Page 37 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

“Aren’t you curious about my fortune?” Philip asked as she checked on the rams, shaking her left leg as she walked.

“It’s clear you’re eager to tell me. Please, unburden yourself.”

“You are no fun at all, Miss Sophia.”

She raised her hands. “I’m still tired. Please, relate the nonsense Old Mother Carter imparted. I burn with curiosity.” Sophia gave a half-smile and leaned her back against the cart.

“You burn with curiosity? Nothing else?” He strode closer to her.

“I won’t follow your foolishness. If you wish to tell me something, say it.”

Philip inched closer to Sophia. He couldn’t help it. He knew he stood too close. He felt her warmth, and he saw her pupils dilate as she met his gaze. He rested a hand against the cart, caging Sophia in on one side, and said, “Since you show so little interest, I will keep it to myself, but it was all about you.”

Sophia didn’t respond but kept her eyes on his. She felt the same way he did, she told him with every look. Her breath was shallow, but she still said nothing.

Time stretched until Sophia rested her hand on his lapel. Philip laughed softly and moved closer, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Philip,” Sophia said when they were close enough that the gentlest whisper could be heard between them.

“Sophia.” Philip leaned in, his cheek brushing hers.

A ram bleated from where he was tied in the cart, and Sophia startled.

Philip whispered a curse as Sophia ducked away.

“Philip, I want to. It hurts not to, but I am promised to another man.”

“Then break your promise. What of your promise to me?”

“Don’t throw that at me. We were too young. You didn’t come when I expected. You told me you would be here two years ago.” Sophia was now five feet away and pacing. He wondered if her heart was beating as fast as his. So fast it hurt. So hard it might break.

“You found a way to live without me. You’ll do just fine, and so will I.” She stopped to face Philip, her arms around herself.

“I was never without you. Whose voice do you think was in my head, encouraging me to do better? Your voice. Your words. Louder than my self-criticism, louder than Monsieur Aubin.”

“I can’t. If I break the engagement, I will lose everything. I am too entangled.” Sophia began pacing again, and Philip leaned against the cart, waiting for her to explain. She alternately clasped her hands and wiped them on her skirt. “I use his land for grazing. I borrowed money from him to increase my flock. All my contacts are his. He ships my wool and grain to the buyers he introduced me to. Uncle Thorpe’s threats are nothing compared to what Mr. Burns could do. He could take my farm, all of it, if he wished.”

Philip sank to the ground. He brought his knees to his chest and tilted his head back to rest on a wheel spoke. He cursed himself for the thousandth time for not coming sooner. He understood Sophia well enough to know that she’d accepted Mr. Burn’s help because it was a business arrangement. If Philip offered to reclaim his inheritance and either take her away to Bramblefields or buy her out of her entanglement, Sophia would not accept. She was too independent and too stubborn. And she loved her farm.

Still, there must be a way to rectify this. Perhaps Burns was, as his mother suspected, not an upright man. Dishonesty was not something Sophia tolerated.

“Let’s get back before it gets dark.” He offered his hand to her, and she took it, searching his face. Philip groaned at her touch, and she looked away.

“I hope you understand,” Sophia whispered.

“I understand that I never should have left England, never left your side. I should not have waited to relinquish my inheritance. I should have done that the moment my mother sent you away.”

“Your inheritance?”

He’d said he sold a few paintings and that he hoped to sell more, but he hadn’t told the whole story. So, as Sophia and Philip made their way back to the farm, sitting with a full twelve inches between them, their conversation never waned. He told Sophia that he’d given up his inheritance and that he planned to provide for himself with his earnings as a paid artist. He had enough to live on due to some unencumbered money left him by his grandmother, but he hoped to make his living as an artist. In turn, Sophia told Philip the details of the will that allowed her uncle to make the demands that were hurting her farm, of the debts her father had accumulated, how she had allied herself with Mr. Burns to save the farm.

By the time they arrived at the farmhouse, Philip had never felt so close to Sophia despite the physical distance she kept between them. Nor had he ever felt as much despair regarding their chances of marriage.

When Worthington Farmhouse came into view, a farm cart and a throng of people were in front of the house.

“Hurry, Philip! Something is wrong.”

Philip urged the horses along until they arrived at the front door where the servants were gathered around Uncle Thorpe. A maid was shouting, but the words were lost on Philip. His attention was captured by Mrs. Worthington who sat atop a farm cart full of trunks.