is hardly necessary. I do know how to take a compliment.’
‘I used to think your eyes were the colour of sapphires, like your ring, but now I see the colour depends on your mood. Midnight blue when you are angry right through the blue of a summer’s day when you are happy.’
‘You are being foolish. Cease this blather immediately.’
He took a step closer. ‘I intend to keep paying you compliments until you show me that you know how to take them. I prefer your hair like this when it makes little ringlets of its own accord.’
Sophie wet her suddenly aching lips. Her entire being trembled. Where did he intend taking this game? Her dreams had been full of him lately but ever since the carriage ride, he had made no attempt to kiss her.
‘Thank you,’ she gasped out as he took another step closer, so close her skirt brushed his leg. Another step, and she’d be in his arms. What was worse, she wanted to be in his arms. She wanted to taste his lips again and see if they matched her memory of them.
‘At last my fiancée shows some sense.’ His eyes danced with a thousand different lights. ‘Shall I continue?’
‘No.’
He inclined his head and stepped backwards. ‘I bow to your no and stop immediately.’
A tiny bubble of amazement burst through her. He’d obeyed her no. She hated that she wished she’d urged him to continue. She put her hand to her mouth, exploring the way it faintly tingled as if he had indeed kissed her. The trouble with Richard was that she liked him far too much.
To cover her confusion, she grabbed the painting and held it out.
‘You may have the painting if you like it. I painted it with you in mind.’
He tilted his head and she caught a sudden flaring in his eyes. ‘It is kind of you. I will treasure it. I don’t think anyone has ever done something like that for me before.’
‘A thank you for the paints and for getting me started on painting again.’ Sophie clasped her hands together and hoped he’d think the redness of her cheeks was from the fire, rather than the awkwardness she suddenly felt. ‘I hope you don’t consider it too forward.’
‘Forward?’ His eyes widened. ‘Perish the thought. I’m very touched and honoured.’
‘It is funny how you don’t realise you missed something until it comes back into your life and suddenly your life takes on a new meaning.’
He stilled. ‘Have you decided to start painting people again?’
Sophie put a hand on her stomach to stop the butterflies. Somehow she knew she had to get the answer right. Because if she got it wrong, he’d go and she wasn’t ready for that yet.
‘I have only ever done pen-and-ink drawings, but some day, I will start using oils for painting portraits. I promise.’
‘I live in hope, then.’
Sophie let out a breath. She had passed the test.
He reached for the painting and his fingers brushed hers, almost a caress. A little touch which could have been accidental, but she chose to consider it deliberate. ‘You will go with me tomorrow to the cricket? The match is an important one.’
‘I look forward to it.’ Sophie held her body utterly still.
‘Out with it, Sophie. What is wrong?’
‘How could you tell that something was wrong?’
‘You always develop a little frown between your brows. And you have glanced at the desk ten times since I arrived. What is on that desk?’
He had noticed that! Sophie forced her features to relax. She walked over to the little desk she used for correspondence and withdrew the letter which had arrived in this morning’s post.
‘I have had a letter from my solicitors. You agreed to my terms for the settlement. No quibbling!’
‘Your terms were the same as I wish for any bride.’ He lifted an eyebrow as if daring her to say differently. ‘I thought you would have made them much more onerous and demanded a massive allowance or something outrageous. Having complete control over your own money makes common sense.’
‘My stepmother would have questioned it, particularly after I made the claim of undying devotion at the Assembly Rooms. She did look over the request I sent to the solicitors to make sure my interests were well looked after.’
He lowered his voice. ‘When do you plan to tell her about it?’
Sophie chose to assume he meant the letter about the settlement, rather than the bigger question of their false engagement. Her stepmother simply would not understand. And she would not understand why Sophie had to keep on seeing Richard and how precious these moments were becoming to her. She’d start on about a blossoming romance and what a shame it was that Sophie had not agreed to a true engagement when she was asked, instead of being mealy-mouthed.
‘About the settlement being agreed?’ Sophie tapped the letter against her hand. ‘I had to show her the letter.’
‘And is she insisting on that engagement party now the settlement is finalised?’
‘She has agreed to wait until Robert and Henri return. Robert should look over the settlement first was my excuse. My stepmother thinks I’m overly cautious. You know how she adores you and the fact you agreed so readily to the settlement has only enhanced your standing. She refuses to hear a word against you.’
‘Why did you tell her you wanted to wait?’
Sophie turned away from his burning eyes. If she looked at him, she’d be tempted to blurt out the truth. She enjoyed his company and wanted to prolong the time they spent together, but she knew it had to end. There wasn’t a future for them. They were strangers, not friends and certainly not lovers.
She wasn’t going back to the romantic fool who faced utter ruin. And she was determined to marry for love, real and lasting love rather than a fleeting illusion of romance. Lasting love happened quietly, not this sudden bolt of lightning longing she’d experienced in connection with Richard. It reminded her too much of how she’d felt with Sebastian—unsettled and unbalanced. Surely if it was love, she’d feel complete and whole?
She put the letter back on the desk. Her hand trembled. It was far too soon to think about love in connection with Richard.
‘I had to tell her something, otherwise she’d have been penning invitations this morning rather than going out visiting. Needing Robert’s and Henri’s blessing seemed like a sensible excuse.’
He tapped his fingers together and his lips pursed. ‘When are the Montemorcys expected to return?’
‘In the early part of June, no later than the eighteenth. Lady Forbisher always has a ball to celebrate Wellington’s victory at Waterloo and then there is the Stagshaw Fair on the fourth of July. Henri helps with the planning of that. We had a letter from Henri yesterday.’ She kept her head up. ‘The timing should be perfect. All the commotion will have died down. Our parting
