Chapter Six #3
But as he climbed out of the carriage, license in hand, spring sun warm on his face, he knew he wasn’t fine at all.
This scheme may well prove to be madness for both of them.
However, it was too late now. He’d committed.
He was four days away from marrying a woman who had caught his imagination and attention more than anyone since Eleanor.
Was it only that he was lonely? Or was Sophia a woman he could love?
Was he falling for her? Had his feelings changed so quickly?
No, that was ridiculous. He was letting Davies’s romantic nature falsely sway him.
This was all for Amelia. He must remember that or risk humiliation or worse, heartbreak. He simply could not allow that to happen.
He walked toward the pond, drawn by Amelia’s laughter. As he approached, he saw Sophia tear off a piece of bread and hand it to the child.
“Not too close to the edge, love,” Sophia said, motherly caution in her voice. “Just toss it gently.”
Amelia threw the bread with great enthusiasm, sending it sailing through the air. It landed with a plop, and three ducks immediately converged on it, quacking loudly. Amelia shrieked with joy and clapped her hands.
“Uncle Henny.” She spotted him and ran over, grabbing his hand. “Come see. The ducks are eating. Miss Sophia says they’re hungry because it’s still cold at night.”
“Is that so?” Henry allowed himself to be pulled toward the pond’s edge.
Sophia looked up, brushing a stray curl from her face. Her cheeks were pink from the mild exertion and the spring air. “My lord. I didn’t hear the carriage. Did your errand go well?”
“It did.” He smiled. “All signed and sealed.”
“The Bishop had no questions?” Sophia asked.
“No, he wished us every happiness.”
“How kind of him,” Sophia said. “I do feel guilty—all this deception.”
“Yes, but remember why we’re doing it.” He gestured toward Amelia.
“Here, Uncle Henny.” Amelia thrust a piece of bread into his hand. “You try now.”
Henry knelt beside her, acutely aware of Sophia standing close by. “Like this?” He tossed the bread, and a large mallard paddled over immediately.
“Yes, yes. He loves it,” Amelia said.
“That duck’s a very quick learner,” Sophia said, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his stomach flutter.
They spent several minutes feeding the ducks, Amelia narrating each duck’s personality with great authority. “That one is greedy. And that one with the funny feathers is shy. And that one is the papa, I think, because he’s the biggest.”
“Very astute observations,” Henry said.
A particularly bold duck waddled right up to the bank, and Amelia squealed again, half-delighted, half-nervous. She stepped back quickly—directly into Henry. Without thinking, he steadied her with his hands on her small shoulders.
“He won’t hurt you,” Sophia said gently. “He’s just hopeful you have more bread.”
“Do we?” Amelia looked up at Henry.
“Let’s see what’s left.” Henry reached for the basket, his hand brushing Sophia’s as she handed it to him. Their eyes met, and she quickly looked away, a deeper color rising in her cheeks.
“Only a few pieces left,” he said, offering the basket to Amelia. “You should give them the last bits.”
Amelia carefully tore the remaining bread into smaller pieces, counting each one as she threw it. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.” She turned to Sophia triumphantly. “I counted to ten without any help.”
“You did beautifully,” Sophia said, and the pride in her voice was unmistakable.
Henry found himself watching the way she looked at Amelia with such genuine affection, the gentle patience in her manner, the happiness that seemed to radiate from her in this simple moment.
“Come along now,” Sophia said to Amelia. “We should let your uncle go inside and rest. It’s nearly time for your tea.”
“Can Uncle Henny have tea with us in the nursery?” Amelia asked.
Henry opened his mouth to decline. Surely he had correspondence to see to, estate matters to review, but Sophia spoke first.
“That’s up to your uncle, love. He may have important business.”
The word business bothered him. That was what his life had been for six years. Business. Duty. Responsibility. Everything neat and controlled and utterly empty.
He looked at Amelia’s expectant face, then at Sophia’s carefully neutral expression that didn’t quite hide her hope.
“I can spare an hour for tea,” he said.
Amelia cheered and grabbed his hand again, already chattering about the biscuits Mrs. Mills had made that morning. As they walked toward the house, Amelia ran ahead and Sophia fell into step beside him. “Do you think we should tell Amelia about the wedding?”
“Will she understand?” Henry asked.
“I think so. I don’t know what she’ll think. I hope it won’t confuse her.”
“You will tell her you’ll be her mother now,” Henry said. “And my wife. Keep it simple, perhaps?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Shall we do it at tea?”
“I cannot think of one reason we shouldn’t,” Henry said, patting his pocket where he’d tucked the marriage license. “We are official now.”