Chapter Twenty #2
On that first, hideous night at the beginning of their unexpected betrothal, he had thought her pretty, despite everything else going on around them.
Her lips in a perfect circle of abject horror had still looked kissable, even though every fibre of his being knew that he would not kiss her.
Since then, she had somehow become lovelier.
It wasn’t just the way her dark curls desperately tried to escape from under whatever bonnet she wore.
Nor was it the way her mouth was so ready with a smile or the way her head tilted to the side when she was listening intently.
It wasn’t even the way her whole body shook with laughter when she was truly amused.
It was all of those things and more combined together to make her the loveliest woman of his acquaintance.
He pushed the door open wider so that he could step into the room. Turning at the sound, she smiled when she caught sight of him and his heart tripped over itself in its eagerness to get to her.
‘Sophia,’ he said, when he reached her side, his fingers aching with the effort not to reach out and run his fingers along the length of her jaw or to pull her into his arms.
‘Emily has just gone to see Arabella, but she said she will be back directly. Kate had to go and sort out something to do with Silas and a bucket of water. I hope I am not inconveniencing you by interrupting your day.’
‘Not at all. We were in the middle of a brotherly argument and so your arrival could not be more timely.’ He could see the question as to why they were falling out forming on her lips and he did not want to talk about it just yet. ‘What have you there?’ He gestured to her lap.
‘Ah, yes. I wanted to give this to you in person.’
She remained sitting, her hands still resting on the flat package.
‘Are you going to show me what is inside?’
‘I suppose I should, although now I am here in this grand room, I feel a little foolish.’ She stood, placing the parcel on the settee on which she had been sitting.
‘This room is an abomination to the senses. Anything you have brought with you will be an improvement.’
God, but her smile was delightful. Men should be fighting over themselves to ask her to marry them. It was surprising no one had fought duels over her in the past.
‘I have another Kissyfur drawing.’ She opened the parcel slightly and slid a sheaf of paper out, before handing it to him.
This time the drawing was not just of the bear-man she had created, but of the creature in a woodland setting surrounded by other animals.
The creation looked nothing like him and yet he could see hints of himself within it.
She’d managed to capture his hair exactly as it would look if he were leaping towards something.
He wasn’t sure how she had managed it, because he didn’t think he had leapt anywhere during the time they had known one another, or perhaps since he was a child, but he could tell it was based on him, nonetheless.
‘I am embarrassed to have sent you that book Freddie recommended; you are far more talented than you implied.’
‘That book was wonderful. I have always had a problem with drawing hands and now I think I have got it.’ She pointed hesitatingly towards the claws. ‘Not that these are the same as a human’s, of course, but I…’
‘They are superb.’
She ducked her head but not before he saw a fierce blush cover her skin. ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled.
‘There is no need to thank me for a compliment on your work. This is not merely dabbling with watercolours, Sophia; you have a real talent. Certainly as much as Albizzi, if not more so.’
She nodded once, twice, not seeming as happy with his words as she should be.
Christopher didn’t often ponder the way of the world, but he knew that if Sophia had been born a man, this talent would have been nurtured until she was a celebrated artist with a grand exhibition in her name.
As it was, he would be one of the only people to see her work, making him incredibly privileged.
‘There is something more.’ She bent down and picked up the parcel but paused before she could reach inside it.
‘Actually, now I come to think about this, I am not sure it is quite the thing. I went back, you see, and took the likeness, but I do not know if I have done it justice.’ Her words were tumbling over one another, not really making any sense.
Her skin was turning redder, as if she was truly embarrassed by what she had brought with her.
‘Do you know, I think it needs more work before you see it. I should not have brought it with me.’ She moved to put the parcel back down on the settee, but he caught it lightly between his fingers.
‘Did you bring this here to show me?’
She held her body still and for a moment he thought she would not answer, then she gave one, jerky nod.
‘I do not understand why you are so coy about it. Has someone criticised your painting in the past?’ Christopher was beginning to understand this about Sophia.
Visiting her family home was like stepping into a nest of demanding kittens.
Her sisters were mostly harmless, ridiculous plots notwithstanding, but they were not like Sophia.
They almost fell over each other to be the one who got to speak and did not appear to put much thought into it before blurting out whatever was on their minds.
Sophia was the exact opposite. She was thoughtful and pensive and if one of her sisters had said something negative about her drawing, then she would have taken it to heart, believing it to be the truth because she would always think before she spoke and she expected the same from others.
‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘No one has ever told me my drawing is bad, but…’ She forced a smile. ‘It does not matter. I am making more of this than I ought. I have made this whole thing awkward. It is nothing much. If you do not want to keep it, I will happily take it back. Please, take a look.’
Reaching into the parcel, he found a sheaf of thick paper inside. Gently, he tugged it out and held it up to see it better.
‘You know,’ said Sophia, hovering by his side, ‘now that I see it in the light, I realise how badly it misrepresents the original. I will take it back after all. I need to shade a bit around his feet and, do you see what I mean about the hands? It is an insult. I should never have…’ Her fingers closed around the edges of the paper as if she meant to tear it from his hands.
Christopher said nothing, because he couldn’t.
Sophia must have returned to the exhibition several times, because the drawing he held in his hands was of the boy who had reminded him of Sebastian.
She had not painted the rest of the scene from the original, but she had captured the likeness uncannily.
She had also changed some of the details.
While the artist’s boy had been blond, she had replaced the hair with dark strands to match him and the rest of his brothers.
It was such a strong likeness to the young Sebastian he had once known that it took his breath away.
‘Stop trying to take it away from me, Sophia.’ His words sounded stern when really, he wanted to fall to his knees and thank her. There were far too few images of Sebastian and none that really captured his essence and if she damaged it while trying to tug it from him, then he would be devastated.
She dropped her hands but did not step away from his side as he continued to stare at it. When he finally placed it on the table and turned to face her, he realised that her eyes were glistening, as if she were trying to hold back tears.
‘I have overstepped,’ she whispered. ‘I should never have done it.’
‘Sophia, I…’
A single tear fell and he reached up and wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. ‘I have absolutely no idea why you are upset.’
‘I feel foolish.’
He tucked an escaped strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘You will have to explain why to me, because this is the greatest gift I have ever received.’
‘Oh, no, that is going too far. I mean, look at all this.’ She gestured to the room at large, none of which held a candle to her drawing.
He should stop touching her, but some of her lovely curls were touching the backs of his fingers and his thumb was lightly pressed against the curve of her jaw. Instead of moving away from his touch, he was sure she was inching closer to him.
‘It only cost me the paper,’ she said softly, her fingers lightly grazing the back of his hand that rested against his thigh.
‘And your time,’ he said, turning his palm, holding himself still as she slipped her hand into his, their fingers interlinking.
Her skin against his was both a relief and a new type of torture.
He sensed that one wrong move would send her startling back and perhaps, he should let that happen; she was innocent, and he wasn’t.
But not touching her now would be a tragedy.
Besides, it was not as if he were ravishing her on the rug; somehow this gentle connection was more intimate.
‘I have lots of spare time,’ she said.
There was barely a breath of air between them. His whole body was aching to close the gap between them, to feel her flush against his body, but he didn’t move, the slightest grip on his mind holding firm as it battled against what he craved.
‘I will always treasure this, Sophia. For as long as I live this will be one of my most prized possessions. I shall have it framed and put in my room.’
‘Oh.’
She was gazing up at him, and it would be the work of nothing to lean down and press his lips to hers.
Her mouth would be soft. She had probably never been kissed before and coaxing a response from her would be delicious.
If she were less important to him, he might have done it.
But it would complicate everything, adding emotion to this already unusual arrangement, something that would hurt at least one of them.
So, he did the most painful thing he had ever done.
He stepped backwards, dropping his hold on her and letting his hand fall from her face.
‘Would you mind if we showed my other brothers?’ he asked into the strange silence.
‘Of course, you can show whomever you like. However, I should be off now. It does not look as if Emily and Kate are going to return anytime soon, so I would be grateful if you could pass on my goodbyes. I would wait for them, only I have an appointment at the modiste to finalise my outfit for the ball on Friday.’ Sophia appeared to be back to herself, no hint that a moment of something different had passed between them.
‘I wanted to wear my favourite blue dress, but as Marrisa pointed out, Lady Albrighton’s events are all about fashion and we have all had to get something new, otherwise we shall be judged and found wanting. ’
Somehow feeling he had taken a wrong turn, Christopher said, ‘I am sure you will look lovely in whatever you wear.’
‘Of course, that is a given.’
They both laughed at her joke. He was almost desperate for her to stay so that they could talk more, but she was already moving towards the door and before too long, she had gone, taking a piece of him with her. A piece he had not wanted to give.