Page 25 of A Duchess for his Family

“I am not used to being looked at,” she admitted more quietly. “Not in this way.”

Benedict slowed his pace. The path before them curved beneath a row of trees just beginning to thicken with summer green. Sunlight trembled over Sophia’s bonnet ribbon. She looked composed enough to satisfy every rule of conduct, yet he felt the tension in the hand that returned to his sleeve.

He thought to bring her here because it was proper for an engaged couple to be seen, because public appearances would make the announcement settled, respectable, undeniable, and because he had believed that once the world knew she was under his protection, it would be easier for her. He had not considered that being placed beneath his protection would also place her beneath his consequence. That failure irritated him.

“I should have warned you,” he said.

Sophia looked up, startled. “Warned me?”

“That people would stare. That they would speculate. That walking beside me would make you feel watched.”

Her expression softened at once, which he found worse than if she had remained annoyed. “You could not have prevented it.”

“No. But I might have prepared you.”

“I am not certain preparation would have helped. One cannot rehearse being examined like a new species of flower.”

Benedict glanced toward a pair of matrons who nearly stopped moving in order to observe them. “A rare flower, apparently.”

She gave him a look. “Was that meant to be charming?”

“I am uncertain.”

“It requires practice.”

“I shall add it to my list of duties.”

“You keep a list?”

“Several.”

“Of charming remarks?”

“Not yet.”

This time her smile lasted longer. The sight of it unsettled him in a manner he had no wish to examine.

Sophia’s smile was not like other women’s smiles. There was no calculation in it, no polished expectation of praise. It came slowly, as if she had first to obtain permission from herself, and when it appeared, Benedict felt, absurdly, as though he had been trusted with something private.

He looked ahead before he could stare like everyone else. Before he could decide whether silence was safer than conversation, Benedict remembered the subject he had meant to raise.

“In any case, before we marry, there are a few matters you ought to know about Rivermere Hall.”

Sophia looked up at him. “What sort of matters?”

“The household arrangements. The girls’ routines. Certain rules.”

“Do you have many rules?”

“There are several. For example, there is no climbing trees.”

She turned her head fully toward him. “None?”

“None.”

“Not even if Marjorie promises to come down before supper?”

“Especially not then.”