Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,16

Miss Miriam. Though he thought himself a reasonably intelligent fellow, Oliver’s wits proved quite slow at the moment, for though he recognized the young lady standing to one side of the room, it took another second or two or ten before his lagging thoughts recognized her.

Though not one to ascribe to the supernatural beliefs running rampant through the country, Oliver couldn’t help but wonder if she were a specter. Or had his addled mind brought the memory of her to life?

But no.

Miss Sophie was here.

Chapter 6

Fidgeting was a sign of ill-breeding. Sophie’s governess had always been emphatic on that score, but some moments simply required it. Standing in a quiet corner of the parlor, Sophie smoothed her skirts and shifted from foot to foot as she watched the parlor doorway. She did not know how her heart tapped such a rapid beat while her chest tightened, squeezing that fragile organ.

She ought to have spent more time on her toilette. There was no need to veer towards the ostentatious coiffures fashion dictated, but something more than her plain coil mightn’t have been amiss. A curl or a flower. Anything to enliven the unbearably plain style that generally suited her. Sophie cast a glance at Miss Caswell’s hair and marveled at the complexity of the style. The twists and intricacies of the braids were quite impressive, but there was an ease to it that belied the effort put into styling it just so.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sophie let it out in a flagellating sigh. There was no good to be had in attempting to catch the eye of a gentleman whose eye was well and truly caught by another. And there was some semblance of peace to be found in embracing that knowledge. The opportunity for her and him had passed, and now, they could meet as friends. Nothing more.

Movement from the doorway caught her attention, but it was yet another pair her parents’ age, and Sophie’s shoulders fell. They rose again when a younger set appeared at their heels, and Sophie spied a young lady with a plump shape that echoed the older lady’s figure. There, on the young lady’s arm, was Mr. Oliver Kingsley.

Sophie’s breath caught in her lungs, holding her still as she watched him lead the young lady—whom she supposed was his sister—into the parlor. Time had brought a maturity to his features that suited him, but otherwise, Mr. Kingsley remained unaltered from the last time she’d seen him. He shared his sister’s and mother’s hair, which looked merely brown at first glance, but when the candlelight caught it just right, a hint of reddish highlight stood out among the dark tresses. And he had his father’s broad shoulders and English pale complexion that defied coloring from the sun.

Mr. Kingsley strode forward, and Sophie fought to keep her hands steady as he approached. But he stopped at Miss Caswell’s side, and the lady took his arm as they shared a few whispered words and a laugh. Sophie wrung her hands, and she tucked them behind her where they could fidget in peace.

And then Mr. Kingsley’s gaze lifted to survey the room. His eyes settled on her, and Sophie smiled. She couldn’t help herself. The joy of seeing him in the flesh once more was too great to hide. But his gaze slid over her without recognition.

Sophie’s chest squeezed tighter, threatening to crush her heart. It was so silly. Why couldn’t she be a rational, reasonable person for once? They’d passed an evening together five years ago, and there was no reason the gentleman should recall it. Mr. Kingsley was engaging and admirable. Doubtless, he didn’t want for company. That evening meant nothing to him.

Then his eyes darted back to her, widening as his lips pulled into a slanted smile.

Mr. Kingsley moved as though to join her, but the butler appeared in the doorway and announced dinner, dispersing the waiting crowd as each gentleman searched for the lady whom Mrs. Nelson had requested he escort. Sophie sighed, but she had long ago learned to hide her disappointment behind a calm, collected mask of affability. Young Mr. Peter Dosett claimed her, leading her into the dining room as Sophie ignored the sight of Miss Caswell on Mr. Kingsley’s arm. Or attempted to ignore.

“It seems so strange that our paths would cross in the country,” said Mr. Dosett as he assisted Sophie to her seat.

“Does it?”

Mr. Dosett took his seat and sent her a wry smile. “From what your brother