Chapter Twenty-Four
Anote came along with breakfast the following morning. An invitation, for both Sophie and Andrew, from the Whitcombs.
“Your employer? What could he want with the both of us?” Andrew asked over his drink.
She folded the page, creasing it with her thumb and forefinger. “They are having a dinner party. Tonight.”
His brows lifted. “That is cutting matters rather fine, is it not?”
Sophie offered a wry smile. “Something tells me they did not intend to invite me—they had hoped to have replaced me by now.”
“Shall we snub them by rejecting the offer? We… ah, we are meant to return to Weybridge today.”
That made her wish to set down her toast. She was, of a sudden, quite unsettled by the idea. “How is the weather today?”
“The rain turned to snow in the night. The sun shines today, but I imagine the roads will be rather difficult at least until midday.”
“Then perhaps… perhaps we stay the day? We can return tomorrow, and…” She sighed, actually setting down her toast. “Andrew, I feel as if this position is slipping through my fingers. I think we have to go, or at least, I should. I do not wish to drag you along against your will.” It was the delay she’d hoped for, but she did not feel entirely pleased about it.
“Drag? I am your husband, Sophie, for all intents and purposes. I go where you go.”
Her stomach toppled over itself yet again. She managed a nod. “If we stay, I can go in for work as well, and that will show him my dedication. If I perform well at his party, I may yet prove to him my worth on the project.”
“You need not prove yourself to anyone, Sophie,” Andrew said.
If only that were the singular issue. She worried that, in addition to watching this position slip through her fingers, she might be losing something else far more terrifying.
Her heart.