Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,29

see someone who finds joy in a thing regardless of whether or not she receives any praise or recognition for her efforts.”

Being seized by a fit of honesty, Sophie smiled at her painting and replied, “You give me too much credit, sir. A love of freedom is as much a motivator as my passion for nature. It is not untoward for a young lady to spend hours alone pursuing such interests nowadays, so rather than being shackled to my mother’s side, my studies provide a means by which to escape.”

The gentleman stilled, and though Sophie refused to look up from her work, she felt his gaze on her.

“I was delighted to meet your sister last night.” It was the first subject that flew into Sophie’s mind, and she latched onto it. “Lily is exactly as you described her.”

“You remember that?” A glance in Mr. Kingsley’s direction showed an expression to mirror his surprised tone.

Sophie chided herself for being so forthright and hurried to cover the fact that she had thought of Mr. Kingsley and their evening together many times.

“It is impossible to forget such enthusiasm,” she said, mimicking his earlier words.

Mr. Kingsley broke into a grin. “Lily can be a pest at times, mind you, but I adore her.”

“Any self-respecting little sister is a pest at times. It is a requirement of the position.”

“Spoken like a true little sister,” he replied with a laugh.

“I do my best, though I fear my brothers do not enjoy the requisite annoyances as you do.” She’d meant it to be a lighthearted reply, but Mr. Kingsley was silent. It was several moments before he spoke again.

“Are you mistreated?”

Sophie gave a start, her eyes flying to Mr. Kingsley. “Not at all. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

The tightness in his shoulders eased, and Mr. Kingsley picked at the blades of grass in his hands. “There is a sadness to your voice when you speak of your family, and I feared the worst.”

Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Sophie turned back to her work.

“They do care for me in their way…” Sophie was uncertain how to describe it. “However, I often feel like a stranger among them. Not unwanted per se, but…”

She searched for the word. “Misunderstood.”

Shrugging it off, she focused on her sketch. “I would not have you thinking I am miserable. My family may think my hobbies are silly and meaningless, but still, my parents allow me the freedom to pursue them.” Giving a false chuckle, she added, “Though I believe Mama allows it because she doesn’t know what to do with me, and it is easier to leave me be.”

What had possessed her to say such a thing? Sophie’s hands paused, her whole body stilling as she stared sightlessly at her painting.

“Miss Banfield…” Mr. Kingsley began to speak. His tone was so gentle and warm, and Sophie knew she ought not to have said such a thing.

Setting aside her paintbrush, Sophie held up the painting, examining it this way and that. “I suppose it will have to do for now, and we are expected back at the house.”

Mr. Kingsley’s brow furrowed, and a hint of disappointment entered his gaze at her diversion, but for all their claims of friendship, Sophie knew it was better this way. As much as her heart wanted to pour out its troubles to him, it was not her place to lay that burden on him. Mr. Kingsley was a kind gentleman, and she would enjoy their time together, but there was nothing more to it.

Shoulders dropping, he nodded at her as he assisted her in cleaning up her tools. “Your painting is finer than you give yourself credit for.”

“You are being kind.”

“You are being short-sighted.”

Sophie rose to her feet, brushing off her skirt and apron. “I suppose we shall just have to agree to disagree in this instance.”

But Mr. Kingsley met that with a challenging raise of his brows. “If you think I intend to listen to you denigrate your talent, you are very mistaken. I shan’t allow you to speak of my friend in such a manner.”

Grabbing the strap of her satchel, Sophie lifted it, but Mr. Kingsley took it from her before she could rest it on her shoulder. With a gallant bow, he motioned in the direction of Hardington Hall, and Sophie caught herself before she took his arm. Though she could use the uneven ground as an excuse to hold tight to him, Sophie knew better than to