The Earl I Adore (19 page)

“No, I—”

“
Yes
, you do.” Her voice rang with an authority that made him straighten in surprise. “Sophie is a good and honorable person. She may have taken a chance on something that wasn't meant to be, but she doesn't deserve to feel badly about doing so.”

Yesterday his sister had condemned his relationship with Sophie, and today she wanted him to go make amends? Where was this coming from? “I agree that she should not feel that she did anything wrong. However, I don't believe going to see her will solve anything.”

Julia held his gaze for a moment, her eyes softening. “Call it a closure of sorts, if you will. Do her the kindness of assuring her that you still think well of her. She deserves that much.”

That much, and more. Sighing, he offered a reluctant nod. “Very well. If you think that it will be a kindness, then I shall call on her tomorrow.
Briefly
,” he added, more for himself than for her. The problem was, it was entirely too easy to be drawn into Sophie's light. Now that he knew her feelings toward him, he couldn't afford to make that same mistake again.

“W
ell done, child,” Sophie's mother crowed, hurrying into the drawing room with her eyes positively glowing with delight. “I was beginning to wonder, but clearly you've done something right.”

Sophie paused, her oboe lifted halfway to her lips. “I have?” As far as she was concerned, she hadn't done anything right in days. Months, perhaps.

“No time, no time,” her mother responded, examining Sophie from top to bottom. “Yes, you look quite nice today, thank goodness. The earl has called and asked for you to join him on a carriage ride through the city. He's outside with his handsome matched chestnuts as we speak—they're worth a mint, to be sure,” she exclaimed, pressing her hands to her round pink cheeks. “This is your chance, my little magpie!”

The oboe slipped from Sophie's fingers, and she only just managed to catch it before it fell to her lap. “The earl? He's here?” There was no catching her dropping stomach—it seemed to plummet clear to her toes.

Mama plucked the instrument from Sophie's hands and plopped it on the sofa. “Yes, yes, that's what I said. Hurry now, you mustn't keep him waiting.” She tugged
Sophie to her feet and brushed at her skirts like a mother hen.

Sophie stood rooted in place, dumbfounded at the unexpected upheaval of her perfectly dull morning. What in the world? Why would Evan be here? Hadn't he made it abundantly clear that she was an unwanted companion? Before she could get her wits properly about her, Mama had hustled her downstairs and out the door. Sure enough, Evan stood beside a smart little curricle, the ribbons loosely clasped in his fingers.

Without even meaning to, Sophie came to an abrupt stop, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. The day may have been overcast and cool, but the sight of him sent heat rushing through her body. His lips were turned up in the slightest of smiles, but his eyes watched her with a quiet reserve that made it impossible to know what he was thinking.

“Sophie,” her mother hissed, giving her arm a little pinch.

She flinched and pulled away. At least it had served to pull her from her frozen state. With both her mother and Evan watching her, she couldn't seem to remember how to properly act. “Good morning.
Afternoon
,” she quickly corrected. Drawing in a fortifying breath, she walked forward, moving carefully so as not to trip or otherwise embarrass herself.

Evan dipped his head, his features trained in bland welcome. “And to you, Miss Wembley. I hope you don't mind me calling unannounced like this. The weather just seemed perfect for a nice ride about town.”

“Oh, it is, quite,” Mama said, her voice jarringly bright. “No danger of sunburn with all these clouds, and not a bit of wind to worry about. You are so very thoughtful, my lord.”

Sophie tried not to cringe at her mother's pandering, but it wasn't easy. The best course of action was to leave, as soon as possible. “Well, then,” she said, her voice coming out entirely too high. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Thank you, my lord. A ride would be lovely.”

Moments later they were pulling away, leaving her beaming mother behind them. The smart
clip-clop
of the horses' hooves on the street mirrored Sophie's own heartbeat. What on earth was she doing, sitting beside the man as though nothing had happened between them? Did Julia say something to him? Sophie's cheeks burned at the thought.

“I hope you don't mind the imposition,” Evan said, his voice smooth and low, the way a rider might speak to a spooked mount. “I wanted to be able to speak without being subjected to prying ears, and a ride seemed like the best option.”

“Not at all,” she said, offering him a nervous smile. “A very clever decision, for I can assure you my mother would be quite keen to hear whatever it is we have to say.”

She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, not quite sure what to do with herself. Curiosity burned bright in her chest. What was it that he wished to speak of? What was it that he had to say that he wouldn't want overheard? She wanted to ask, but at the same time she was afraid to know. Both hope and dread took turns unsettling her stomach.

They carried on toward Prior Park Gardens, which had quite a nice driving lane, without a lot of traffic. It was only two miles from the city center, but was located up the surrounding hillside, so it had marvelous views overlooking Bath.
Not
that Sophie could focus on anything other than her nerves.

After they passed the park's stone gate, Evan slowed the horses to a walk. Glancing over at her with a small smile, he said, “I feel as though I owe you an apology. I fear I mishandled things the other night, and I want you to know that I value our friendship.”

Friendship
. She didn't miss the emphasis. “You're very kind. Thank you.” The words felt stilted on her tongue. Here she was, sitting so close beside him her shoulder bumped his whenever they turned, and yet he was more distant from her than ever.

No, that wasn't true. He had been leaps and bounds more distant after the kiss. It was . . . kind of him to do this. She had to give him credit for wanting to settle things between them.

His shoulders relaxed, subtly, but she still noticed. “You are a lovely person, Sophie, and I don't want you to believe I think otherwise. I hold you in the highest regard.”

She blinked and looked over at him.
Sophie?
It sent a shiver of delight through her to hear her name on his lips. Not Miss Wembley, not Sophie Hood—just Sophie. Now of all times. There had to be some sort of irony in that.

“It's very noble of you to say so. It's a relief to know I didn't irreparably damage things between us. I'd have a devil of a time finding someone else to sing to me—or translate Italian operas, for that matter.” Her grin was somewhat self-deprecating. She knew things would never be the same between them, but it didn't make the butterflies that swarmed in her stomach whenever he was near stop fluttering.

He chuckled lightly. “And I couldn't find another who would be interested in hearing it.”

They plodded along for a minute, neither of them speaking. It could very well turn out to be the last time
she spoke to him, but for the life of her, she didn't know what to say to the man. Of course, the beauty of it being the last time was, well, did it really matter what she said? Her brows came together.

No, it didn't. Just as it wouldn't matter what she did. She glanced at his profile, her pulse fluttering faster as an idea formed.

After a moment, he looked over to her, his eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“We're friends, are we not?”

He nodded, a hint of wariness creasing his forehead.

“And you know that very soon, my mother and I will be returning to Appleton for good?”

“I do,” he said, his voice softening with compassion.

She forged ahead. “Since there will be no more Seasons or festivals for me, it is unlikely that we will meet again.”

He nodded, his eyes trained on the path. “Unfortunately, yes. Though if your circumstances were to change, I would always be glad to see you again.”

Drawing a tight breath, she turned to him. “Then may I ask you a question?”

He flicked his gaze toward her, then slowed the horses to a stop and turned to face her. “By all means.”

“In the labyrinth, before you thought better of it, you kissed me back . . . did you not?” She could hardly believe she was even saying the words, but she didn't look away. She held his gaze evenly, wanting him to see her earnestness.

He shifted uncomfortably. “Sophie—”

“Please, Evan,” she said, interrupting what was sure to be a clever dodge of the question. “Please just say yes or no. I promise it is in no way a trick question, and there is no one to hear us but your matched chestnuts, and I'm
fairly certain they are more interested in eating the grass than listening to our conversation.” She clamped her lips together, attempting to stanch the torrent of words before she made a fool of herself.
More
of a fool, anyway. Still, she pleaded with her eyes, willing him to be honest in this one small thing.

He blew out a breath, but didn't look away. “Yes.”

“So it wasn't completely awful, was it?”

A fleeting smile brushed his lips. “No, not at all. But—”

She didn't let him say whatever qualifier lay at the tip of his tongue. “Then may I ask one more thing?”

He glanced out over the path briefly, shaking his head, before meeting her gaze again. “Why do I feel it would be prudent to say no?”

“Consider it a last wish?” she said hopefully, pouring her heart and soul into her eyes.

“You make it sound as though you're ready to stick your spoon in the wall. You're simply going away for a while. I imagine you will have family and friends aplenty to grant your every wish.” He adjusted the ribbons in his hands, but didn't look away from her.

She shook her head. “No one can grant this wish but you. Evan, I know you don't think of me as anything but a friend. We'll be parting very soon, and before you know it I—and this time we have had together—will be but a distant memory.”

“Sophie—”

But she didn't slow down, didn't let him say whatever logical argument he was building. “But for me, this will always be one of the most magical summers of my life. I'll never forget it, or you, or all the wonderful things I have experienced.

“I know I'm destined to be a spinster. I know that the
best part of my life has been lived. So I ask you, as a friend and a wonderful man whom I not only trust, but admire greatly . . .” She paused, licking her lips and inhaling a steadying breath. “Would you please do me the honor of giving me my last kiss?”

He sat there, watching her with a wealth of unreadable emotion darkening his blue gaze. “Sophie,” he said at last, raspiness touching his normally smooth voice, “I hardly think such a thing would be proper.”

“Good! A lady needs a little adventure to look back on in her life.” She leaned forward, wrapping her fingers around his forearm. “Wouldn't you like to look back and say that you didn't always do the exact proper thing? That once, just because, you took a girl up on her offer and kissed her soundly, knowing full well that you both would walk away with nothing but fondness for one another?”

“And here I thought you were a romantic,” he said dryly.

“I am! The absolute worst, in fact.” She shook her head and sighed. “But the thing is, I've had exactly one kiss. It was entirely of my doing, as will this be, but at least this time you'll be kissing me, as opposed to a rather clumsy ambush on my part.”

“It wasn't clumsy.”

“It was, terribly, and don't try to change the subject. I shan't be diverted.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “You certainly know how to craft an argument, do you know that?”

She grinned, the heady buzz of triumph lifting her heart. “Anyone who talks as much as I do will occasionally manage to wear down the listener.”

Pursing his lips, he glanced about the park. Though not crowded, there still was the occasional passerby. He
flicked the reins, setting them back into motion. Sophie didn't dare speak, not wanting to upset the tentative agreement she had seen in his eyes. Her nerves hummed with anticipation as she tried to remember how to breathe.

Another kiss from Evan; a proper one this time. Well, as proper as a begged-for kiss could be. Still . . . She bit her lip, doing her best to keep her giddiness at bay.

The curricle slowed as Evan eased back on the reins. Ahead, the path wound around a small copse of trees. The low-hanging branches would be the perfect cover for obscuring them from casual observers.

Her blood raced, making her a little light-headed as the carriage pulled to a stop. Evan turned to her, his pale gaze serious. “Are you absolutely certain? Knowing we will soon part ways and perhaps never see one another again?”

She nodded, a rapid movement of her head that answered him when her suddenly tied tongue couldn't. He jumped to the ground, then turned to hand her down. She stood and reached for his hand, but instead he grasped her by the waist and lifted her.
Good heavens!
Her heart roared in her ears as her hands went to his shoulders, and she clung to him as he slowly lowered her to the ground. His eyes never left hers, and she couldn't have looked away if her life had depended on it.

When her feet touched the ground, he didn't release his grip on her. She held her breath as his hands tightened at her waist, holding her securely in place. He didn't pull her against him or step closer to her. He simply held her, his elbows locked at his sides while his gaze skimmed over her face, making her heart race even faster with the intimacy of the moment. His fingers were gentle but firm, his eyes more intense than she would have expected.

His gaze dropped to her lips. She could hardly take the suspense, nearly coming out of her skin with anticipation. His clean, light musk surrounded her, torturing her with his nearness.

“Sophie,” he whispered, shaking his head. “We shouldn't.” But he didn't relax his hold. If anything, he seemed to draw her the slightest bit closer.

“Please, Evan,” she breathed, unable to bear the thought of him pulling away now, when her whole body was aflame with the need to feel his lips on hers. “Just this once.”

Blowing out a breath, he gave the barest hint of a nod. She stood with her head tipped back as she waited for him to move. Wetting his lips, he lowered his head, inch by tantalizing inch, until he was close enough for her to feel the heat of his skin. Then, just when she thought she might die from suspense, his hands flexed at her waist as he dipped down and pressed his lips to hers.