Sophie gaped at the man, not entirely sure if he was joking or not. “You wish to sing for me?” It was such a monumental leap from what they had been talking about, she couldn’t quite follow his reasoning.
“No, but since you insist, and since I am such a gentleman, who am I to refuse?”
From discussing her family’s fall from grace, to an impromptu concert? “All right,” she said slowly, unable to think of anything else to say. Was he attempting to cheer her up? Or did he simply wish not to dwell on her family’s misfortune? She pursed her lips, watching his face closely. She didn’t see any mocking in his expression, not even the first hint of ridicule. All that she could perceive was his light teasing and genuine intent to follow through.
“Let’s see,” he said, glancing past her shoulder. She turned too, peering down the empty river path. They’d walked farther than she’d realized, and she could only just make out the others through the trees and up the hill.
He nodded once. “Yes, I think we are far enough that no one will hear me embarrass myself, especially with the sounds of the river. Well, no one but you, of course.”
He was trying to cheer her up. Her heart melted as the corners of her lips curled up in a small smile. “If you embarrass yourself—and I sincerely doubt you will—then it will only serve to make us somewhat more even in terms of having humiliated ourselves in front of the other.”
“There you go with the tallying again. I will march you back to your mother, young lady.”
Where was this silliness in him coming from? He was making it impossible not to grin, not to let go of the darkness that weighed on her heart whenever she thought of her family’s situation. Putting her hand over her heart, she said, “I promise, not another word. Now, I’m ready whenever you are, my lord.”
His shoulders rose as he drew in a deep breath, looking genuinely nervous for the first time. “Very well. I shall sing an aria from Idomeneo. Since it is only the two of us, I’m not going to sing at full volume. Consider this a softer, more dolce interpretation of the song.”
He rolled his shoulders a few times and licked his lips. Sophie bit back a smile—he truly was nervous. It was adorable, really. It was nice to know there was something out there that made that composure of his slip. She waited patiently as he shifted his feet, opened and closed his fists at his sides, and then cleared his throat.
She was just about to give up on him when he drew a breath, closed his eyes, and began to sing.
He started very quietly. So much so that she found herself leaning forward, wanting to hear him over the sounds of the river beside them. But as the song began to build, his voice opened up, sounding rich and pure and so lovely it brought gooseflesh to the exposed skin of her arms. The words rolled off his tongue, unintelligible to her in literal terms, but beautiful and stirring nonetheless. Slowly she began to realize that he was repeating phrases. He’d sing it first one way, and then again in a totally different way, his chest rising and falling with the music he so clearly heard in his mind.
She closed her eyes, listening to every rise and run, every vibrato, every deftly changed key. She could feel the lightness of the song. It was hopeful and happy, and just being witness to his interpretation of it made her feel the same.
Sighing, she gave herself over to the experience. She couldn’t have ever imagined his singing to be so beautiful, so wholly moving. He didn’t need an orchestra or a grand hall with carefully designed acoustics. His singing wasn’t meant to be perfect; it was meant to be an expression of the music within him. It was meant to be sung in the forest, among the trees and the wildflowers, with an interloper like her somehow being lucky enough to hear it.
When the last note ended, he drew a great breath and finally opened his eyes. He looked at her, a hesitant smile on his lips. She stood there, awed, so impressed and honored that he would share this part of himself with her that she couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. She, of all people—completely at a loss for words.
Shifting, he gave a little lift of his shoulders. “I believe applause is customary.” His words were teasing, but she saw the hint of self-consciousness lurking in his tentative gaze.
Sophie smiled, but didn’t raise her hands to clap. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid applause is quite beyond me right now. I am still paralyzed with shock at the exquisiteness of your voice, which you have cruelly kept entirely to yourself until now.”
Pleasure at her words reflected back to her in the depths of his eyes, blotting out the momentary insecurity. “I like to have a few surprises up my sleeve.”
She shared a grin with him, enjoying the warmth with which he watched her. “What did it mean?” she asked quietly. “The song, I mean. Can you translate it?”
He nodded, relaxing his shoulders and taking a step closer to her. “Torna la pace al core: Peace returns to my heart. Torna lo spento ardore: Extinguished ardor is rekindled. Fiorisce in me l’età: Youth is reborn in me. Tal la stagion di Flora: Thus does Flora’s season, l’albero annoso infiora: make the old tree bloom again, nuovo vigor gli dà: and give it fresh vigor.”
A shiver of delight went through her at the way he spoke the Italian lyrics. Heavens, what she wouldn’t give to attend the opera with him and hear his whispered translations again. Step One and Three-Quarters of wooing the earl seemed to be him inadvertently wooing her. . . .
Nodding as though she wasn’t imagining his lips at her ear again, she said, “So the song was as hopeful as it sounded. It made me feel as though mountains were conquerable when your voice rose to its high range. It gave me gooseflesh, in fact,” she said, rubbing her arms.
His smile was as wide as hers. “Now, now—I’m certain that was just the result of the river breeze,” he said, all humbleness now that he was certain of her enjoyment. “Shall I go and fetch your wrap? It wouldn’t do to leave you chilled.”
She quickly shook her head. The very last thing she wanted was for him to leave her. “Not chilled, my lord—awed. And you may deflect my praise all you want, but that was by far my very favorite opera performance, and before you make any remarks about how many I have attended, I’m not entirely certain, but I can assure you it was enough to know yours was truly wonderful.”
“Now you’ve gone and done it,” he said, his hands going to his hips.
“What?” she exclaimed. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You’ve clearly upset the balance of compliments, and I cannot call myself a gentleman if I allow it to stand. Let me see,” he said, slowly circling around her. She crossed her arms and grinned, shaking her head as he inspected her. He tapped his lips with his gloved finger. “If you are to praise me so highly, I must do the same. That rules out your gown, your countenance, and your hair, as those would all be ordinary compliments.”
She could hardly believe his playfulness. He seemed as happy as she had ever seen him. “Very ordinary, and quite unbelievable,” she agreed.
He paused in his circuit and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Unbelievable?”
She inwardly cringed. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that out loud. Ladies were not supposed to point out their shortcomings, as others would see it as fishing for praise. She had simply been stating the obvious. “It’s just that a woman prefers an honest compliment,” she said, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. What kind of ninny reminded the man she was attempting to woo that she was in possession of average to passable looks?
For a moment, he simply considered her, his brow furrowed, as if trying to work out a riddle. “Are you of the belief that a compliment to your appearance would be insincere?”
If she could snap her fingers and return to the conversation of a minute earlier, she would happily and eagerly do exactly that. “Evan, please. There is nothing wrong with being average, and we shall leave it at that.”
He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he resumed his circuit, his footfalls soft on the packed earth of the dirt path. “When you are resting, perhaps.”
She angled her head, trying to work out what on earth he meant. “I beg your pardon?”
“When you are simply sitting quietly, as one might do in front of a mirror, I can see how you might see your features as ordinary.”
“Oh,” she said, lacing her fingers awkwardly. She was oddly disappointed to hear him agree with her. Why, oh why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? She almost rolled her eyes. Because she was Sophie, that’s why. Talkative, silly, ordinary Sophie, who never could manage to keep her tongue behind her teeth.
He stopped directly in front of her, his brilliant, icy blue eyes holding hers hostage with their earnestness. “It’s when you speak, and listen, and laugh, and smile, and even frown that your beauty comes alive. When you are you, unable to be still or even quiet, you have a luminosity to your countenance that could never be considered ordinary.” His lips relaxed into a soft, almost tender smile. “Which, in my very educated opinion, makes you rather extraordinary, Sophie Hood.”
She gaped at him, unable to believe what he was saying. It was the loveliest thing anyone had ever said to her. Butterflies danced to life in her belly, stealing her breath with the force of the sensation. “You certainly know how to even a score,” she breathed, doing her best to smile normally.
He stepped closer to her, tilting his head down to meet her gaze. “I know how to speak the truth, that is all.”
Her heart hammered a staccato beat within her chest, and she moistened her lips as she exhaled shallowly through her mouth. No man had ever spoken to her like that before. Even more remarkable, he seemed to mean every precious word.
Her gaze fell to his lips, those lovely lips that had said such beautiful things to her. They looked soft, and supple, and more inviting than any man’s lips had a right to. Swallowing, she looked back and met his gaze. Was it just her imagination, or was the look in his eyes inviting as well?
“Evan,” she whispered, desperate to know if she was imagining the look he was bestowing on her or the unbelievable magnetic attraction between them. Almost of their own volition, her fingers slipped into his, and instead of pulling away, he closed his hand to hold hers tighter. She didn’t move, hardly even breathed, as she relished the warmth of the touch and savored the inherent strength of his body, evident in little more than that whisper of touch between them.
Light laughter from around the bend startled her out of her trance. Someone was coming! Sophie’s body went limp with disappointment, and she dragged in several breaths, trying to recapture her composure. Blast their miserable timing!
Evan stepped back, breaking their contact as his eyes darted down the path toward the sound. “It looks as though we have company,” he said, straightening his shoulders. He sounded nonchalant about it, as if the intruders hadn’t just ruined a perfectly wonderful moment.
By the time Miss Paddington and her chaperone rounded the bend, Evan and Sophie were a respectable distance apart, both staring out over the scenic river. They murmured greetings to the others as they passed, and stood silent as the pair continued out of earshot. When Evan turned back to her, it was with a polite smile that made her heart sink. “I think perhaps we should rejoin the group,” he said, holding out his elbow.
Trying valiantly not to show her disappointment, she nodded, placed her fingers on his sleeve, and allowed him to guide her back toward the party. It was hard to believe now that he possessed the sort of passion she had glimpsed in his singing. Yet even with the frustrating interference upon their time alone together, at least now she knew there was hope.
* * *
“You are awfully quiet tonight.”
Evan blinked and glanced up. He hadn’t even heard Julia come into the library, let alone walk over to his seat. Closing the unread book in his lap—a translation of The Barber of Seville—he set it on the table beside him and smiled. “Busy day.”
The ride home had been quiet as well, with Evan, Julia, and Harry all lost in their own thoughts. Julia had steadfastly ignored the baronet before they had deposited him in front of his inn, but that was preferable to the little jabs she’d been taking at him earlier. Evan had been distracted by his own thoughts, idly considering the unexpected progression of the day.
“Indeed it was,” his sister responded, a tired grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I fear I may have gotten a bit too much sun on my face, but it was well worth it. Did you enjoy yourself?”
Nodding slowly, he said, “Yes, I did, actually. The archery was particularly entertaining, even without winning.” He couldn’t remember ever enjoying the sport quite so thoroughly. Having Sophie as a partner had been an unexpected delight. She had the unique ability to be happy and lighthearted even when she was failing. She had tried as hard as she could, and when she had fallen short, she had no thought of herself, only for him. He got the impression that she was the sort who kept getting up, no matter how many times she was knocked down.
Julia settled herself on the chair at the other side of the table. “It was absolutely priceless seeing Sophie’s face when she hit the hay bale that first time. One would have thought she’d hit the bull’s-eye.”
He grinned. Sophie’s exuberance was one of her best traits. Today she had proven remarkable company, making him laugh and banter in a way that felt more genuine than he could ever remember. He was glad they had fallen into friendship over the last week. Being around her seemed to lift something inside him, that invisible weight that had been his constant companion all these years. She was a sweet person, and he was happy to know her.
And no, he had no intention of analyzing the moment he’d had distinctly unfriendly thoughts about her, when her fingers had tucked into his and he’d briefly considered tugging her flush against him. It was a simple lapse. An understandable one, given her loveliness and the intimacy of the moment. She was a friend, and that’s all there was to it.
It was a damn shame she would soon be sent back to Appleton because of her family’s circumstances. He knew all about living a life that one had never asked for. Knowing what lay ahead for her made him want to make the rest of the time that she had in Bath all the more enjoyable.
He looked back at his sister and nodded in agreement. “If only she had—and not just because the vicar will hold that victory over us until the day we die.”
“Nonsense,” Julia said, amusement tickling the word. “You’re the one who will hold on to it, I’m sure. Mr. Wright was simply enjoying the moment. Speaking for myself, it made my defeat somewhat less crushing to know I lost to a man of God.”
Evan sat back against his chair, eyeing his sister. “I noticed you spent quite a lot of time talking to him. Discussing the Good Book?” He liked to see his sister enjoying herself, laughing without the strain that so often tightened her features. But what he did not approve of was a far too forward young peacock making eyes at her whenever she was near.
She lifted an impertinent brow. “I’ll tell you all about what we discussed just as soon as you tell me what you and Sophie were discussing on your walk.”
“Opera, mainly,” he replied, calling her bluff. “A little of my dislike of mathematics and her unaccountable like for it.” It was true enough. She didn’t need to know that he had sung anything for Sophie. There was absolutely nothing wrong with doing so, but he simply didn’t feel the need to share that particular detail.
After seeing Sophie’s spirits sag when she spoke of her circumstances, he had wanted to make her happy again. He was by no means a master, but she had clearly enjoyed the impromptu performance. There was something special about a person who was easily pleased by something so simple. Some people wanted baubles or favors; she simply wanted music.
Across from him, Julia smiled, all innocence. “Then, yes, we talked all about the Bible.”
He scowled at her, knowing full well that she was holding out on him. “I do wish you would keep your distance from him. He’s about as close to a saint as I am.” Julia was a strong person, but he worried about her ability to withstand a true Lothario. It was easy to be swayed by one so skilled at the art of flattery.
“Oh, quit posturing. He is actually a very nice man beneath all that charm.”
“I’m not posturing; I’m keeping your best interests at heart.”
Her amusement faded a bit as she sighed. “I wonder—is it he that you don’t trust, or I? You should know that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her; it was more that he didn’t trust her lack of experience when it came to members of the ton. “Yes, I know,” he said, not wanting to make it a big issue. “But I don’t see why you don’t spend more time with someone like Harry. He at least can be counted on to be a gentleman.”
Harry had been around their whole lives. Evan hadn’t expected to see their neighbor here this summer, but with Julia showing up on his doorstep, Evan was glad for the man’s presence.
Julia rolled her eyes with all the dramatics of a stage actress. “If you’re so keen that someone should spend time with the man, might I suggest you do the honors?”
“I spent the entire evening in his company only two days ago. Happily, I should add.”
“Well, it appears you are a saint after all,” she replied, a patronizing smile stretching her lips as she came to her feet. “We should all strive to be so tolerant.”
He held up his hands, surrendering. “Fine, fine. I shall trust your judgment, just as I have for years. I’ll thank you for continuing to be trustworthy.”
“See?” she said, coming around to kiss his cheek. “You really are a saint.”
He sighed and shook his head. “A martyr is more like it.”
As she started for the door, he swiveled in his chair, a thought occurring to him. “Would you like to go to the gala tomorrow? Cadgwith invited us to join him and the ladies of the trio.”
“Absolutely,” she replied, nodding eagerly.
It would be good for her to spend more time with the other females. He suspected that her lack of close friendships was half the reason she had traveled to Bath.
He angled his head, stuck on that thought. “Are you ready to tell me what brought you to my doorstep last week?”
She bit her lip and gave a little shrug. “Just needed to escape. Funny how some things tend to follow us wherever we go, though.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.” His secrets—their secrets—would always be with them. Hopefully her time here would show her that there was still much they could enjoy in life.
“Still, I’m so glad I came. If nothing else, it’s good to see you laugh.” She winked before taking her leave.
He settled back against his chair, considering what she’d said. He really had enjoyed being here this summer. The music, the friends—the whole atmosphere of the place was exactly what he hadn’t known he needed. And the burgeoning friendship with Sophie Wembley, of all people, was a particular surprise.
It was rather unfortunate that tomorrow might be one of the last times he saw Sophie for the foreseeable future. He was glad for the time they’d had today, especially when he’d had the chance to dispel her notion that she was ordinary. It wasn’t right that she should think herself average—she was so much more than the reflection in the mirror.
He chewed the inside of his lip, thinking. Though he could do little to change the fact that she was departing soon, he could at least make certain that she enjoyed her remaining time in Bath. She was a good friend to him and his sister, and she deserved to leave here knowing that she’d be missed.
* * *
“I’ve a letter from your father,” Mama said, sailing into the drawing room and closing the door with a firm click. She came to sit beside Sophie on the sofa, the letter in question clutched in her fingers.
Sophie’s mind had been a million miles away—actually, it was more like two miles away, on the river path—and it took her a moment to come back to the present. “News of Penelope?”
“Yes,” her mother said, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “They’re returning from their so-called honeymoon in Scotland. Oh, the blasphemy of the word. I’d say their illicit holiday, but your father has made it quite clear that the church will recognize the union whether we like it or not.”
Sophie pressed her lips together, anger and worry colliding in her chest. So they thought they could slide right back into their lives, did they? As if their actions hadn’t permanently damaged both of their families, and blackened their own reputations? “I’m sure whatever funds they had ran out, and they think to return to their families’ bosoms.”
“Yes, I imagine you’re right. Oh, the nerve,” Mama said, throwing her hands up. “If they had to go off and do such a reckless, selfish thing, they could have at least had the decency to stay away longer. We need all the time we can get.”
The knot of tension that had loosened in recent days yanked tight again in Sophie’s stomach. She nodded, not trusting her voice to answer.
Mama eyed her, her lips pursed as she worried the paper in her hands. “How goes your husband hunt? I noticed you spent quite a bit of time in the earl’s presence yesterday.”
Not a topic she wished to discuss with her mother. The words husband hunt alone made her feel like a fraud. Her feelings for Evan had nothing to do with her sister’s foolish actions, and everything to do with the earl himself. “Well enough, I think.”
“Have you managed to get him to kiss you? Don’t think I don’t know exactly how much time you spent on the path with him yesterday. I’m quite willing to be a lenient chaperone, but I expect you to show some results.”
Sophie’s cheeks flared red-hot. What a horrible, horrible topic to discuss with one’s parent. She lifted her chin, clinging to whatever dignity she had left within her. “He was a perfect gentleman. Though I do feel that we have a connection between us. I can talk to him quite easily, and he to me.”
Mama’s eyebrow lifted beneath the lace of her mobcap. “Talking never landed an earl in the parson’s mousetrap, I’m sure. You must make certain that his interest is captured. Use your feminine wiles, such as they are, and make him see that you are the perfect bride for him.”
Setting down the letter, she pulled both of Sophie’s hands into her own. “Sometimes a woman is most interesting when her mouth is shut, my little magpie. Push back those shoulders, bat your eyelashes, and smile at him as though he is the cleverest man in the world. We’re running out of time, and I don’t want to see your hopes dashed forever.”
Embarrassment aside, it was actually one of the sweetest things her mother had said to her. Sophie nodded, swallowing against the despair that rose up at the thought of living her life not only without the man she loved, but as a cast-aside spinster as well. “I’m doing my best, Mama.”
A pleased smile crinkled the corners of her mother’s dark eyes. “Excellent. Whatever it is the earl sees in you, I’m grateful for it. If you can secure his promise, then no one will dare snub the family of a countess.”
Sophie’s heart fell. Blast it all, she hadn’t even thought of that. Just what she needed: not only her own hopes pinned on a match, but those of her entire family. She exhaled and tried to return her mother’s smile. The stakes for tonight’s gala had just gone up.