Chapter Fourteen
Dinner was as delicious as ever but a large lump in Sophia’s throat made it difficult for her to swallow.
Next to her, Christopher was shovelling food into his mouth as if he were a starved man who had never encountered food before.
After several bites, he would invariably compliment the food, the praise becoming more ridiculously lavish as the evening wore on.
His last one, ‘Goodness, this sauce is smoother than silk,’ made her wish stabbing someone with a fork were socially acceptable.
Not a single member of her family seemed to find his behaviour noteworthy.
Or at least, they were doing a good job of hiding it, and as subtlety was not something they normally employed, she had to believe they were as genuine in their reactions to him as they appeared.
Annie was nodding along, as if Christopher’s every utterance were wise.
Marrisa was gazing at him like he had hung the moon.
Even Papa, by far the most sensible person in the family aside from herself, was beaming at him.
Opposite Christopher, Robert was cutting into his roast chicken with neatly precise slices. He was nodding politely whenever Christopher spoke, but she didn’t miss the bemused looks he kept sending her way whenever Christopher was particularly absurd.
‘What brings you to town, Mr Harber?’ asked Christopher after rhapsodising about the accompanying wine for what felt like an eternity.
Robert’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. ‘I…’
‘Here to enjoy the rest of the Season, no doubt,’ prompted Christopher.
‘Of course,’ said Robert, his chicken falling from his utensil back onto the plate. His pale skin pinkened as some sauce splashed onto his cuff.
Christopher shifted on his seat, his gaze dipping to his plate as if embarrassed on Robert’s behalf. Or perhaps it was finally discomfort over his own behaviour. If he truly believed Robert was in London to win her hand, then it was unkind of him to draw attention to it.
‘Personally,’ said Christopher, some of the bombastic swagger leaving his voice, ‘I love the Season. There is so much to enjoy: the dancing, the riding in the park and… and… so on.’
He reached for his wine glass and took a long sip.
‘Indeed,’ said Robert. ‘Tales of how much you enjoy yourself reach us even out in the country.’
Christopher’s fingers tightened on his wine glass, the gesture so small, Sophia only noticed it because she’d been watching his hands. Although now that she thought about it, she had no idea why she was studying them intently.
‘Is that so?’ was all Christopher said in response.
‘Was it not you and your associates who raced to Brighton earlier this Season?’ Robert’s polite expression did not change, but there was an edge to his voice Sophia had never heard before.
Colour seeped from Christopher’s skin, his easy smile becoming fixed. ‘We did.’
‘I heard poor Lambert broke both his legs during that fun expedition. Less enjoyable for him, I would think.’
‘Regrettably, that is true.’ Christopher slowly placed his knife and fork back on his plate, his wide shoulders dipping slightly.
‘Is he back on his feet yet?’
Christopher straightened his napkin. ‘Lambert and I are not close confidants, so I…’
Robert adjusted the position of his plate, as the room fell into an unnatural stillness. Even Marrisa seemed to pick up on the change in atmosphere, leaning forward in her chair, her gaze flicking between the two men.
Before the dining room could descend into a desperate silence, Sophia asked, ‘How is your mother, Robert?’
‘Mother is well, thank you, Sophia. She sends you her best wishes, of course.’
Sophia wiggled her toes, her feet itching to get up and run from this hellish scene. ‘Will you take in the Albizzi exhibition while you are in town? I have heard wonderful things about the paintings on display.’
‘I should very much like to. As you know, Albizzi’s paintings are of particular interest to me. I find his detailed scenes outstanding.’ He paused, his gaze flicking between her and Christopher. ‘I should be honoured if you would accompany me.’
Oh. Was that proper? Could you ask an engaged woman to join you on an outing when her betrothed was sitting next to her? Not having been betrothed before, she was unsure of the etiquette, but it seemed in bad taste all the same.
‘We should be delighted,’ said Christopher before she could respond. ‘We planned to go on Thursday, did we not, my love? I do hope that day is convenient for you, Mr Harber.’
Robert made a sound that could have been taken either as consent or objection, and Sophia wished fervently that a hole would open up in the ground next to her so that she could jump into it.
‘Tell me, Lord Christopher,’ said Robert, ‘are you going to give up your racing and other… enjoyments, once you are married?’
Sophia rocked back in her chair, her skin burning. Robert had no right to question Christopher like this. She and Robert were old friends, yes, but this was the sort of question her father should be asking.
‘Yes,’ said Christopher immediately.
‘No,’ she responded almost as quickly.
‘No?’ Christopher turned to her, one eyebrow raised, no hint of playfulness in his eyes.
‘I would not want you to change yourself for me.’
The rest of the room fell away as she held his gaze.
She was only aware of the rise and fall of his chest and the way the candlelight reflected in his eyes.
He seemed to be searching her expression for something, and she held still, hoping he would read that she meant it.
Theirs may not be a real engagement, but she believed what she’d told him in the corridor.
She did not want him to make himself in any way different for her, whether it be for real or pretend.
He was fun and laughter and that was a rare gift indeed.
‘You cannot mean that.’ Robert’s voice cut through the moment. ‘How will he take care of you if both his legs are broken?’
‘He is an excellent whip,’ she answered, not taking her gaze from Christopher’s. ‘That would not happen.’
She should turn and look at the rest of the room, but it was impossible.
Christopher had told her that Robert would come for her once he learned of her engagement and it looked as if he was right.
She understood that Christopher was trying to put himself in a bad light to make Robert even more determined to rescue her from this disastrous proposal, but the reality of it was far worse than she could ever have imagined.
Watching and listening to Christopher make himself small for her was horrid.
Letting Robert insult him was even worse.
‘Well,’ said her mother, ‘I think it is time to leave the gentlemen to their port. Girls, we shall retire.’
Normally, this stage of the evening was a relief.
Sophia much preferred the relaxed atmosphere of the sitting room and the chatter of the women, who were often softer and kinder without men around, but tonight she had to force her legs into action to get her to leave.
Moments ago, she had wanted nothing more than to run away, but now it did not seem fair to leave either man with the other.
In the general noise of everyone getting to their feet, Christopher murmured, ‘All will be well. Do not worry.’
Unfortunately, his words had the absolute opposite effect.