Chapter 15 #2
'Have you recovered your temper now? Do have a closer look at my desk and see if there's something else you wish to throw at me.'
His voice was even, if she didn't know him so well even after so short a time, she'd think he wasn't going to take the matter further. He was toying with her; knew she was frightened by what he might do next and this incensed her a second time.
She stood up and with slow deliberation turned to examine the items on his desk. There was a large leather-bound ledger which would do perfectly. This time she used both hands to pick it up, adjusted her hold and was about to turn and throw it at his smug face when he removed it from her grip.
'I think not.' He replaced the book on the desk and then stepped away.
Now she was confused. She'd expected him to grab her by the shoulders and shake her vigorously and this had been his opportunity.
'I think our conversation can be postponed for now, Sofia. I shall overlook your appalling behaviour this time. There will not be a second. Do I make myself clear?'
'I believe that you do, sir. I should apologise, but I won't. I'm not sorry that I threw the inkwell at you – you deserved it. And as for postponing our conversation, I don't agree to that either.' She sat down before her legs gave way; he didn't look impressed by her audacity.
He was tense, seemed twice the size, his eyes had darkened to almost black. In that moment she knew if she antagonised him a third time then he'd unleash his fury. Despite being aware that things were on a knife edge she never for a second thought that he would physically punish her.
He exhaled slowly and she watched his muscles relax. She drew a shaky breath knowing that the danger was past – for the moment.
'God damn it, Sofia, if we continue to behave like this when in each other's company, I believe I'll not survive until September.'
'You said that you wouldn't swear but you continue to do so with practically every sentence you utter. I said I wouldn't deliberately antagonise you but I continue to do so. I think this demonstrates perfectly, James, that we cannot marry and live through the experience.'
'I suppose I must return to my apartment and change. I can hardly parade around the place as I am.'
She was about to argue but he shook his head.
'No, I don't think you quite understand what almost happened. Do not push your luck, Sofia, let me recover my composure or believe me you'll bitterly regret not having done so.'
She remained mute and let him go. His threat hung in the air, weighing her down. Physically hurting somebody was a dreadful thing to do but there were also, almost worse, punishments that could be handed out that would hurt her more.
He could insist she remained in her room, forbid her to ride, insist that she had no interaction with her sisters or Annabel, not allow her to see his dogs – the list was endless as he was the master of this house and could do as he wished.
That was how the world was arranged – the men had all the power and women had none.
She couldn't face an interrogation by Colette or Annabel right now and didn't know where to go to be alone and had no one to offer her comfort. The dogs under the desk thumped their tails contracting her attention.
It wouldn't hurt to sit with them for a while, she dropped to her knees and shuffled under the desk until she was wedged in between them. They curled around her offering her the comfort she so desperately needed. She'd not felt so wretched since dear Mama had passed away.
It was fortunate that his desk was immense as this meant there was more than enough room for her and the dogs to get comfortable.
The fact that she was wearing a new gown didn't bother her.
She'd always wanted to have an indoor dog, but her father had forbidden it.
She'd do anything to remain friends with these two wonderful creatures.
'I don't know how you put up with him, boys, he's a very difficult man. I suppose being born to such high estate, to know all his life that he was to inherit so much, has made him the way he is. My strange upbringing has done the same for me.'
Othello licked her chin and Caliban made himself available as a very comfortable pillow.
She hadn't meant to fall asleep, had intended to just sit with them for a few minutes, but inevitably did so.
Always when she was emotionally fraught, had suffered a disappointment or disaster she fell asleep in order to recover.
From a distance she heard a voice but ignored it. Then she was gently pulled from beneath the desk and settled somewhere more comfortable than the floor. She kept her eyes closed, was neither awake nor asleep, but somewhere in between.
As she was falling into a deep restorative slumber, she was almost certain she felt the brush of lips on hers and that she heard someone say that he loved her.
She jerked awake not sure what had woken her.
For a moment she was disorientated, quite sure she'd fallen asleep with the dogs and yet now she was on a sofa.
The knocking continued but now she was wide awake she realised it wasn't on the door of the room she was actually in so she'd no need to get up and answer it.
She didn't recognise the sofa or the chamber, it was nowhere she'd been before. She stood up, shook out the creases in her gown and looked around for her slippers which somehow she'd lost.
They weren't mislaid, they were waiting for her on a footstool close to the sofa. Someone had also placed a hairbrush and a hand mirror – both exquisitely carved heavy silver - beside them.
It was going to take her a while to rearrange her hair which had tumbled about her shoulders. First, she pushed her stockinged feet back into her slippers and then began to restore her appearance. As soon as she got this done, she was eager to discover exactly where she was.
She knew that it must have been James who'd moved her here. What she'd thought were dreams were reality. He'd kissed her lips and told her that he loved her. Did this change how she felt about him?
Gentlemen were a closed book to her; was it possible that he'd truly fallen in love within an hour of meeting her?
She brushed her hair with the beautiful brush wondering to whom it belonged. With each stroke she became calmer, doing it reminded her of the times when her beloved mother had done this for her.
James was a dangerous man, it would be so easy to fall under his spell, put aside her reservations about his character and make the betrothal genuine.
She might be inexperienced, know little about the polite world, but she did know being married to such a formidable person would mean she'd likely have no independence at all.
Her life would be wonderful, no worries of any sort, she'd have his children, run his house, and accompany him to events. Why was she hesitating? She was on the verge of reciprocating his love, but to marry him would mean she'd no longer be herself.
If he was an ordinary gentleman, then it would be so much easier to decide.