“I should rejoin the others,” she said softly. Camille would be looking for her soon,
if she hadn’t been distracted by some new flirtation. But Sophia felt too flushed
and shaky to face anyone.
“I’ll take you,” he said. His voice sounded very far away, and he didn’t turn to face
her.
How could he move from the hot rush of passion to this chilly distance so fast? Sophia
wished she knew how to do that, too. Perhaps she was out of practice with her own
acting skills.
“I think it’s best if I go alone for the moment,” she said. She heard another burst
of laughter, louder and closer this time. “They can’t be far.”
Dominic slowly turned to face her, and his expression was as cool and blank as a classical
statue. A handsome Apollo. “At least let me watch until you are safe,” he said. “I
won’t let them see that we’re together.”
At first, Sophia had the irrational flash of thought that Dominic was ashamed to be
seen with her. Then she laughed at her hurt. Of course they should not be seen together.
She was at a crossroads in her life, trying to see where she should go next. The last
thing she needed at this moment was another scandal, another wave of gossip, especially
with her cousin Elizabeth in Paris. That could be her way back to her family.
She nodded. “Very well. But really, what trouble could I get into here at a theater?”
Beyond the trouble she had already found…
Dominic laughed. “More trouble than anywhere else, I fear.”
Sophia nodded. She began to turn away, but suddenly Dominic reached out and caught
her gloved hand in his. She spun around and found him watching her, smiling. She distrusted
that smile more than anything else.
“I haven’t forgotten that diary, Lady Sophia,” he said, a thread of steel running
through his quiet voice. “I still would like to buy it from you.”
The diary.
What strange hold did it have over him? Why would someone like Dominic want a long-dead
woman’s crumbling journal? The mystery just made Sophia want to hold on to it, to
hold on to Mary, even more.
She slid her hand out of his. She could think so much more clearly when he wasn’t
touching her. “It’s not for sale. And why would you want it, anyway?”
Dominic gave a careless shrug, but Sophia wasn’t fooled. She could see the dark, determined
glint in his eyes.
“I am interested in old family history,” he said. “Perhaps there is something there
I could turn into a play.”
“I doubt it. Mary Huntington led a quiet life, from what I’ve read so far.” A quiet,
sad life, slowly destroyed by unrequited love. Heartbreaking, yes, but not the stuff
of great drama.
“I would still like to read it,” Dominic said. “If you won’t sell it to me, may I
at least take a look at it?”
Sophia studied Dominic’s face. She wondered if he
looked anything like Mary’s husband. If he did, surely Mary’s heart had broken all
over again every time she looked into his beautiful eyes and didn’t see what she longed
for there. Sophia suddenly wanted to be away from Dominic, to be away from herself
when she looked at him.
“Perhaps,” she said quickly. “Now I really must go and find the others.”
She hurried away, hardly seeing where she was going until she found a narrow flight
of stairs leading down from the walkway. She could hear laughter again, but it had
moved further away. As she climbed down to the stage below, she was suddenly surrounded
by looming scenery, painted images of meadows and drawing rooms that created a confusing
vista that closed in around her.
Sophia twirled in a circle, disoriented and breathless. She could still hear voices,
but they seemed at once nearby and very far away. As she stared up into the darkness
of the walkways, the back of her neck suddenly tingled, as if someone watched her.
Her heart pounding, she swung around, only to be confronted by more shadows. There
was a flash of movement, like a break in dark storm clouds that rippled around her.
“Who is there?” she called. “I think I’m lost…”
But there was no answer. Sophia stood very still, and as she listened closely, she
heard the faint sound of footsteps hurrying away.
I must be imagining things
, she thought, rubbing her hand over her brow. Surely she was just tired, and the
fantastical atmosphere of the theater was overcoming her senses. She was beginning
to imagine her life was a play, with mysterious, dark heroes and villains watching
from the night.
She rushed between the scenery, hurrying forward blindly, until at last she heard
Camille calling out to her. “Sophie! There you are. Wherever did you vanish to? Monsieur
Caville is taking us to that little café I told you about, it should be such fun…”
I miss my family most desperately since I lost the child. There, I have written it,
I can see the words here in blackest ink, so everyone may know they are true. My sister
and mother write to me every week, and I sit here by this window and wait for their
letters as if they were fragments of the real world flung into the recesses of my
lonely tower. They write of such ordinary things—the garden, a marriage in the village,
a new dress, but to me every word is manna from heaven. I used to think my family
so dull, so ordinary! But now I miss them, and I think they are exactly what a family
should be.
My husband’s family—they are nothing like that, even when they come to visit us here.
And they seem to frown every time they look at me, as if they expect something from
me I cannot give, I cannot be. John says I imagine things, that our love should be
enough to make me happy, and I used to think that as well.
But perhaps things are looking brighter for us. Word has come that the king’s brother,
the Duke of York himself, is to visit us on a hunting trip! John seems excited to
think our position at Court is improving, and I spend all my time planning the visit.
I pray this works out as my husband hopes it will.
A
chocolate shop. How difficult could it be to work there? And yet they had turned
her down when she tried to apply, saying she was too fine a lady to be behind the
counter
Sophia stood outside the large, gleaming window of the chocolatier and examined the
tempting array of elaborate sweet treats laid out there. The
Aide Demandé
sign in the door was still there, but they had not wanted her help. Could she really
find some way to be useful?
“
Excusez, madame
,” a couple said as they brushed past her into the store. She stepped back out of
their way, and suddenly caught a glimpse of a man’s reflection in the window. He was
watching her intently with a half-smile on his lips.
A smile she knew all too well now. Dominic St. Claire.
“Considering new employment, Sophia?” he said. “Or do you just have a sweet tooth
today?”
Sophia was caught between anger and the desire to laugh. He always seemed to catch
her in her most off-guard moments. “Both, I suppose,” she answered. She turned to
him with a polite smile, hoping she could maintain her facade with him today. “Who
doesn’t like chocolate?”
“I am not so fond of it, I confess, but my sister Isabel
loves it,” he said. “I thought I might fetch her a little treat today.”
“Don’t let me keep you then,” Sophia said quickly.
“There is no hurry. If you intend to apply for another position, you may need assistance.”
Sophia shook her head. “I don’t think I will be making any inquiries today.”
“Then maybe you would do me the honor of walking with me for a while? It’s a very
fine day.”
It
was
a fine day, sunny and warm, the streets crowded with people enjoying themselves.
Sophia was even tempted to go with him, too much so. She knew she shouldn’t be with
him, that he was too dangerous for a woman’s good sense, but she couldn’t seem to
help herself.
“Why?” she asked with a teasing smile. “To warn me away from your brother again? Or
perhaps to try to buy the old diary—which still is not for sale.”
Dominic threw back his head and laughed. The sunlight caught on his bright hair, and
several passing ladies faltered in their steps to watch him.
“No more, Mrs. Westman,” he said. “I think we understand each other on those scores
now.”
“Indeed we do.”
“Then let me make amends for my behavior. Let me buy you a cup of tea in that café
over there. I think we do still have things to talk about.”
Sophia glanced over at the café. It looked crowded, noisy, and affable, not a place
where much trouble could happen. It was such a lovely afternoon, just begging to be
wasted away at a café with a handsome man. And if she was to be honest with herself,
she had to admit she wanted to know more about Dominic.
“Very well, one cup of tea,” she said. He gave her a brilliant smile and led her to
the tables arrayed outside, where they found a quiet spot in the shade of a red awning.
Dominic summoned a pretty waitress with one flashing smile, and she seemed to spend
an inordinate time giggling at him until she brought the tea.
“So why do you want to work in a chocolate shop?” Dominic asked when the waitress
sashayed away. “Do you enjoy working so much?”
Sophia slowly removed her gloves before she answered. “I would enjoy working at something,
I think. But my experience of the culinary arts is rather… limited, I confess.”
Dominic laughed. “I would never have guessed,” he said.
Sophia smiled and studied him closely for any sign that she was boring him, but he
watched her closely, attentively. “But when I was a child I would often sneak down
to the kitchens, where our cook would give me treats. She taught me how to make a
cup of chocolate by careful stirring and measuring, and—well, it sounds odd, but those
were some of my happiest moments. The smell of the chocolate, the warmth, the patient
attention of the cook, who never belittled my efforts even when I spilled or burned
the chocolate.”
“A duke’s niece taking refuge in the kitchen?”
“Yes, exactly. Those days ended when my mother found out what was happening and forbade
me to go to the kitchens,” Sophia said. She still felt a pang of that old disappointment.
“I still make a very fine cup of chocolate though.”
Dominic laughed, and somehow she sensed he was in a
lighthearted mood today. Usually, even though he smiled and was charming, there was
some sort of cloudy watchfulness behind his eyes. Maybe his play was going very well.
Then she noticed the waitress smiling at him through the window, her pretty dimples
flashing. Maybe his good mood was due to something else entirely.
Sophia stirred slowly at her tea, not looking up at him.
“I’m surprised you wanted to spend so much time in the kitchens,” he said teasingly.
“Aren’t duke’s nieces usually tied up in ribbons and lace in the drawing room?”
Sophia had to laugh. If only he knew how true those words were. “Something like that.
But I was always interested in talking to people, all sorts of people. Finding out
about their lives. I couldn’t always do that trussed up like a porcelain doll by my
family.”
“You like to build characters in your mind,” he said.
Sophia peeked up at him from beneath her hat brim. “Yes,” she said. “Exactly. I liked
making pictures of their days in my imagination. What they did, what they thought.
Like a play, I suppose.”
“People are endlessly fascinating, I agree,” Dominic said. “And the theater is like
life amplified, explained. Have you ever thought of becoming an actress?”
Sophia was startled. “I—no, never. An actress?”
“You said you were looking for work. The milliner, the chocolate shop. Why not a theater?”
Sophia could feel herself blushing. He, Dominic St. Claire, thought she could be an
actress? For one wild moment she let herself imagine it. “I am so flattered you think
so, but I’ve only done some amateur theatricals at family house parties. I’ve never
learned how to
really
act.”
Dominic shrugged. “There are things you can be
taught, like projecting your voice and movement. But some things can’t be taught.
Natural interest and insight into people, for one. Presence is another. You must know
how beautiful you are.”
Sophia laughed. She could feel her blush deepening, turning hotter as it spread across
her cheeks. “You are too kind.”
“Not at all. I’m always honest about the theater. You should try acting.”
“I think I would enjoy that, but…”
“But what?”
“But I am sure my family would not like that, if I am ever to be reconciled to them.”
Even as Sophia said the words, she could see that her hopes of returning to the security
of the Huntingtons seemed further away than ever. “All my attempts at respectability
seem to fail!”
Dominic leaned back lazily in his chair. “Respectability is overrated, I think,” he
said. “Yet you wish to go back to your family?”
Sophia shrugged and took a sip of her tea. “It seems like the right thing to do at
this point in my life. Even black sheep must settle down eventually. I have surely
caused them enough trouble.”
“Have you indeed?” Dominic said quietly. He was silent for a long moment, as the laughter
of the other patrons flowed around them. He studied her closely until she feared she
would start to fidget, and then suddenly he smiled again. “How very interesting you
are, Sophia Westman.”
“Not as interesting as you, I think,” she said. “Tell me more about your play.”
Dominic nodded and followed her lead in the change in
subject. But even as they chatted lightly about the theater, she couldn’t shake the
sense that something between them had changed.
Sophia Westman really was a great beauty, Dominic thought as he watched her laughing
in the sunlight. Her black hair, coiled neatly beneath her hat, gleamed like rare
ebony, and her pale skin was touched with rose-pink over her high, sculpted cheekbones.
He had never seen eyes quite the color of hers before, almost like the sugared violets
in a patisserie window.