Prologue #2
“Ah, Cunningworth, what shall we do with you?” The man clapped a hand on his shoulder.
His voice had turned cheerful, cutting the tension.
“Lady Sophia is beseeching us with her eyes to be spared the courtesy of your attention. She does not lack brains; she lacks patience for forced conversation with Philistines.” This was accompanied by a few snickers.
Just when Sophia thought surely Robert must take offense, the man continued.
“As do I, for you have been promising to beat me soundly at bowls, so let us have the jack you were searching for and be off.”
“True enough! We are wasting precious time,” another gentleman said. She recognized Tom Perkins, the squire’s son and a friend of Robert’s who was content to follow his lead.
Robert hesitated still, but the first gentleman—her rescuer—went over to the desk in the corner of the room. “Here it is, and the paint’s dry. Let us go.”
To Sophia’s surprise, he put his arm around Robert and steered him out of the room, the others following.
She heard Robert’s laughter above the rest, which meant the friend had been able to take the sting out of his words—although, it was not out of the realm of possibility that Robert did not know what a Philistine was.
Regardless, she couldn’t believe anyone was capable of managing him that way.
She had never known one able to do so, not even his own father.
Her vision cleared, and she had a sudden desire to see the face of the man who had come to her aid. All she had perceived was his olive coat and buckskin breeches—hair that fell in golden-blond waves like an angel. Heart racing, she hurried to the doorway and peered out. There was no one in sight.
Once outdoors, she rejoined a group of girls that included her sister Camilla, walking in the direction of the game being set up on the lawn.
No one took notice of Sophia, which was precisely what she had hoped for.
The players were in high spirits as they chose teams for a game of fours.
There would be many more spectators than players, but no one seemed to mind it.
Sophia’s first glimpse of the gentleman she was seeking was a rewarding one.
The man had a handsome face with pale blue eyes underneath unruly brows; his nose was perfectly proportioned, and his lips remained on the edge of a smile.
The faint lines on either side of it hinted at good humor.
She could not draw her eyes away, but watched as he naturally took charge of the players, reminding them of the rules with an ease that showed him a born leader.
She wished she could ask someone what his name was, but doing so would reveal her interest. If, however, she paid attention someone might address him, and she would have her information.
“Harwood, stop. If you put me with Perkins, we shall be soundly beaten. Give me one of the ladies instead.” This was from one of Robert’s university friends.
Laughter came from all sides at the friendly slight, but Sophia focused on the words. He had called the gentleman Mr. Harwood. She had not expected victory to come so quickly! She scarcely took in his response because Robert joined in with the teasing.
“Felix always offers to organize the games. It’s so he can hoard the best players on his team and cover his own deficiencies.”
Robert’s crack was met with more amusement, and Sophia found herself smiling along with everyone.
Mr. Felix Harwood. She knew his Christian name now, too.
As if Mr. Harwood felt the pull of her interest, he turned and approached the group of girls where Sophia stood.
She went still behind Bernice Milton, fearful he would speak to her—wishing he might speak to her.
“Can I persuade any of you ladies to join us?”
“I will,” Camilla offered, stepping forward, and he turned to Sophia’s sister with a look of pleasure.
That her younger sister could so easily win such a smile from him dimmed Sophia’s feelings of victory at having learned his name, but she could not do what Camilla did.
She could not join the game, for as with many things, she was not good enough.
“No one else?” Mr. Harwood asked the group at large. It felt like his voice was directed toward her, but she kept her face lowered. His offer was met only with the shake of heads and hands covering their giggles. Bernice stepped to the side, leaving Sophia exposed.
His boots moved into Sophia’s vision. When she dared to look up, she found his eyes on her, but he did not press her to play.
Instead, he smiled and gave her a wink, which stopped her heart from beating for a full pause.
He then turned to where the game was being set up, and she could breathe again.
“Grantly, go and see if some of those returning from the boathouse wish to play, and we shall have our eight.”
Mr. Grantly lifted his hand and went off to Mr. Smithson, who was walking beside Dorry, but Sophia could only think of Mr. Harwood’s smile and the wink he had sent her way.
He had not only protected her, he had seen her.
She could scarcely say that about her own family.
She stared at his retreating form as he went and picked up one of the balls.
He tossed it up and caught the ball easily, then laughed when another of their friends pretended to throw a punch.
And suddenly…suddenly it was as though the world had color.
Mr. Felix Harwood. She had not thought that such a kind and handsome and honorable gentleman could exist.