Chapter Twenty-One
Andrew’s jealousy flared, and for no reason other than the fact that Sophie was smiling at Charles instead of him. He’d tried the romantic gesture of offering to relocate his entire life for her, and all he’d gotten was an earful. Charles illustrated how horrific he was at bowing and gained a grin.
“Go on then, Charles, find your own bookish woman. This one is taken.” His voice had a note of steel he’d not intended, and Charles lifted a humored brow.
“We are for the lending library, Mr. Shepherd, if you would like to join us,” Sophie offered.
Blast it, Sophie, don’t encourage the parasite.
Andrew ran a hand over his face, settling his emotions. Or trying to. This was his friend, not his competition. He didn’t need to strangle the man with his cravat.
Charles pulled on his fob, glancing at the watch face with a slight frown. “Actually, I believe I would enjoy that. Might I escort you, Mrs. Langford? Andrew can show us the way.”
Andrew gave a tense smile when Sophie agreed and took Charles’s arm. Then he seethed the entire four blocks to Hookham’s, and his scowl deepened when Sophie hardly looked at him before entering the store and beginning to peruse.
“Blast, man, you are in deep,” Charles said, pushing back his coat and placing his hands on his waist. “What did you do to vex your wife so?”
“I might have fixed it had my friend not monopolized her time; but if you must know, I offered to follow her to Durham for her position.”
Charles let out a low whistle. “And she was upset? Which, by the way, I was trying to help you. A little time with a fool like me, and she should see you for the diamond you are.”
Andrew gave him a dry look. “Thank you? But yes, she was upset.” He barely refrained from pushing a hand haphazardly through his hair. “Blast it all, Charles, I think I’ve condemned myself to a lifetime of unrequited love.”
“You knew that was a possibility when you proposed.” He said it without cruelty, but it cut to the core. “Yet I do not believe you should resign yourself just yet. All the while she walked with me, her eyes were on you.”
Andrew wanted to believe it, but at the same time did not.
“Maybe you should take a more direct approach. Your wife seems to appreciate candor.”
“She is not even my wife yet.” Andrew flexed his hands.
“Then you have time even yet. A true proposal may be warranted.”
“And if she turns me down?”
“Then you’ve saved yourself that life of unrequited love.”
Andrew’s eyes cut to his friend. He appreciated the listening ear, but bitterness still tinged his thoughts. “I cannot wait until you’re mired in love. I will be full of useful advice like ‘just propose, what could go wrong?’”
His friend did not take the jab, his eyes following Sophie, where she’d just appeared at the edge of a row of shelves, immersed in a leatherbound offering. “Perhaps I will just lose the bet. It seems the safest route.”