The Earl I Adore (18 page)

She dragged a hand over the back of her neck. “Sometimes I wish he would have been. Then at least we wouldn't be stuck in this eternal purgatory.”

He glanced over at her, lifting an eyebrow. “Living on one of the finest estates in the country, eating the best foods and enjoying the respect of all who know you is hardly purgatory. You have everything you could want right at your fingertips.”

“Everything except what matters,” she said quietly.

He sighed, offering her a tired smile. “You have me. And our mother, for what it's worth. But you know we can't risk damning a spouse to what Mother endured. Or worse, putting innocent children through what we endured, or even passing Father's madness on to them. It's best this way.”

Something he needed to remember. The slip that he'd
had today couldn't be repeated, for Sophie's sake. Sharing a friendship was one thing, but when it slid into the murky waters of flirtation, that's when people got hurt.

He didn't want to think about what she was feeling at that moment, but he couldn't help it. She was sweet and entirely too quick to think the worst of herself. He wished he could boost her spirits, but what the hell could he do? He no longer knew how to walk the line between friendship and, well,
more
than friendship. He couldn't trust himself not to make things worse.

“Thank you for not sending me home, Evan.”

He blinked, refocusing on the present. Working his lips into a smile, he dipped his head in a shallow nod. “Truth be told, I rather like the company. Though I mean it about being more civil. Tomorrow I want you to send Harry an apology—something I should have had you do yesterday. There's discouraging attention, and there is downright rudeness. He doesn't deserve the latter.”

Just as Sophie didn't deserve a cold shoulder. But what could he do about it? It would be impossible to apologize to her without encouraging her.

As much as he wished he could make things better between them, his duty to his own family came first.

“B
egging your pardon, Miss Sophie, but Lady Julia has come to call.”

Sophie sat up in bed, blinking in surprise at her maid. “Lady Julia? Did she say what brought her here?”

Lynette lifted a shoulder, her green eyes kind. “Can't rightly say, Miss, but your mother said you must come down. Can I help you dress?”

Sophie sighed, knowing full well that her mother would not let her get away with turning the earl's sister away. “Well, I suppose I can't greet a lady in my night rail. Could you choose something simple, please?”

As the maid hurried to the armoire, Sophie tossed off the bedclothes and swung her feet around. It was well past noon, but she had pleaded a headache this morning, just as she had last night after the horrendous rejection from the earl.

Fresh humiliation washed over her, and she pressed her hands to her temples. She still didn't know how things had turned out so dreadfully. When she had kissed him, it may have taken a moment, but he
had
kissed her back. Not merely politely, either, if there was such a thing. She hadn't imagined it, yet here she was, still exhausted from
a sleepless night wondering what had turned him against her.

Less than ten minutes later, Sophie hurried downstairs and let herself into the drawing room. Mama and their guest both sat on the sofa, tea in hand. Julia looked more than a little relieved to see her. Offering an apologetic smile, Sophie went and sat in the chair closest to her friend. “Good afternoon! I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Think nothing of it,” she replied, grinning as she set her tea down. “Mrs. Wembley kept me fully entertained, I assure you.”

Mama beamed, no doubt delighted to have had their guest to herself. “You are such splendid company, Lady Julia. I do hope you'll feel free to call on us again.” She came to her feet, depositing her teacup on its saucer before grabbing a biscuit from the small plate in the center of the table. “I'll just leave you ladies be.”

Sophie waited as she bustled out, then turned to Julia when the door had clicked shut behind her. “My apologies if she held you hostage while I was dressing. She does mean well.”

Waving a hand airily, Julia said, “Not at all. My own mother isn't nearly so easy to talk to, so I found it rather entertaining. However, I am ever so glad to see you.”

“And I you. It was lovely of you to join us yesterday. I'm only sorry we didn't have more time together then. Or at the vicar's party, for that matter.” Sophie had been too preoccupied, not that it had done her any good in the end.

“Yes,” Julia said slowly, sending Sophie a sly look. “It would seem my brother has quite monopolized your time.”

The sting of a hot blush swamped Sophie's cheeks,
and she quickly looked to her lap. She was still too tender to bear speaking about it now.

“Oh dear, I see I've upset you.”

The rustle of fabric was followed by the splash of liquid filling a cup. Two plops and the clink of silverware against porcelain, and then a teacup appeared at Sophie's hands. She sniffed and smiled, accepting Julia's offering.

“Thank you,” Sophie said quietly, then took a sip. It was sweetened just the way she liked it. Rallying, she looked up, her smile wobbly but in place. “Please forgive my silliness.”

“There's nothing silly about one's feelings.” Julia smiled kindly as she pushed the plate of biscuits in Sophie's direction. “I had a feeling something may have happened between the two of you last night, and I wanted to make sure that all was well with you.”

Something had happened, all right. All of Sophie's hopes for love and happiness had been dashed in one fell swoop. She nodded, not knowing what else to say to Evan's own sister. Honestly, Sophie didn't even know why she had ever thought she'd have a chance with the man.

“Whatever happened, I'm sure it wasn't your fault. Evan is not only oblivious—he's also a bit of an idiot sometimes.”

Sophie reached for a biscuit and took a bite, desperate for the comfort gingerbread always brought. It didn't help. “No, in this case, I was both the idiot and the party at fault.” She shook her head, suddenly wanting Julia to understand. “But I've been in love with him since the moment I met him, and I didn't want to lose my chance to turn his head.”

Julia's eyes showed nothing but sympathy. “Oh,
Sophie. I'm so sorry. But you are most certainly not an idiot. Evan, confirmed bachelor that he is, should have never allowed things to progress as far as they did. It was very badly done of him.”

Sophie breathed a hopeless little laugh. “Evan didn't do anything. I fell for him when he hardly even knew my name. He was so kind, and we had the same love of music, and every time I looked at him my heart would leap from my chest.” She buried her face in her hands. “I cannot believe I am telling you this. What you must think of me.”

“I think you are a sweet, sweet person who had the misfortune of falling in love with the wrong man.” There was such kindness in her words, it was hard to believe she had ever spoken so harshly to Sophie at their first meeting.

Sophie nibbled her lip, considering Julia's words. “Do you know, I don't look at it that way? I don't think I could ever regret falling in love with him.” It didn't make sense, she knew, especially after the awfulness of yesterday. Even so, she meant what she said.

“But he hurt you,” Julia said, confusion knitting her brow.

“Not on purpose. Any time we fall in love, there will always be risk. Romeo and Juliet taught us that much,” she said, a fleeting smile crossing her lips. “I'm teasing, of course, but still, every great love story on earth started with a risk.

“Even the ones that worked out have no guarantees. Look at Lord Cadgwith's brother, who died much too soon, leaving behind a young wife and infant. If his widow had known his fate, would she still have married him? If she loved him, then I would think yes.”

Julia angled her head, genuine interest flickering in
her hazel eyes. “Very thought-provoking. I hadn't quite considered such a thing.”

Sophie scooted forward, relieved that her friend wasn't dismissing her thoughts out of hand. “The way I look at it—or at least the way I am trying to look at it—is that even if my gamble didn't pay off, at least I tried. At least I know that I put all my cards on the table, even if my hand lost.”

“That's very . . . profound. You surprise me.” Julia's eyes were no longer sympathetic or even apologetic, which was an improvement, as far as Sophie was concerned. She didn't want to be some sort of tragic figure, no matter how upset she still was.

“Yes, well, I had a lot of time to think last night. That's not to say that I'm not very, very hurt, but I did everything I could to pursue my own happiness, and that is all I can ask of myself.” Her mother was a different story, but Sophie would face her mother's wrath later.

Julia lifted her spoon and idly stirred her tea, her lips pursed in thought. “What if you knew that, even if you both felt the same way about each other, your love could only lead to heartbreak? Wouldn't you be happy knowing he had helped save you from that?”

Giving a helpless little shrug, Sophie grinned. “In case you hadn't figured it out, I'm a terrible romantic. As far as I'm concerned, if two people love each other, then their love will always triumph.” She blinked, realizing what she'd just said. What did that mean for her sister? Had Penelope pursued her love in the only way she felt she could? Sophie pushed the thought aside, resolving to reexamine it when she was alone.

“Well,” Julia said, setting the spoon on the saucer and straightening her shoulders, “I had come here with the intent of offering my support, yet somehow I feel as
though you're the one with all the insight. You've given me quite a lot to think about.”

Sophie had given
herself
a lot to think about. She felt a thousand times better than when she had come downstairs. When Julia stood, Sophie did the same. Giving her friend a heartfelt hug, she said, “I'm so glad to have met you. I do hope that you will write once we are back in our respective homes.”

“Yes, of course,” Julia replied, smiling broadly. “I consider us to be great friends by now.” She started for the door, but stopped and swiveled to face Sophie again. “And for what it's worth, Evan feels very, very badly for whatever happened yesterday in the labyrinth. He hasn't said as much, but it is plain as day to me.”

After she had gone, Sophie sipped her tea, thinking about Julia's last words. As odd as it was, she felt bad that
he
felt bad. He may not have handled things terribly well, but to be fair, she had more or less assaulted him. Only she could turn a first kiss into an ambush.

She put a hand to her heart, directly over the ache that she knew couldn't be soothed. This time, when she thought of her sister and the fate she had damned Sophie to, it wasn't with anger or fury. It was with sadness. Sadness for herself, for her family, and for the sister who had, for whatever reason, felt she had no choice in following her heart.

The question was, would love be able to triumph for any of them? Despite what she'd said to Julia, this time even Sophie's romantic, eternally optimistic soul couldn't be sure.

*   *   *

After Evan and Julia had spent most of their meal in relative silence, he was mildly surprised when his sister dabbed her mouth, put down her napkin, and smiled at
him across the polished surface of the dining table. “I wrote a letter to Harry.”

Evan set down his wine goblet and nodded. “Excellent. I'm sure he will be very appreciative.” Despite his directive, he hadn't been certain she would actually put pen to paper.

She leaned back as the footman swapped her empty plate for her dessert course. “I imagine he will,” she said, smiling almost contritely. “I thought a lot about what you said, and I realized that I haven't treated him either fairly or kindly of late. That was not very well done of me.”

He knew exactly what she meant. He still felt the sting of guilt when he thought of Sophie's expression the night before. She had looked absolutely crestfallen. Neither could he stop thinking of the way she had felt in his arms, or the softness of her willing lips pressed against his. He couldn't forget the taste of her tongue, or the sweet lemon-and-roses scent of her skin.

With effort, he dragged his thoughts away from his desire for the girl and stretched his lips into a thin smile. “I'm proud of you for attempting to make amends. It is never easy to admit when we are in the wrong.” He forked a piece of his dessert and lifted it to his mouth. He almost closed his eyes when he tasted it: lemon cake with rosewater infusion. Apparently his cook was conspiring against him.

Across from him, Julia nodded as though he had made a very compelling point. “Interesting you should say that,” she replied, pausing to pop a small strawberry in her mouth. “I went to visit Sophie today.”

Evan nearly choked on his cake. “Whatever for?”

She shrugged, her hazel eyes glinting mischievously in the evening sunlight angling through the dining room's
wide windows. “She's a friend. It was clear that something had transpired between the two of you yesterday, and if it put you in such a dreadful mood, I worried how she might be doing.”

An unexpected rush of emotions welled up from deep within him. Had Sophie been upset? Angry? Humiliated? It was hard to imagine his ever-positive friend being any of those. What would she have shared with his sister?

On the one hand, he hated how he had handled things yesterday, but on the other, he still didn't know what else he could have done. Yes, he should have pulled away the moment she kissed him, but that hadn't been his instinct, damn it. Could a man be faulted for an honest reaction to a woman's advances?

That was the question, wasn't it? He felt more strongly for Sophie than he'd ever expected. His body hummed at the possibility of being near her, his mind lingered over thoughts of her, and his heart seemed to ache with the hope of seeing her again. He couldn't help any of these things, and that was the real problem.

Sending Julia a sideways glance, he said, “And how was she?”

“How do you think she was?” she countered, keeping a perfectly straight face.

“How am I to know? I'm not the one who visited her.”

“Mmm,” she murmured noncommittally. She dipped a strawberry in the lemon icing and held it to her lips. “Hurt, to be sure. But not resentful.” She bit the strawberry in half and watched him as she chewed.

He didn't know what to think about that. It was Sophie—had she ever been resentful a day in her life? The hurt part didn't surprise him, but it did make him
feel that much more guilty. “I'm sorry to hear that,” he said, very much meaning it.

“I was right about her having a
tendre
for you, but I imagine you already knew that.”

He didn't answer. Of course he knew it. He also knew—as did his sister—that pursuing anything with the girl would be impossible.

No matter how much he found himself thinking about her. Like when he was alone, attempting to deal with mundane estate matters. Or when he was in bed, imagining things he had no right imagining.

She set down the uneaten portion of her strawberry and met his eyes straight on. “All I have to say is that I did right by Harry and apologized to him. I think it's only right that you should treat Sophie with the respect she deserves.”

Evan's jaw tightened. What the hell did she want him to do? If he could think of something that would make things better, without risk of hurting Sophie further, then he would do it. “I'm not writing Sophie a letter, Julia.”

“Good—we are in agreement.” Her smile was swift and determined. “It's so much easier to convey one's thoughts in person, don't you agree?”