Chapter 17 #2
Betsy had tried to persuade her to stay in her room for longer to recover, but Sophie had insisted on walking with the baron. Since Nicholas was so obviously not an option for marriage, her connection with the baron meant more now than ever.
She had to secure him.
“Are you well?” The baron asked, his forehead furrowing in concern.
Sophie drew in a shaky breath. “I’m afraid I ruined one of my favorite dresses.”
It was the best excuse she’d been able to think of for her red-rimmed eyes and miserable demeanor.
His expression eased, his mouth working on one side. “I’m very sorry to hear that, but at least you have an excellent excuse to order a new dress upon your return to London.”
“That’s true.”
He escorted her through the main entrance and down the front steps. They walked briskly, but not so quickly that she had to huff and puff in order to keep up. As they passed the fountain, she paused to admire the way the sunlight glinted on the water.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
She turned to the baron and found him looking at her. Her stomach fluttered. She got the impression he wasn’t talking about the fountain. Unable to make herself reply, she simply nodded.
They continued on. He guided her through the fields, dodging uneven areas of ground, and continued on farther than she’d taken the horses with Nicholas the day before.
As they walked, they chatted about how unusually hot the season was, how well they knew the other guests, and their favorite things about the country.
Baron Sylvestor enjoyed the early mornings. Sophie did not, although she could tolerate them if necessary.
Baron Sylvestor loved waking to the sound of birdsong. Sophie agreed.
They both enjoyed riding and walking.
It should have been a match made in heaven, so why did it leave her feeling so dull?
He was nice company—there was no denying that—but he didn’t set her soul on fire. She didn’t long to feel his hands on her skin or wonder what he might taste like.
It was a disaster.
When the pond came into view, it was just as pretty as he’d claimed. The surface of the water gleamed and lapped gently at the shore. Clusters of water lilies covered parts of the surface, and a weeping willow shaded a small wooden bench seat.
Baron Sylvestor led her to the seat, and she set her parasol down, grateful for the shade. The sun was lovely, but it was rather intense.
Betsy joined them, and they sat there for a while, enjoying the scenery and the birdsong, until Sophie began to fidget. She had never been particularly good at sitting still.
Surveying the shoreline, she noticed that most of the stones were worn smooth and relatively flat.
“Do you know how to skip stones?” she asked the baron.
He chuckled. “I dedicated far too much of my boyhood to perfecting the art. And you, my lady?”
She grinned. “I do well enough. Would you like to see who can get the most skips?”
“That hardly seems fair. I’m sure I’ve had more opportunity to practice than you have.”
“Then you have no reason to fear the competition,” she teased.
He ducked his head in acknowledgement. “Do I earn a boon if I win?”
Her breath stuttered, but she schooled her features. “What sort of boon?”
He turned toward her, his bright eyes warm as he studied her. “Perhaps the promise of a dance at the soonest opportunity would suffice.”
Her stomach soured. It would be a sweet gesture, but it didn’t feel right. “That seems fair. And if I win?”
“Then you may claim whatever boon you see fit, as long as it’s within my power to provide.”
Very neatly dodged. He hadn’t committed to anything. But then, he didn’t expect her to win, so he probably thought it wouldn’t matter.
She stood and made her way down to the pond.
She fossicked in the stones until she found one that had the right heft and felt good in her hand.
She straightened, bent her elbow, and tried to recall the exact flicking motion her wrist should make to get maximum skips.
It had been a while since she’d done this.
She flicked the stone, and it skimmed across the pond surface twice before disappearing beneath the surface of the water, leaving only a ripple in its place.
“Best of three?” she asked, well aware that two skips wouldn’t win her anything.
He laughed. “That’s fine with me.”
He went next, managing three skips on his first attempt.
Sophie took longer to prepare the second time, casting aside several stones before selecting the best one.
It skipped three times.
Baron Sylvestor’s stone skipped thrice as well.
“One point to me, and one draw,” he said.
Sophie bent her knees this time, focusing hard. She squinted at the pond. If one could move stones through power of will, she’d certainly win. Alas, no such thing was possible, and the stone skipped three times once more.
Baron Sylvestor rolled up his shirtsleeves and made a show of biting his tongue in concentration.
His stone skipped four times.
The wind blew his hair in his face, and he brushed it aside, grinning widely. “I win.”
Drat. She shouldn’t have been so confident when she was out of practice. “So you do.”
They didn’t stop, though. They skipped stones for a while longer, and eventually, Sophie got the four count that she was aiming for.
As they headed back, she used the parasol to shield herself from the sun again, but she feared that she had already spent too much time exposed. Her cheeks would no doubt be pink, and her mother wouldn’t miss the chance to comment.
As they wandered side by side in companionable silence, the baron cleared his throat.
“I’m not asking this in a formal capacity,” he said, his tone mild, his gaze fixed ahead. “Your answer won’t constitute a commitment. But are you open to the idea of a marriage between us?”
Sophie’s mouth went dry, and a hollow pit opened in her gut. She hadn’t expected this question. At least, not yet.
Perhaps she should have, though. She’d allowed herself to be distracted by Nicholas, and now she was caught off guard and uncertain how to respond.
“I… I am, but as you said, I can’t make any sort of commitment without my parents’ permission.”
She’d have it. She had absolutely no doubt of that. But she also couldn’t bring herself to say yes without leaving room to escape.
“I completely understand,” he replied with an easy smile.
She tried to smile back. She didn’t want to lock herself into a marriage with him, but he was undeniably the best of her options.