He stared out the window of the coach, watching the bare trees pass by, bringing him closer and closer to the woman he wished tohave as his wife. He needed to talk to her, but she didn’t wish to see him. That was his problem. So, what was the solution?
He needed to trick her into seeing him somehow. His brother’s words of just two days hence filled his mind.“I was tricked into seeing Amelia by the Duke of Northwick, of all people, though I’m quite sure the duchess orchestrated the whole affair.”
That was it. Christopher needed someone he could trust, whom Sophie trusted, to arrange for them to meet. He grinned.
He knew exactly who to ask.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sophie quietly descendedthe grand staircase, well aware most of the occupants at Silver Meadows had retired, but she couldn’t resist Mrs. Boyd’s fresh damson custard tarts, which the cook had told her were being made this very evening.
She was once again thankful for Mrs. Boyd’s friendship. There was no one else she could talk to about her heartache. She couldn’t very well tell her friends, and Rose kept asking questions about when the wedding would be. It was very difficult not to cry.
Mrs. Boyd was very good at listening and never made Sophie feel foolish or that she wasn’t worthy of their friendship. She’d thought long and hard about her birth and was convinced her comfort in talking to Mrs. Boyd, Miss Clark, and the housekeeper must come from having more in common with them than she’d realized, since she was the daughter of a groom.
Her mother had also stated that her true father was exuberant and happy. That knowledge made her wonder if that was where her comfort with Tam came from.
She sighed. It had been over a sennight since she last saw him, and her heart still hurt.
She’d hoped the pain would go away with time, but it hadn’t. Every night, she found herself crying, questioning her decision but coming back to it again and again and seeing no other way. She simplyloved him too much to marry him. Even in her thoughts, the logic seemed wrong, but there was no logic when it came to love. At least that was clear in Shakespeare, and Mrs. Boyd concurred.
Slipping into the servants’ corridor, she sniffed the air as she came closer to the kitchens. Was that a whiff of cedar? She hadn’t expected to smell that. It reminded her of Tam, evoking feelings that caused her to slow her step and swallow back tears. It was probably no more than some wood brought in for the fire. Not a day went by without something reminding her of him, whether it was gazing out at the pond or seeingRob Royon her mantel. She couldn’t even bring herself to read it.
What she should be thinking about was how to tell her parents she wouldn’t be participating in the Season. She hadn’t even told the duchess. When Lady Northwick and Lady Sommerset had come to look in upon her, they’d been so worried about her bruises, which had now faded, that she’d been forced to rest until just two days ago. Now, she wasn’t sure she should inform the duchess, since she didn’t know what her parents would say. After all, her mother had taken an oath of secrecy and never told anyone…until now.
“Ah, there you are, Sophie. What perfect timing you have. I just pulled a batch of tarts from the fire. You set yourself down and I’ll get your tea.”
She smiled at Mrs. Boyd’s enthusiasm. “And the tarts.”
Mrs. Boyd laughed and scurried over to a far table where a couple dozen tarts were set.
Sophie sat down at the wooden table where she and Mrs. Boyd always chatted, leaving the seat facing the kitchen for the cook, who liked to keep an eye on her space. Sophie faced the wall, as usual.
Mrs. Boyd came over and set down the tea. “Now, how many tarts would you like? One? Two?”
“Would it be too much to have three?”
Mrs. Boyd beamed. “Not at all. Not at all. Three it is.”
As her friend scurried off, Sophie took a sip of tea. Mrs. Boyd always made it perfect with a liberal amount of cream and no sugar.
Hearing footsteps behind her, she clasped her hands in her lap to allow Mrs. Boyd to set down the plate. The plate appeared, but the hand that held it was not Mrs. Boyd’s. She glanced up, expecting a footman, and looked into the warm brown eyes of…
“Tam.”
Her heart lurched. He looked handsomer than she remembered, and as a smile lifted his lips, her heart raced.
“I missed you, Sophie.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her.
She closed her eyes as her heart sighed and happiness filled her.
When he let her go, she gazed up at him. And then she remembered who she was. She stood, sending the chair toppling backward. “I can’t see you.”
He grasped her hand, his so large and warm, making her want to stay. “Actually, you can. Everything has changed.”
Curious, she hesitated to pull away. “Not everything. I cannot change what I am.”
“Nor do I want you to.”
