Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(39)

Sophie bit the inside of her cheek. Then, that was the way of their world. A woman’s wishes meant very little when coupled with the desires of a man. She looked to Christopher expecting to see a mocking glint in his familiar eyes.

As he bowed, his blank expression gave very little indication as to his thoughts.

She could only imagine his humor at her efforts on the pianoforte. Even if it was a skill she possessed, Christopher would never do something as gracious as to acknowledge her talent.

Her friend Emmaline, however, had indicated Christopher was a gracious, attentive suitor.

Sophie’s lips twisted with wry humor. Not that Sophie considered Christopher a suitor.

“Sophie?” Her brother shot her a pointed look.

Sophie dipped a curtsy. “My lord.”

“Miss Winters.”

Geoffrey slapped Waxham on the back. “Oh, come. There’s no need to stand on ceremony. We’ve known each other most of our lives.” He looked to the corner of the room where Sophie’s maid, Lucy, stood. “I have business to attend. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your visit.”

Christopher didn’t speak until Geoffrey had taken his leave. “You do play pianoforte.”

Unsure how to respond to his statement, Sophie said nothing.

He appeared unwilling to allow the matter to rest. “That is why you spend so much time in this garish parlor. Because of the pianoforte.” He sounded like a man of science who’d just discovered some unexplained bit of information. His gaze scanned the room, and then settled once again on her cheeks, which she imagined were flaming red to match the crimson upholstery. “It is hard to imagine the same young girl I sent fleeing this very room is now an accomplished songstress.”

“I’m hardly an accomplished…” Her words trailed off. A strand of hair tumbled over her brow and she brushed it back. All these years she didn’t believe he’d remembered his unkindness toward her. The stubborn curl fell back across her eye, yet again.

Christopher took a step toward her. He brushed the lock back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Your parents insisted you play.”

Her breath caught and held in her breast at the feel of his fingers against her skin. Sophie thought back to that long ago day. Mother, with her pursed lips, and commanding stare, had ordered Sophie to perform. “I didn’t want to play,” she said softly. “I wanted to…”

“Play with Penelope,” he finished for her.

With its golden ringlets and blue eyes, Father had always said her doll, Penelope, resembled Sophie.

A swell of emotion clogged her throat. Christopher could have only been fifteen or so years of age, and yet he remembered something as mundane as the name of her doll?

He continued, as though he’d heard Sophie’s unspoken question. “Your hair was like spun gold. I’d never seen a color that vibrant—until I saw you traipsing around, hand in hand with Penelope. She reminded me of you.”

Sophie tried, without success to swallow past that blasted lump in her throat.

Christopher captured one of her gold curls between his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed the lock back and forth between his fingers. “Even pleading with your mother, you were so remarkably composed.” His eyes fell to her mouth. She trailed the tip of her tongue along her lips. “Your mother tolerated your pleading but she never stood for your show of tears in the presence of company.” Sophie opened her eyes just as he raised the strand of hair to his nose, and inhaled. “I felt so bloody awful reducing you to tears that day.” The corners of his lips twitched. “Your screams could have shattered the windowpanes. The way I saw it, you’d be fine once you were off playing with Penelope.”

She blinked. “What?” Her mind spun as she tried to make sense of his words. Christopher had deliberately insulted her pianoforte skills…all to spare her from being paraded about?

It challenged everything she knew to be true of him.

Christopher released the golden curl. It bounced alongside her cheek.

Understanding dawned in his eyes. “You believed I was deliberately cruel, didn’t you?” Shocked hurt underlined his question.

“I…” She closed her mouth. Because she had believed it. “I didn’t know, Christopher,” she said, when he took a step away from her.

If she’d been so very wrong about that day, long ago, what else had she been wrong about?

All along she’d thought him no better than the fanged monsters of the Red Parlor. In actuality, he’d been a kind of Lancelot, intending to slay her demons.

Christopher passed an assessing glance over her face. “Why didn’t you wish to play after the dinner party?”

She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, feeling suddenly very foolish over her childish showing for him and his father. “I don’t prefer to play on command,” she said, not willing to admit just how affected she’d been by his insults some fourteen years ago. “It is enough that every other aspect of my life is dictated for me.” There, that wasn’t an untruth. Her love of music was the sole aspect of her life not subject to the whim and fancy of her mother and brother’s wishes and desires.

“I understand that,” Christopher said, quietly.

Sophie started at the admission.

He held his palms up. “When Society places stringent expectations upon you, it becomes very important to hold onto some aspect of one’s life.”