silly to put so much thought into a few accoutrements, but even as she laughed at herself, she returned to the bed, cast aside the rejected shawl, and drew up the next.
This was a far better use of time than pacing the hallways, waiting for the hours to pass. Their appointment was still some time away, but Sophie could think of nothing else. Neither books nor drawing nor sewing proved diverting enough to distract her from the memories of the previous evening and the daydreams of the coming outing.
“Come in,” she called at the sound of a knock on her door, and a footman strode in with a bouquet in hand. Sophie fairly bounced to him, scooping up the flowers and holding them to her nose, the combination of scents filling her with such lightness that she feared she might float away.
Sophie scoffed at that bit of sentimentality. Of course, it didn’t change the fact that it was a perfectly apt description, but she hoped she wouldn’t turn into some ridiculous lovestruck lady who swooned at the very thought of her dashing young gentleman.
Snatching the proffered note, she dismissed the footman and broke the seal on the envelope. Her eyes flew through the missive, her shoulders dropping with each word, and she read it three more times before she fully grasped its meaning.
Dear Miss Sophie,
I fear I must beg your forgiveness. An issue has arisen that requires me to return to Essex immediately and will hold me there for the foreseeable future, which will make it impossible for me to honor our appointment. I do hope this does not cause you any distress, though I am disappointed we shan’t be granted the opportunity to explore Mackleford Hall’s gardens.
I thank you for your company last night. You made a bleak evening a delight, and I count myself blessed for having made your acquaintance.
Yours, etc.
O. Kingsley
With heavy footsteps, Sophie moved to her vanity and sat on the chair there, her eyes staring out at nothing and her hands clutching the note and flowers. The lightness in her heart evaporated as that sad organ shrank, leaving her both empty and heavy.
Theirs was a short acquaintance. Hardly a few hours. Surely, she should not feel such dejection over the loss of something so insignificant. But though her heart did not break, there was no denying Mr. Kingsley had left his mark, and Sophie wondered how long it would take to fade.
Chapter 4
Essex
Five years later
The train bumped and swayed, and Sophie moved with the carriage, giving it no heed as her eyes tracked the words in her book. Mr. Ephraim’s treatise on the flora and fauna of southeast England was not the most comprehensive or insightful work about native wildlife, but it did provide her with a hint of what to expect from the coming month.
The book flew out of her hands, and Sophie’s gaze darted to her brother. “Give that back.”
But the villain merely smiled and held it out of reach. “What will you give me for it?”
“The better question is what I will give you if you do not.” But no matter how she tried to grab at it, Allen kept a firm hand on the book. His finger was wedged between the pages, holding her place, but his dark eyes sparked with mischief.
“Please, do not lose my place, Allen!”
Sophie ought not to have spoken, for that only encouraged her brother to slip his finger free and shut the book with a decisive snap. Her shoulders slumped as he handed it back to her, leaving her to flip through the pages in search of her place.
“Your reading time is well and truly over,” said Mama.
“You know better, Sophie,” said Papa. “It is unhealthy to strain your eyes so.”
“And you always scrunch your face when you read,” added Mama. “It is giving you wrinkles.”
Relaxing her forehead, Sophie rubbed between her brows to loosen the crease there, willing it not to give credence to Mama’s worries. “I just need to find my place again, and I will put it away.”
“As you always say and rarely do,” mumbled Allen.
With quick movements, Sophie sorted through the chapters while wishing she could recall which she’d been in the midst of when a movement from across the carriage warned her Mama was reaching for it. Hands flying, Sophie threw her bookmark in as close as she could before the offending article was snatched from her a second time.
“Really, Sophie,” said Mama, handing the book to Papa, who tucked it