her in a field of spring flowers, but he could never forgive her for leaving without a word. He couldn’t forgive the fourteen years of silence that followed or the rudeness now.
And to be honest, he didn’t want to.
Chapter Two
Sophia still sat in her filthy dress an hour later—although now at least she was dry—and cursed her rash behavior. She really should have sent word that she was returning to the village, perhaps then she could have continued directly to her brother’s home instead of waiting for him at the only inn in town. But the events of the past few weeks had seemed to happen so quickly and Matthew’s letter had arrived at a time when her future and direction were uncertain.
She had thought time in the country, away from the pressures demanded of her particular type of lifestyle, would help to return some form of balance even though the prospect terrified her. She should have followed her initial instincts and traveled to the coast or Bath, somewhere she didn’t have a history, somewhere a stranger with a made-up past could find her place.
Her former protector had offered her a little house in Dover, a place to rest and recuperate, but buried deep in sorrow, she had turned him down. She did not need charity. She yearned for safety, comfort and, most of all, security. The only option she had was to return to her first home, to the family and village she had fled.
Her turbulent thoughts drifted back to Blake. She had known their first meeting wasn’t going to go well, but she hadn’t envisioned it would go as badly as it had. Once upon a time they had been the best of friends, more. If only he knew the truth about why she had run away in the first place, he might have understood her anxiety. But she’d promised herself not to tell a soul. Not her brother and certainly not Blake. She could not handle the revulsion she knew would surge before any sympathetic emotion.
Where was he anyway? He hadn’t even offered refreshments. Perhaps he would ride out to her brother and deliver the message himself just to be rid of her all the quicker.
She smoothed her skirts, giving them a shake which loosened dirt all over the floor before the fire. A small smile of satisfaction lifted her lips.
Before she could have any more thoughts of how much dirt she could be rid of by jumping up and down, the door flew open, slamming against the wall behind it with a bang.
“Sophia?”
The tall man staring at her through eyes the color of her own didn’t wait for an answer to his question. He rushed forward and drew her into his arms as though fourteen years was only a number and not half a lifetime.
“Matthew, it’s so good to see you.” She tried to disguise the involuntary flinch that came whenever she was touched, but soon hugged him back.
“I can’t believe you came,” he said quietly, his voice muffled by her hair.
Was that relief or hesitation she heard? She pulled back, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“I’ve missed you,” he said when finally he released her.
She turned away from her brother. Deep emotion was not something Sophia could handle in that moment so when Blake entered the room, she was almost relieved.
Looking back to Matthew, she asked, “Is Violet with you?”
Now it was Matthew’s turn to look away. “I left her at the house. She is not feeling well today.”
Blake stepped farther into the room with what looked like panic written on his face. “She was well enough this morning. Should she be alone?”
Matthew glared at him before he turned back to Sophia, who watched the exchange with growing apprehension, although she tried to hide it. “She is not so happy that I am here, is she?”
“It’s not that. We hadn’t heard from you and the only spare room we have has been turned into the baby’s room. Violet, that is, we, thought you might be more comfortable here.”
The only sound to penetrate the sudden tension was the crackle of the fire. It was Blake who recovered first.
“What?” he said. “She can’t stay here.”
Matthew glared at him again. “This is an inn, is it not?”
Sophia shook her head and interrupted the argument. “I think it would be best for Violet if I return to London.” She gathered her skirts in her hands and turned toward the door. “I shouldn’t have come.”