Chapter 23
When Sophie met Nicholas’s gaze across the garden, he grinned and winked at her. Her insides fluttered, and her heart danced a happy little jig. She glanced around, hoping that no one had noticed.
She was sitting underneath a tree at an outdoor table with several other ladies, who were playing whist. She was considering asking them to deal her in for the next hand when a shadow fell over the table, and she looked up.
Baron Sylvestor stood over her, silhouetted by the sun. It was the hottest day they’d had all week, and she was, frankly, overheated. It was the kind of weather where one was inclined to lie on the ground in the shade and refuse to move unless cold lemonade was offered as an incentive.
The baron smiled down at her—or at least, she thought he did, but his features were masked by harsh shadows because of the way he blocked the sunlight. “Good afternoon, Lady Sophie.”
She rose and curtsied to him. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
He offered her a bow in return. “I’m glad to have caught you. You’ve been so busy over the past couple of days. I never seem to have the opportunity to find you at rest.”
“Yes. Well.” She fussed with her skirt, avoiding eye contact because she didn’t want him to realize that she had made a point to be wherever he wasn’t. “There are so many entertainments at Nunhaven, and the weather has been conducive to trying them all.”
“That there are.” He reached for the end of his sleeve, as if he wanted to roll it up.
She wouldn’t be surprised if he did. He might be even hotter than she was in those shirtsleeves.
“Speaking of which, now that I have been fortunate enough to find you when you aren’t otherwise occupied, would you like to join me for a walk to the pond? ”
Sophie opened her mouth to make an excuse—what it would have been, she wasn’t quite sure, as he went on before she was able to.
“I’ve arranged for a rowing boat so we can go out on the water. Portions of the pond are shaded by trees on the bank, so I thought it might provide a welcome respite from the heat.”
“That’s… very thoughtful of you.” How on earth was she supposed to evade what was obviously a well-planned way to get her alone?
“I’m afraid I’m reluctant to leave the shade.
From memory, it’s quite a walk to the pond, and I burn easily.
” Struck by brilliance, she added, “Miss Bloombury has been enjoying the sun. Perhaps she might like to accompany you in my place.”
On the other side of the table, Lady Wembley cleared her throat. “I’m afraid that Miss Bloombury’s chaperone is otherwise engaged today, so that won’t be possible.”
Drat.
Lady Carlisle reached down beside herself and picked up the parasol she had used to shield herself from the sun during the short walk from the manor to the table. “You may take my parasol. It will protect you from the sun and help keep you cool.”
Just like that, Sophie had no excuse.
She took the parasol from her mother and gave her a tight smile. “Thank you.” She turned to Baron Sylvestor. “My maid is over there with the others. Give me a moment, and I’ll fetch her.”
He nodded. “Take all the time you need.”
She headed toward the cluster of maids. One of them nudged Betsy, who looked over at Sophie, then got up from where she was sitting on a blanket on the grass and walked to meet her.
“We are going on a stroll to the pond with Baron Sylvestor,” Sophie said.
Betsy winced. “It’s awfully hot.”
Sophie held up the parasol. “Apparently, that’s what this is for. Will you join me under it?”
At least that would both protect Betsy and keep things from getting too intimate with the baron.
“If that’s your wish.”
Together, they rejoined Baron Sylvestor.
Sophie looked around for Nicholas and found him watching her, the corners of his mouth turned down.
She met his eyes and tried to silently convey that she was doing this because she had no choice.
She wasn’t sure whether he received the unspoken message, but he tilted his head in acknowledgement.
Baron Sylvestor led Sophie through the gardens, past the manor, and toward the pond. Sophie kept Betsy under the parasol with her so that when they had to pass through a gap in the hedgerows, the baron was forced to go first, leaving space between them.
They started across a field along the path hugging its edge. It must have been somewhere around here that Sophie and Nicholas had ridden their horses previously, but her spatial awareness had never been good, and she couldn’t be certain if they were in the same place or just somewhere similar.
“It’s all very green,” she said as she gazed at the horizon. Everything around them was either trees or grass, so she felt justified in that statement.
“I love it,” Baron Sylvestor said. “Just wait. I know you’re aware of how beautiful the pond is to look at, but going out on it will be quite an experience.”
As they passed from one field into the next, the trail deviated from the edge of the land to the center. Unfortunately, that meant less shade from surrounding trees.
“It isn’t too much further,” he assured her
Sophie scowled. She remembered exactly how far it was, and while she liked the outdoors, there were appropriate times and places for long walks such as this, and the height of the afternoon on the hottest day of the year certainly wasn’t the most appropriate choice.
He must have caught a glimpse of her expression because he laughed. “It’s not that bad. I promise, it will be worth it.”
“I certainly hope so.” The words sounded teasing, but she meant them.
Finally, the pond appeared up ahead.
The massive willow tree towered over the seat, immersing it in shadow, but the rest of the pond shimmered in the sunlight. The sun must have risen higher since he’d first arranged for a boat to be brought out, because there wasn’t much shade at the edge of the water at all.
Sophie was glad to see that the boat was relatively new, so she didn’t have to worry about leaks or about dirt getting on her dress. As they reached the shore, she motioned to the seat beneath the tree.
“Betsy, you may as well wait there. We’ll be within view the whole time.”
Betsy glanced longingly at the seat and then back at Sophie. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be remiss in my duty.”
“Quite sure.” There was no sense in both of them cooking beneath the sun for no reason.
“Very well, my lady.”
Sophie kept the parasol, since Betsy wouldn’t need it, and Baron Sylvestor quickly claimed her free arm. He walked her down to the water’s edge, where he was forced to release her so that he could tug the moored boat closer to the dry stones.
Sweat dripped down the backs of her legs, and she was tempted to hike her skirt up and wade into the pond. If it had been Nicholas with her rather than the baron, she might have done so.
The baron—and really, oughtn’t she know his first name by this point?—unmoored the boat and held onto the side of it with one hand while extending the other to her. She took it and climbed as gracefully as she could into the rowboat.
There was a small wooden seat at each end, so she sat on one, and he gave the boat a push before jumping in and sitting on the other. He used one of the oars to propel them into deeper water and started rowing.
His shoulders and arms strained against his shirt with each movement, and Sophie felt for him when she noticed the fabric sticking. She was far too hot even without exerting herself, so she couldn’t imagine that working up a sweat like he was would be very pleasant.
“Do you think it’s really going to continue getting hotter?” she asked, for the sake of conversation.
“Lord, I hope not.” He wiped his forehead on his shirt and grimaced. “I’m not built for the heat.”
“I enjoy the warmth, but there is such a thing as too much of it.”
“You could dip your hand in the water,” he suggested.
She leaned over the side of the boat to see how clear and deep the pond was, and the boat rocked to the side. Startled, she jolted upright. “Sorry! I didn’t realize it would do that.”
He grinned, but then it faded. “Lady Sophie, I’m sorry if asking this is overstepping, but have I done something to upset you?”
Oh no.
Sophie squirmed and looked anywhere other than at his open, friendly features. “Of course not. What would make you ask that?”
He sighed and stopped rowing, allowing them to drift on the water’s surface. “Sophie, you must know that I enjoy your company. You’re lively and interesting, and you gave me to understand that you might return my regard.”
“I….”
She didn’t know what to say.
He tried to meet her gaze.
She evaded him.
He sighed again and leaned forward as much as he could within the confines of the boat. “I understand that it could be construed as a move backward to shift from an earl’s household to a baron’s household, but my family is wealthy, and besides, you didn’t strike me as being the mercenary type.”
“I’m not!” she snapped, suddenly extremely aware of the sun beating down on her, the tightness in her chest, and the hardness of the wood under her bottom. “After a certain level, all wealth is more or less the same. All I want is a comfortable life.”
And love.
Not that she’d mention that.
He nodded, his jaw set. “So why are you avoiding me? All I can think of is that I must have said or done something untoward.”
He looked so torn that her heart ached. Drat. She was going to have to admit the truth.
“I’m sorry. You haven’t done or said anything wrong, and I did genuinely believe we’d make a good match.”
“But?”
She drew in a deep breath. “But my affections are engaged elsewhere.”
Comprehension dawned, and his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “Mr. Nicholas Blackwell?”
She didn’t answer his question with words, but she was sure that he could see the truth written on her face. She’d never been a very good liar.
He scoffed. “Then you’re foolish. However smitten he might act, Blackwell is not the marrying kind.”
Uncertainty lanced through her, but she forced herself not to react. It hurt to hear her own concerns echoed back at her with such vehemence, but she had to trust Nicholas.
She knew his reputation as a rogue, and she loved him anyway. She had to believe that his intentions were pure and that he’d marry her as he’d promised.
Remember the plan. Wait until the end of the house party. Elope. Retreat from society until next season.
She wasn’t living in a fantasy world. She and Nicholas had agreed to a course of action.
He wouldn’t let her down.
She raised her chin defiantly. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I never intended to do that, and I feel terrible about giving you misguided hope. My only defense is that I didn’t realize Mr. Blackwell was sincere in his attentions.”
That wasn’t quite the truth, but it was close enough.
“However,” she went on, not prepared to let him make her feel more guilty than she ought to. “You and I have no formal understanding, so it’s not your place to weigh in on my arrangements with anyone else.”
At that, his jaw clenched even further. Surely his teeth would crack at any moment.
“I do know of at least one other woman at this house party who would gladly wed you, and there are many others back in London.”
His brow furrowed, and he cocked his head. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Sophie bit her lip, debating how much to say. She didn’t want to betray her new friend’s confidence, but she was afraid that Marianne was too reticent to say anything to him herself, and she truly thought there was the potential for a good marriage between them. They were both so good-natured.
“Suffice it to say that there is another unmarried lady at Nunhaven—one who is pretty and sweet—who would be open to your suit.”
He blinked, staring into the distance, perhaps mentally running through the guests. When he refocused on her, there was a strange look in his eyes. “Are you referring to Miss Bloombury?”
“I’ve said all that I can.” Let him take it from there if he wanted to. “I would like to return to the manor now, please.”
He was a decent man, so Sophie was certain he’d only thought of getting her alone so that they could talk properly, but the effect was that he’d trapped her with him on the pond with no way out other than diving into the water if he didn’t row her back.
It wasn’t unreasonable of him to question the change in her, and, while he was frustrated, he wasn’t displaying much of a temper, so she wasn’t desperate enough to swim to safety, but she also would prefer to escape the awkwardness of this situation as soon as possible.
The baron flopped back, rocking the boat wildly. “I’m afraid it would be best if we take our time. If we return too quickly, rumors might start about us having had a disagreement and we hardly need more cause for gossip.”
“Then we’ll walk slowly.” She watched him carefully, looking for any sign that his temper might show itself.
“Fine. If you insist.” He maneuvered himself upright and reached for the oars. “Just remember that I’m trying to protect you as well as myself.”
“I know.” Her voice was small. She felt quite chastened. She’d never meant to lead him on, but that was the end result, and it made her feel like one of the sharper society misses she’d never liked.
He rowed the boat over to the side of the pond, then clambered over the front and guided it more fully onto the shore. When he offered her his hand, she took it, and he helped her onto the stones without wetting her feet.
“Is all well?” Betsy asked, rising from the seat, her gaze flitting between them.
“Yes, of course,” Sophie lied.
The walk back to Nunhaven Manor was excruciating. Neither of them seemed to know what to talk about. Sophie rested the parasol on her shoulder and was glad for Betsy’s steady presence at her side.
When they reached the manor, Baron Sylvestor bowed to her and stalked around the side of the building, heading to rejoin the others in the garden. Sophie, on the other hand, made her way inside. She needed a tall glass of water and a moment to herself.
She asked Betsy to arrange for water to be brought to her bedchamber and then dismissed her. She wouldn’t be doing anything that she’d need a chaperone for.
Unfortunately, she’d only gone a few steps down the corridor when a door swung inward, and someone grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.