Perhaps he was not as happy as she had imagined. And having known her once, was that enough? It had not been deliberate seduction. He was not the kind of man to make notches in the bedpost. But the distance between them now… Was he having second thoughts?
Why does he not come?
Her breath caught and her hand fell away from the wall.
Why do I not go to him?
To resolve this one way or the other, it was the only thing to do.
She crossed the room and snatched up the candle again. And paused.
They were in the middle of a case—two cases, counting David’s problem. This was not the time to risk personal emotions.
Was it?
“Oh, damn you, Solomon, why don’t you talk to me?” she whispered. Although even then she knew she was being unfair. Because she had not talked to him either.
*
“Sophie?”
To her annoyance, she had no sooner closed the front door behind her than her mother emerged from the dim parlor.
“Yes, of course,” she said lightly. “I hope you were not waiting up. Mrs. Lance sent me home in their carriage.”
“I thought she would. I just worry until you are home. I’m the same with Edgar and even your father.”
“You worry too much, Mama. Do go to bed now, or you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”
“So will you.”
“But I am young—as you keep telling me.”
“And I am not yet in my dotage, thank you! How are things over the hill?”
The Lances’ estate was called Chettering, but in Sutton May, it was always referred to asover the hill. Even though the hill was barely a bump in the landscape, it stood out in the unrelieved flatness of the surrounding countryside.
“They all seem well. They are going to Miss Mortimer’s party tomorrow night, as we thought.”
“Excellent. I own I am looking forward to it—aren’t you?”
“Yes, of course.” Except, of course, that Perry Mortimer would be there too with his hot eyes and wandering hands. Andhewould not be there.
“Edgar says you went to Miss Mortimer’s for tea,” Mama said casually.
“She is always at home on Wednesdays.”
“Was Peregrine there?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Why sadly?” her mother demanded. “Any other girl would be flattered to have such distinguished attention, which you appear to delight in thwarting!”
“Trust me, there is no delight,” Sophie said. “I do not like him, and I very much doubt that his attentions, as you call them, are honorable.”
“Sophie!” her mother said, genuinely shocked.
“He already sees himself as lord of the manor. And trust me, the daughter of a country doctor is not the bride he will choose.”
