Chapter 3
“Sophia!” Lady Helena Hawthorne smiled warmly as Sophia walked through the front doors. “You made it.”
Sophia smiled warmly for her best friend. “Of course I did…” She hurried forward and the two embraced. “Although, I do apologize for my lateness.”
“Let me guess,” Helena mused. “Your parents are the cause.”
Sophia looked pointedly at her friend. “They merely wished to ensure that I was dressed appropriately, and to confirm their expectations of me this evening.”
“Such as?”
“The usual,” Sophia said simply. “They were not thrilled that I was attending on my own, and they just needed further confirmation that –”
“Your best friend would not ruin your reputation,” Helena cut her off. “Or is it my husband who they fear will cause havoc?”
Sophia waited for her friend to finish with her jokes. Only once she was sure that she had, did she speak. “They are cautious, is all. I cannot blame them for it. That they let me come at all is more than I could hope.”
Helena bit into her lip and Sophia could see the argument forming behind her eyes.
She and Helena had been best friends since they were girls, a strange pairing many said, as Helena was far more outspoken and rebellious than Sophia could ever hope to be.
That wasn’t to say that she was the type to cause trouble, just that she wasn’t nearly as concerned about the opinion of others as some were.
And more than once, Helena saw it as her duty to try and coax Sophia from out of her parents’ controlling embrace. She was never too forceful with it, nor was she assertive. She was merely… suggestive in her efforts.
“We best be getting on with it then,” Helena said as she snatched at Sophia’s hand. “You are the last to arrive.”
Sophia breathed a sigh of relief, glad that for once Helena did not see the need to push the issue. But then she started and her stomach dropped as shame flooded her.
“I am?” She pulled back and looked across the foyer toward the dining room. “Oh, I did not mean to keep everyone waiting.”
“It is quite fine.”
She grimaced. “Should I apologize? Mother always said, to be late is one thing, but to be late and pretend as if you are not is –”
“It is fine, Sophia,” Helena laughed and pulled on Sophia to follow her. “At least it will be, lest you continue to dally. Now, come, as I said…” She winked. “Everyone is waiting on you.”
Sophia was tragically embarrassed about her lateness.
Worse was that this was an evening she had been looking forward to for some time, as it was a chance for her to get out of the manor and away from her parents’ watchful eye.
Although Sophia was not one to act out when her parents weren’t around, it still brought some relief to not be judged for everything she did.
When she was led into the dining room moments later, Sophia did her best to appear remorseful. There were ten people seated around the large table, and she offered them each a forgiving smile that she hoped…
Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she stopped dead in her tracks.
“Sophia…” Helena came in beside her. “Is something the matter?”
It was the Duke of Rothbury… again. He was seated at the end of the table, to the right of Helena’s husband, Lord Alexander the Duke of Hawthorne, having been chatting happily with him until Sophia walked into the room. But the moment she entered, their chatting ceased, and he looked right at her.
His amber eyes lit up at the sight of her, and that same coy smile he had worn the last time they spoke took his lips.
His hair was typically messy. His clothes were a little worn for someone of his station.
And the way he sat was relaxed, leaning back in his seat as if he was a drunkard in the middle of a tavern.
“I…” Sophia composed herself. “No, sorry, I am quite fine.”
Helena eyed her with worry. “You are certain?”
“I am.” She smiled assuredly. “Now, where am I sitting?”
She was aware of the Duke watching her as she was led into the room. He was not the only one, as all the guests took note of her arrival. She smiled an apology at them and said in hushed tones how sorry she was for being late, just as she was sure to not look at the Duke once.
He watched her the whole while, and Sophia’s only reprieve was in the feigned hope that she would be seated at the other end of the table so that she would no nowhere near the Duke throughout their meal.
Typically, there was no such luck.
“You know His Grace?” Helena asked as she directed Sophia into the seat across from the Duke.
“We know each other quite well,” the Duke said with humor. “Miss Sophia, it is lovely to see you again. Tell me, how goes your musical aspirations?”
She felt a ripple up her spine and her hair stood on end. She knew that he was making fun of her, but she would not give him the satisfaction of showing it.
“Very well, Your Grace, thank you for asking.” She sat down and settled herself in her seat.
“I am glad to hear it. Perhaps we will have a chance to witness it again this evening?”
“Oh, I doubt that,” she said simply. “I would hate to ruin your evening.”
He laughed. “And why would that be the case?”
“A refined ear such as your own, I am sure that anything I play will only pain you.” She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes.
In response, the Duke grinned in a way that brimmed with mock amusement. She tried her best to be polite, but he could see that he was getting to her.
Stay calm, Sophia, give him nothing and he will grow bored.
Once she was seated, wine was served, of which Sophia did not partake as she had been raised not to drink unless in celebration. With the wine came the first course, and she was happy to have that to focus on.
“You’re not drinking?” the Duke asked across the table.
“I am not,” she said as she focused on her food; it was a leek and pea soup, too hot to eat immediately, she took a spoonful and blew on the lip.
“That’s a shame,” he sighed as he had a sip of wine.
“An artist as yourself, I would have thought you’d enjoy a glass or five…
” He laughed and had another sip. “After all, I find that the best art is created when one is given the chance to switch off their brain and work from the…” He was looking right at her. “… heart.”
“Perhaps,” she said without looking. Her cheeks were burning though, and she wished he would leave her alone. “When it comes to music, however, I find a clear head is preferable.”
“What of other types of art?” he asked immediately.
She frowned and very nearly looked up but forced her attention on her soup. “Such as?”
“Painting, for example,” he said. “Sebastian…” He turned to address the host. “You used to enjoy painting, did you not?”
Sebastian pulled his attention from his food and frowned at the question. “As a youth, I was known to covet the brush. Why do you ask?”
“It is a debate Miss Sophia and I are having.”
“Not a debate,” Sophia corrected, a little more sharply than she wanted to. “Merely a discussion.”
“Discussion or no, my claim is that the best art comes from moments of… not divine intervention,” he chuckled. “But from those moments where one lets go of proclivities and allows passion and feeling to take over. Don’t you agree?”
Sebastian considered the question. “It depends on the art. My dear wife is the writer, perhaps she has a better view on these things.”
“No need for that,” Sophia said with relief. “In my opinion, great art needs precision and exactness. Music especially.”
“But what of raw emotion?” the Duke continued as he had more wine. “Surely, that is where magic is created?”
Sophia shrugged and had a mouthful of soup. “Perhaps when you create anything worthy of praise, you can tell us how you did it, and we will assess.”
She had not meant to say it. She had tried so hard to keep her lips tight and her emotions to herself. But the Duke’s constant pressing had forced her hand, and before she could help herself, she’d snapped.
Her eyes widened when the words left her tongue and she very nearly apologized. The only thing that stopped her was the delight shown in the Duke’s expression. He could not have looked more pleased.
“I will remember that,” he chuckled. “But the same to you.”
“What…” She looked away, her cheeks flushing red as she felt him watching her. “What do you mean?”
“If you let your hair down just once, be sure to let me know the result…” He smirked as he took another sip of wine. “The result of such a thing…” Soft laughter. “Who knows what might happen.”
Sophia offered a sharp smile and then did everything she could to ignore the Duke for the rest of supper.
Which she managed to do, as he was pulled into further conversations, allowing Sophia to sit in silence and disappear. Not the way she envisioned spending the evening, but for the best. Too much more of the Duke and who knew what she might say.
Why do I let him get to me like that? Why do I care? He is wrong, and he knows he is wrong. What does it matter what a man who has created nothing thinks about art… or me, for that matter.
When supper ended, Sophia could not have been more relieved… that was until Helena reminded her that they would be having drinks in the drawing room.
“Oh… I really should be getting home…” Sophia looked toward the foyer as if she meant to escape.
“Nonsense.” Helena took hold of her arm and dug in. “Stay for a little longer, Sophia. I have hardly had a chance to speak with you.”
Her gaze followed the other guests as they wandered toward the drawing room, and among them she found the Duke, who was sure to look over his shoulder and flash his eyes when he saw her watching.
“Perhaps for a few minutes,” she found herself saying. Which surprised her. If anything, she should have turned and fled, but when she saw the Duke… I am not even sure what I feel.