A moment later he felt a nudge.Sophia took his hand in hers, silently standing close beside him, their joined hands held down at their sides.As she watched Matthew play, she stroked her thumb over the back of Vincent’s hand.
He felt a bewildering surge of emotion for her.Beyond wanting to kiss her, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight against his chest.Bury his face against her neck and inhale her delicate rose scent.Borrow some of her calm strength for his own.
Bugger this British stiff-upper-lip nonsense that had let such a painful wound fester for so many years, with no one directly addressing it.
Until Sophia innocently popped the blister by asking Wallace a question that made them all re-examine a belief he’d held since they were small children.With Gert present to add her viewpoint.
Had it been innocent?Or had Sophia planned this with Gert?
Clearly Wallace had been caught off-guard as much as Vincent.
How would his brother respond to these revelations, to Gert’s assertion?Could he change beliefs he’d held so firmly for most of his life?
And how was this going to affect Vincent’s own view?He no longer needed to harbor doubts that had affected his actions for decades, influenced almost every decision he made.Could he now finally feel confident he was indeed the rightful heir?
He blinked.His lungs began accepting a full breath again.
Vincent remembered his parents as being affectionate toward one another, often holding hands, embracing, even kissing if they thought no one was looking.Only nine years old when Mother died, he’d never questioned if their marriage was arranged or if they had fallen in love at first sight.Apparently both statements were true.
He thought back to his first sight of Sophia, in the bedchamber in which he expected to sleep after a long journey on horseback.She hadn’t called out for help upon finding her sleep interrupted by a stranger.She stood on the bed ready to swing a candlestick like a cricket bat at his head in order to defend herself, never mind how small she was compared to him.His annoyance at his chamber being occupied had quickly given way to admiration, amusement, and curiosity.
But not love.
When they’d been trapped after the cave-in, she hadn’t waited for someone to come to her rescue.She’d worked to dig herself out, even when she thought she was alone in the dark.Any other woman would have been frightened half out of her wits.
His admiration for her grew.
She’d helped him revise his original composition into something that didn’t grate on his ears, that he’d be proud to play for Gert or any other discerning audience.
In jubilation, he’d kissed her.And desperately wanted to kiss her again, at the earliest opportunity.Any opportunity.If need be, he’d orchestrate such a chance to again taste her sweetness, to hold her again.
When the tide caught them unaware this afternoon and rolled into the cave, she planned to wade out rather than expecting him to carry her to safety.
Carrying her lithe body, with her legs wrapped around him, had sent his senses reeling to the point he’d almost stumbled and fell.He was still annoyed that Matthew’s arrival had prevented him from kissing her before she scurried away.
Hold on.
His sweet, proper, bluestocking schoolteacher was an independent lass.Of epic proportions.
Had she acted with equal independence when a former student came to her, seeking help to escape an unwanted arranged marriage?
And had her independent nature prevented her from letting Vincent offer her marriage when it seemed she had no other option?Surely her enthusiastic response to his kiss today, and the way she was holding his hand now in silent support, indicated she would be amenable to his courtship.
All he had to do then, to get her to agree to be his wife, was arrange for her to have another option.So that he was not rescuing her, but he was instead one of at least two choices.
How?What other options could he arrange?
Have Matthew propose to her?
Everything within him rebelled at the idea.Aside from the fact his blockhead best friend was besotted with Miss Ebrington, Sophia would see through the subterfuge.
What if she had another form of employment waiting for her after Gert’s project ended?A job offer to teach at another school.
With guilt, he thought of the two letters he had offered to mail for her and instead hid them in his satchel.At least he hadn’t followed his first impulse, which had been to burn them.
Enid, the maid, brought the tea tray.There were more sweets on it than usual.
Perhaps the staff had overheard their family drama?He wouldn’t put it past Kendall to want to smooth things over.Treats had always improved Uncle Digby’s mood.One of the few things he remembered about Uncle Digby was his fondness for sweets when home on leave, since they tended to be in short supply in army encampments.As batman, Kendall had done his best to procure them or find the ingredients for Aunt Gert to make them.
