Page 36 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

“You surprise me, Sophia. I remember you eating three sour cherry tarts at once. I thought you could hold more than that.”

“If this pie were full of cherries, I could.”

Philip stood and reached down for her hand. It was past noon and time to leave for home. Sophia took Philip’s hand, but instead of leading her down to the cart, he took her in his arms and led her, dancing, to the center of the green where other dancers congregated.

Together, Sophia and Philip laughed, whooped, spun, and skipped along with the lively crowd of dancers. Sophia passed through what felt like countless hands and arms, from one to the next. Her partners were all familiar to her, neighboring farmers, the vicar, her own tenants, people with whom she frequently met but never had fun.

They danced in a blur of smiles and laughter, encouraged by the trio of musicians who played and stomped with all the enthusiasm the day deserved. Sophia was short of breath, both because of the exertion of dancing and also because she could not stop laughing. It had been years since she had been relaxed enough to enjoy the simple goodness of life.

When Sophia spun back into Philip’s arms, she knew without meeting his eyes who held her. His grace and firm hold both thrilled her and put her at ease. She knew where he would go before he led her. They danced closely together, hands clasping, legs brushing, arms wrapped firmly.

Sophia looked up to find Philip watching her, and her breath caught. His usual smile had been replaced with an inscrutable intensity. Her own smile fell. She’d seen that expression before. Suddenly, they were too close and not close enough. The image of their shared kisses spread in Sophia’s mind, and she averted her gaze. As she turned her head, Philip’s lips brushed her forehead, leaving a hot streak under her hairline that warmed her and tightened her stomach. It was too much to have this moment, knowing that he would soon be gone. She tripped over Philip’s foot, and his arms tightened around her and drew her upright. He cradled her against him, holding her to him so close that his heartbeat throbbed against her chest.

“Excuse me, Philip. I am tired out.” She pushed out of his arms.

“Perhaps it is time we gather your rams and return home.”

“Yes.” Work will save me.

Once the rams were secure in the cart, Sophia asked, “Philip, have you seen Mr. Gregory?”

“I was told he went home. Something to do with his wife.” After helping Sophia to her seat, he mounted the cart and took the reins. “You don’t mind if I drive?”

“Of course not, but it is quite improper that we are alone.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Philip smiled.

They had barely left the fair when Sophia, overtaken by the consequences of late nights at her desk, began to droop. She looked back at the cart, wishing it were full of hay instead of rams.

Philip must have noticed her nodding head, for he said, “You may as well make use of my shoulder. You’re tired.”

Sophia didn’t hesitate. She removed her bonnet, rested her cheek against Philip’s arm, and fell asleep.

“You will receive your greatest wish,” the crone had promised after Philip crossed her palm with silver.

“How can you be sure?” he’d asked.

“’Tis inevitable. It must be.”

“What is inevitable?”

“Love.”

It was just what Philip had wanted to hear, so he ignored his mother’s advice and pretended as they danced that Sophia was not engaged, that she did not think of him as a brother or a friend. He’d watched her beaming up at the others she danced with, her skirts twirling with an elegance she seemed unaware of. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were bright. The crease between her brows disappeared, and Philip saw her afresh.

There she is. That’s the Sophia I love.

Now, with her head against his shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek and her lavender scent overwhelming his senses, he was tempted to race past Worthington Farm and take Sophia where Mr. Burns could not find her.

The cart hit a rock and Sophia bounced awake, grabbing Philip’s arm to steady herself.

“Where are we? How much longer?” she asked, moving away from Philip.

“Maybe an hour. You can keep sleeping.” Philip missed her warmth.

“Can we stop a minute? My leg is tingling.”

Philip pulled the cart to a stop and helped Sophia to the ground.