her cheeks. They had done nothing at all wrong, and Sophia should not feel embarrassed.

“Well, then, I wondered when you’re planning to shear your sheep. I believe Smith is ready for any wool available. Will you be adding the lamb wool to the lot, or is it too early? I need to be sure there is sufficient space.”

Her light extinguished. She was once again a solemn farmer.

“Please excuse me.” Philip nodded to Sophia and Mr. Burns. “I also have work to do.”

“If what you do is called work,” Mr. Burns said as Philip walked out the door.

“I suppose it depends on who you ask.” Philip winked at Sophia.

With her eyes on Philip’s back, Sophia gave Malcolm a disapproving look, but he simply continued their conversation. Filled with sudden irritation, Sophia was not of a mind to concentrate on what Mr. Burns was saying. She was vexed at having had her morning with Philip interrupted. Things were so easy with him, but she stopped short of examining her heart. It wasn’t often she had a quiet moment just to watch her flock. She refused to accept that Philip’s departure had contributed to her fallen mood.

Sophia answered Malcolm’s questions mechanically, and as her gaze drifted to the door closing behind Philip, she wondered if he would go see Katherine Spencer again that day.

Following Sophia’s gaze, Malcolm said, “I think it’s time you invite Mr. Eliot to leave.”

Surprised, Sophia asked, “Why do you say that? I’d like Mr. Eliot to stay a little longer. He is a dear friend, and I would like to maintain that friendship.”

“I have been debating on whether to tell you this, my dear, but there is something you should know about your old friend.”

Sophia bristled at being called, “My dear.” Pet names were distasteful to her, especially when Malcolm used them as he did now, with a possessive, authoritative tone.

“I found Mr. Eliot searching my private papers.”

Sophia stilled. “That is strange. Are you sure?”

“I am quite certain, and Mr. Tate can attest to it. I have no idea what he was looking for, but I feel uncomfortable with him, love.” Another term of endearment that grated on her. Mr. Burns held a hat in one hand and swatted it against his other hand as he spoke. “Sophia, I know he is your friend, but you’ve not seen him in years. Do you really know him anymore? I don’t want his presence to come between us.” Mr. Burns’ eye twitched. “We are happy and will be happier still once we are married. Since Mr. Eliot arrived, a rift has grown between us. You are distant. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Sophia bit her lip. “I have no confession to make. I had hoped you and Mr. Eliot would become friends. I am sorry the visit hasn’t gone well for you, and I cannot imagine why Mr. Eliot would go through your things…” Sophia trailed off, and she glanced again toward the door. “Perhaps you’re right. It’s time for him to go.”

Malcolm voiced her own suspicion. “Mr. Eliot and Miss Spencer may make an alliance. If that were the case, I would do my best to be friendly to him.”

“Yes, that would be very nice.” Philip and Katherine. As she spoke, an image of her two friends exiting the church in a shower of rose petals and rice thrust itself into Sophia’s conscience. Her stomach roiled.

Before that could happen, she would send him away.

Malcolm bid farewell, but when he was at the door, he said, “I almost forgot. I have business elsewhere and will be gone for the next several days. I hope that when I return, I will have you to myself.”

Sophia nodded. She pushed the ring Malcolm had given her around her finger with her thumb, noticing the hot circle it made, but she refused to acknowledge the growing heaviness inside her stomach.