Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,2
my word and hiding in the corners of the ballroom.”
“So, rather than throwing him over, you invaded my haven?” Sophie gave another indignant sniff at that, mimicking so thoroughly the haughty demeanor of those prickly society matrons who viewed the world with perpetual dissatisfaction.
Mr. Kingsley slanted her a look with a spark of humor gleaming in his eye. “I was stuck between the devil and the deep sea, as my uncle is wont to say, so I hope you will forgive my impudence.”
“That depends.”
Mr. Kingsley waited a moment before prompting, “On?”
Sophie attempted a gimlet eye, but she was grinning too widely to maintain the pompous facade. “Whether I am the devil or the deep sea in your analogy.”
With all the hubbub around them, no one noticed how strongly Mr. Kingsley laughed or Sophie’s responding one, but she was all too aware of the way his eyes danced and his face lit with the emotion. Mr. Kingsley may look ordinary at first, but joy sparked inside him, lighting up his features until Sophie was quite certain he was one of the most striking gentlemen in attendance. He was certainly the most entertaining.
“Miss Sophia,” he said with a very proper bow as the strains of the music came to their natural conclusion, “would you do me the very great honor of dancing with me?”
Though others had asked just such a question before, Sophie could not keep her cheeks from heating as her heart gave an extra thump inside her chest. “Certainly, Mr. Kingsley.”
Chapter 2
With great care, Mr. Kingsley led her to the dance floor, guiding her through without being jostled or bumped. The first measures were struck, and the pair launched into a quadrille. Passing between the other pair in their square, they wove around each other—though Sophie’s eyes remained fixed on Mr. Kingsley’s. Something in his gaze made her feel at home. Of course, it was foolish to feel such sentiments about a fellow she hardly knew. And yet Sophie couldn’t deny how comfortable she felt around him.
“And where do you hail from, Miss Sophia?” he asked when their part of the dance paused while the head couples moved through their steps.
“Are you truly going to ask such an uninspired question?” Heaven help her, Sophie had no thought as to why Mr. Kingsley inspired such teasing, but each retort was met with a twinkling smile, which only pushed her to greater lengths.
“If I am to learn everything there is to know about you, I must begin somewhere.”
Sophie’s breath caught. She searched Mr. Kingsley’s expression to see if he was as serious as he sounded, and her heart fluttered at the earnestness steeped in his gaze.
“My friends call me Sophie,” she said, near pinking at her boldness. Mr. Kingsley’s gaze held hers steady, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched her.
“Miss Sophie, then,” he murmured, and all fortitude fled her at the warmth in his tone. “And where does Miss Sophie hail from?”
And so began their conversation in earnest, broken by the occasional dance steps that pulled them apart. Yet each time they came back together, their conversation continued as though there’d been no interruption.
“Your family sounds wonderful,” she said as they came to stand side by side, waiting on the others in their set to complete their steps. “I envy you.”
Mr. Kingsley’s brows pulled together. “Though I adore my younger sister, I’ve often wished for a larger family like yours. Surely—”
Sophie blushed and waved her words away. “Forgive me, but I spoke out of turn.”
Mr. Kingsley’s hand brushed against hers in a feather-light touch, as though he wished to take hold of hers but rethought the prudence of the action. “Don’t brush your feelings aside, Miss Sophie. Words spoken out of turn are often the most truthful ones.”
Raising her head slowly, she met his eyes with a pinch of her lips. “I have brothers and sisters enough, but we have not the friendship and admiration you and your single sister clearly share.”
Sophie cast a glance towards the other dancers, spying one of her brothers standing far too close to his partner and whispering in her ear. Louis stared at Miss Rattenbury with undisguised admiration, and a weight settled in Sophie’s stomach; the admiration in Louis’s gaze was due to her dowry, but the young lady’s matching adoration was entirely earnest.
“I do not know why I am being so forthright with you,” she said, her cheeks blazing. “I am not usually so bold.”