“Of course, Mr. Kingsley I would like that.” Sophie groaned at herself, though she knew there was no other response. Heartbreak was an acceptable risk if it allowed her the opportunity to spend a few hours in private conversation with Mr. Kingsley. His company was too enticing, and Sophie couldn’t recall the last time she’d been afforded such friendship; her parents’ circle of acquaintance did not boast many with whom Sophie wished to converse.
For his part, Mr. Kingsley appeared pleased and altogether unaffected by her declaration, giving her a bright nod before shifting positions so he might offer her his hand.
“Friends, then?”
Sophie scrunched her nose with a laugh at the highly ridiculous handshake, but as she was tramping about in the countryside sans bonnet or gloves alongside a gentleman with whom she could not fashion a romance despite her heart’s determination to do so, it seemed rather fitting to break even more with convention and take his hand in hers.
“Friends it is, Mr. Kingsley.” It would be easier to speak such words with utter sincerity if her heart did not thump a staccato against her ribs at the touch of his hand. Rolling her eyes inwardly, Sophie cringed away from her silly behavior.
Silly Little Sophie, indeed. Her brother would forever mock her if he knew she fairly swooned over a touch.
Chapter 10
“Now, you must tell me what your plans are for your drawings,” said Mr. Kingsley, his posture relaxing once more as she returned to her work.
“Plans?”
“You’ve spoken with such enthusiasm about naturalism in all its forms and are collecting drawings of various subjects if the thickness of your sketch journal is any indication,” he said, nodding at the book on her lap. “It appears to me you are working towards something important.”
Sophie cast a look at him but forced herself to keep her eyes trained on her subject; that was far safer. “It is only for my own amusement.”
Silence met that for a moment, and Sophie wondered what had the gentleman so pensive. Then he spoke with a tone filled with admiration. “So, you do it for the love of the thing.”
“You sound surprised at that.”
Mr. Kingsley sat upright and plucked a blade of grass, rubbing it between his fingers. “So many care about fame and fortune. Or prestige. They are not content with merely being a partaker; they must be a leader. It is admirable to see someone who finds joy in a thing regardless of whether or not she receives any praise or recognition for her efforts.”
Being seized by a fit of honesty, Sophie smiled at her painting and replied, “You give me too much credit, sir. A love of freedom is as much a motivator as my passion for nature. It is not untoward for a young lady to spend hours alone pursuing such interests nowadays, so rather than being shackled to my mother’s side, my studies provide a means by which to escape.”
The gentleman stilled, and though Sophie refused to look up from her work, she felt his gaze on her.
“I was delighted to meet your sister last night.” It was the first subject that flew into Sophie’s mind, and she latched onto it. “Lily is exactly as you described her.”
“You remember that?” A glance in Mr. Kingsley’s direction showed an expression to mirror his surprised tone.
Sophie chided herself for being so forthright and hurried to cover the fact that she had thought of Mr. Kingsley and their evening together many times.
“It is impossible to forget such enthusiasm,” she said, mimicking his earlier words.
Mr. Kingsley broke into a grin. “Lily can be a pest at times, mind you, but I adore her.”
“Any self-respecting little sister is a pest at times. It is a requirement of the position.”
“Spoken like a true little sister,” he replied with a laugh.
“I do my best, though I fear my brothers do not enjoy the requisite annoyances as you do.” She’d meant it to be a lighthearted reply, but Mr. Kingsley was silent. It was several moments before he spoke again.
“Are you mistreated?”
Sophie gave a start, her eyes flying to Mr. Kingsley. “Not at all. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”
The tightness in his shoulders eased, and Mr. Kingsley picked at the blades of grass in his hands. “There is a sadness to your voice when you speak of your family, and I feared the worst.”
Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Sophie turned back to her work.
“They do care for me in their way…” Sophie was uncertain how to describe it. “However, I often feel like a stranger among them. Not unwanted per se, but…”
She searched for the word. “Misunderstood.”
Shrugging it off, she focused on her sketch. “I would not have you thinking I am miserable. My family may think my hobbies are silly and meaningless, but still, my parents allow me the freedom to pursue them.” Giving a false chuckle, she added, “Though I believe Mama allows it because she doesn’t know what to do with me, and it is easier to leave me be.”
What had possessed her to say such a thing? Sophie’s hands paused, her whole body stilling as she stared sightlessly at her painting.
“Miss Banfield…” Mr. Kingsley began to speak. His tone was so gentle and warm, and Sophie knew she ought not to have said such a thing.
Setting aside her paintbrush, Sophie held up the painting, examining it this way and that. “I suppose it will have to do for now, and we are expected back at the house.”
Mr. Kingsley’s brow furrowed, and a hint of disappointment entered his gaze at her diversion, but for all their claims of friendship, Sophie knew it was better this way. As much as her heart wanted to pour out its troubles to him, it was not her place to lay that burden on him. Mr. Kingsley was a kind gentleman, and she would enjoy their time together, but there was nothing more to it.
Shoulders dropping, he nodded at her as he assisted her in cleaning up her tools. “Your painting is finer than you give yourself credit for.”
“You are being kind.”
“You are being short-sighted.”
Sophie rose to her feet, brushing off her skirt and apron. “I suppose we shall just have to agree to disagree in this instance.”
But Mr. Kingsley met that with a challenging raise of his brows. “If you think I intend to listen to you denigrate your talent, you are very mistaken. I shan’t allow you to speak of my friend in such a manner.”
Grabbing the strap of her satchel, Sophie lifted it, but Mr. Kingsley took it from her before she could rest it on her shoulder. With a gallant bow, he motioned in the direction of Hardington Hall, and Sophie caught herself before she took his arm. Though she could use the uneven ground as an excuse to hold tight to him, Sophie knew better than to allow herself such closeness.
They were friends. Nothing more. That was enough.
***
London was no mere seasonal stay for Victoria. She’d been born in that indomitable city, and excepting visits to her family and friends’ country seats, she rarely left Town. To her thinking, there was nothing finer than the bright blaze of streetlamps aglow in the evening fog or a tour of the Park with all of society stuffed into that patch of green. The buildings loomed up with impressive heights, cradling the people traversing its streets like a kindly nursemaid. And the country felt empty by comparison.
That was not to say she disliked these jaunts to the countryside. The fields around the Nelsons’ home stretched out in all directions, and there was no denying the beauty before her. The sky above was as blue as she’d ever seen, and the few clouds dotting it were unspoiled puffs of cotton. The grass glowed with an unearthly green, and the view was the definition of picturesque.
But their party had chosen a spot on a particularly fine hill to take their luncheon, and from this vantage, Victoria could not spy the village proper or any other sign of civilization, and there was something so lonely about it. As though they were the last vestiges of humanity in this vast swath of green, which was rather unsettling to her thinking.
“It is so wonderful to have you here,” said Phyllis as she came to stand beside Victoria. “I did miss you all terribly. To think you were all off having fun in London without me. I don’t know if I will ever forgive Mama and Papa for forgoing the Season this year.”
“And I missed you,” replied Victoria.
“We were positively lost without our font of all secrets,” added Hettie with a smile.
Phyllis gave them an arched brow. “You needn’t pretty it up for my sake. I know I am a notorious gossip. I cannot help it if I find myself privy to juicy little tidbits, and it is only fair that I share my bounty.”
Victoria laughed. “How so?”
“Is it right for me to deny others the joy of knowing all? That would be selfish,” replied Phyllis with an indignant sniff.
“You are a goose,” replied Victoria.
“But that is why we adore you,” added Hettie.
Phyllis fairly preened before turning them away from the view to spy on the others. “Now, do you wish to know who has his eye on our little Miss Miriam?”
Victoria straightened, her gaze darting towards her sister, who was holding court alongside Miss Essie Dosett. The bachelors were gathered around the girls, who flirted and laughed with all the natural grace their young age and lack of experience allowed them.
“Please say it is Julius,” murmured Victoria.
“I might be honored that you hope it is my brother if it weren’t for the fact that he is the only one in attendance near her age,” replied Hettie.
Victoria set a gimlet eye on Mr. Allen Banfield, who looked amused at the girls’ antics but with more of an avuncular than amorous air, while the Dosett brothers were more interested in outshining each other than catching a young lady’s eye—until the elder caught sight of Phyllis. With a smile, Charles Dosett raised a hand, but she returned it with a frown and a cold shoulder, taking her friends by the arms and dragging them away.
“Have you given up on the Dosett heir?” asked Victoria.
“Now you are being a goose. Why would I abandon such a prospect?” Phyllis laughed with a roll of her eyes. “No, I laid my traps last night, and he walked right into them. If I were to show any true interest in him so early in the game, he might wriggle free. Nothing stirs a man to action like being denied that which he desires.”
“Is that how you snared Mr. Farthing?” asked Hettie with a sly smile.
“You are wicked!” replied Phyllis with a gaping glare that held more amusement than anger.
But Hettie chuckled at that.
“Do you recall our first Season when we were that carefree?” Victoria motioned towards the young girls. “Our only goal was to flirt with a handsome gentleman, and courtship seemed such a simple thing.”
Both ladies at her side drew in long breaths, letting out a sigh as they cast glances at the innocent young girls. Regardless of her and Phyllis’s determination to marry by whatever means and Hettie’s to avoid the institution altogether, there had been a time when the three of them had spent countless hours dreaming and giggling over the loves they’d hoped to find.
What would those girls think of the women they’d become?
Chapter 11
“And why are you so maudlin, Miss Victoria Caswell?” asked Phyllis. “That was far too sad a statement to go unchallenged, for you are soon to be engaged to Mr. Oliver Kingsley, and I to Mr. Charles Dosett.”
“Ninny,” teased Hettie. “You hardly know the gentleman. I cannot imagine marrying anyone whom I did not love to distraction. What is the point otherwise?”
“Not all of us are blessed with parents who will provide a healthy income whether or not we choose to marry,” said Phyllis.
Hettie pulled them to a stop and faced Phyllis. “I do apologize. I hadn’t meant to be callous.”
“There is no need to castigate yourself,” said Phyllis, taking Hettie’s arm once more. “It is merely the way of the world, and I could do far worse than Mr. Charles Dosett. I count myself quite lucky to have another opportunity after Mr. Farthing slipped the hook. I only hope Miriam will not waste the opportunity she has here.”
“She is far too young to be thinking of marriage,” said Victoria. “She is only just eighteen. It is one thing for her to be out in company, but another for her to be earnestly pursuing matrimony.”
“Phyllis has a point,” said Hettie. “If she means to marry, Miriam shouldn’t waste time dithering. She is young and pretty—”
“I did overhear a certain Mr. Julius Nelson speak of her fine figure and lovely eyes,” added Phyllis with a sly smile.
Hettie continued as though she hadn’t heard, “—and you hail from two exceptional families. All that will make up for any other deficiencies…” Her words died an instant death, and she hemmed for a moment before hurrying on to say, “But many a lady blessed with beauty fails because she forgets that her beauty and youth are fleeting.”
Victoria’s breath caught at the implication—however slight. Maintaining the implacable facade, she hid her speeding heartbeat and the tightness in her chest behind a nonplussed air. She glanced in her friend’s direction, but with Phyllis between them, Victoria could not read Hettie’s expression.
“Deficiencies?” asked Victoria with a near flawless laugh. “Ought I to be offended over such an insinuation?”
Hettie’s eyes grew round, and she bent around Phyllis to meet Victoria’s gaze with an apologetic look. “Of course not. I was merely speaking from the perspective of the fickle gentlemen, who like to fabricate deficiencies.”
But Hettie’s hurried reply was too stilted to calm Victoria’s troubled heart. Casting her mind to the past, she thought through her behavior, wondering if she had done anything to reveal her family’s secrets, but nothing came to mind. They were far too practiced at hiding their empty coffers to make any obvious missteps. There was only one person with whom she had shared their secret, and Mr. Dixon wasn’t one to gossip.
“Now who is being a goose, Hettie?” asked Phyllis, casting a side glance at Victoria as the lady’s hold on her arm grew taut. “You forget that the Caswell family is soon to be intimately connected with the Kingsleys’ vast holdings. That, in addition to Miriam’s natural attractions and family connections, will have the gentlemen clamoring to court her. I merely hope she does not take too long to choose herself a husband. If I could give the Phyllis of yesteryear any advice, it would be to avoid passing over viable options because she hopes something better might come along.”
As the trio strolled around the edge of the gathering, Hettie and Phyllis rambled on about the party, matrimony, and all the other topics of utmost concern, but Victoria’s thoughts could not travel past the previous subject’s undertone. For all that the gentry claimed discussing money was vulgar and beneath them, they all had a thorough knowledge of the finances of various families and each lady’s dowry or lack thereof.
Victoria’s eyes moved without command, drifting towards Mr. Dixon. He did not look in her direction. He did not need to. Deep in conversation with the other gentlemen, he seemed unaware of her, but she felt his attention. Felt his presence. It permeated the air around her.
Her Mr. Dixon.
“Doesn’t he look handsome today?” murmured Phyllis.
“Quite,” replied Victoria, not bothering to hide the admiration thick in her voice. There was no harm in admitting that truth, for anyone with eyes could see that the gentleman was quite appealing.
“But why is he with Miss Banfield?”
Phyllis’s question had Victoria’s brows pulling together, for Miss Banfield had not yet appeared at the picnic. But her gaze traveled past Mr. Dixon to the paths that led from Hardington Hall, and she saw Mr. Kingsley escorting the young lady in question.
“Because he is a gentleman,” replied Hettie. “Would you expect him to abandon a lady to walk alone?”
“I was merely commenting on how strange it was to see the pair together,” said Phyllis, though her tone held a touch of
curiosity that was anything but innocent.
Hettie huffed at that. “What a wicked insinuation. Mr. Kingsley adores our Victoria, and rightly so.”
“I thought the same of Mr. Farthing,” came the quick reply.
Victoria squeezed Phyllis’s arm. “You’ve suffered a terrible loss, Phyllis, but that does not make every gentleman suspect. I do not doubt Mr. Kingsley’s honor.”
No, if there were any straying eye, it belonged to her. But that was all it could be. A glance. Lingering looks. There was no future with Mr. Dixon. For Miriam and the other Caswell daughters, Victoria could not allow herself to marry a penniless man.
*
Some moments were near perfect; everything in the world seemed right, filling one with such bliss that the thought of it ending was painful. In all honesty, Sophie did not have many of those moments. A few were scattered throughout her youth, but they’d become increasingly rare with age, and with five and twenty years to her credit, Sophie was hard-pressed to think of any other moment that compared to this morning.
Striding alongside Mr. Kingsley, it was easy to forget the rest of the world as they talked about a great many things, traversing subjects that likely would have shocked a parlor full of morning callers; Sophie couldn’t understand why anyone chose the weather over debating favorite books and artists.
Caught up in Mr. Kingsley’s spell, it was easy to forget that her only claim on him was friendship, and it wasn’t until they wound their way into the picnic that Sophie recalled the truth of their situation. The servants had laid out a mountain of baskets with a veritable feast atop a smattering of ground covers for those who wished to enjoy the picnic to its fullest and even a few chairs for those whose age or dignity did not allow for such repose. The guests mingled around, but her eyes immediately fell to Miss Caswell.
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