Page 134 of A Duchess for his Family

“Formal.” The word hurt even now. “He was kind,” Sophia continued quickly. “That was almost worse. If he had been angry, at least I might have understood it. But he was simply… careful.”

Her mother leaned back slightly. “And you believe he regrets kissing you.”

Sophia’s fingers tightened around the cup. “Yes.”

The fire settled softly. Outside, wind moved against the windowpanes, carrying the faint rustle of the trees surrounding Keswick. Sophia remembered Benedict beneath the chandeliers and his eyes when she asked him whether this was how their marriage would always be.

“He reminded me of what we agreed,” she said.

Her mother’s expression sharpened faintly.

“Our marriage was arranged for Amelia and Marjorie. We both knew that from the beginning. I was the one who insisted that it remain in name only. I… thought it would protect me.”

“From him?”

Sophia hesitated. “From… expectation, perhaps.”

Her mother considered that. “And did it?”

Sophia laughed quietly. “No.”

The admission hurt less than she expected. Perhaps because there was no longer any point denying it.

She placed the cup upon the table before her hands could begin trembling.

“I love him, Mama.”

Her mother’s face changed. Her lips were not smiling, but her eyes seemed to be.

“I love him,” she repeated. “And I do not know what to do with that.”

Her mother reached across and took her hand. Sophia looked down at their joined fingers.

“I thought I understood what I was agreeing to,” she confessed. “I thought it could be enough. The girls, the house, being useful somewhere. Benedict would be… Benedict. Dependable, kind, a little impossible.”

“Impossible?”

“He notices everything,” Sophia whispered. “Or he did. He noticed when I was uncomfortable before I said anything. He knew when I wanted to leave a crowded room. He listened when I spoke as though I had said something worth hearing.”

Her voice began to fail. Sophia drew a breath.

“And then suddenly he was teaching himself not to notice me at all.”

Her mother squeezed her hand. “That hurt.”

“Yes.”

Sophia looked away. “I could not bear being beside him every day and pretending I wanted nothing more.”

“So you came here.”

“Yes.”

“To stop loving him?”

Sophia looked at her. Her mother’s question contained no mockery. That somehow made it worse.

“I thought perhaps distance would help.”