She hurried blindly down the hall and, turning a corner abruptly, ran directly into Isobel. Her friend gave a little cry of surprise but then stepped back, looking at Sophy closely.
“Whatever is wrong, my dear?” she asked, concern in her voice.
Sophy turned her face away, hoping Isobel could not see her tears. “Nothing,” she said sullenly.
Isobel placed her hands on Sophy’s shoulders and turned her towards the window. “It’s clearly something. Why are you crying on such a beautiful day as this?”
Sophy tried to turn her face away from the light. “I’m not crying.”
“Of course you are, and I imagine I may be able to guess the cause. Is it Colonel Stirling?”
Sophy shook her head, but said nothing.
Isobel put an arm around her and whisked her through a nearby door into a sitting room. “What a very tedious child you can be,” she said. She sat down on the settee, pulling Sophy down next to her. “Tell me all about it.”
“I am not tedious!”
“I should not have said that,” said Isobel placatingly. “I forget what it is to be newly in love.”
“I am not in love!”
“You are.” Isobel looked at her severely. “You would be better off to acknowledge it now. It took me months to admit to myself what I felt for Francis, and those were months I might have spent happily in his company.”
Sophy raised a hand and dashed away her tears. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand far more than you think. I’ve watched you and Colonel Stirling these past weeks, and hoped the two of you might come to some accommodation. But neither of you appear to be willing to acknowledge what is between you.”
“There is nothing between us!”
Isobel laughed. “You see? I am right.” She looked at Sophy’s crestfallen face and took pity on her. “Tell me about it. Perhaps I can help.”
Sophy clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them. “He is hateful.”
“I’m sure it seems that way to you now. Tell me, has he kissed you?”
Sophy’s head popped up and she stared at Isobel wide-eyed. “What?”
“I’m not a fool, Sophy. The two of you seem to think no one has noticed, and I certainly hope your parents have not, but I am no innocent when it comes to these things. Surely you don’t think that Francis never kissed me before we married.”
Sophy blinked. “I never thought about it.”
“Of course you didn’t. It must seem to you as though we have always been married. But we were at cross purposes for many months before we came to terms. It was a confusing time, but also very exciting.” Isobel gave a little sigh. “Sometimes I miss it.”
“You do?”
“We are not here to talk about me,” said Isobel. “What is the problem with Colonel Stirling?”
“He—I—we—”
“Then he has kissed you,” said Isobel.
Sophy nodded her head silently.
“And has he done more than kiss you?”
Sophy nodded again.
“I see.” Isobel viewed her gravely. “Is it possible you are with child?”
Sophy jumped. “Isobel!”
“Well, is it?” asked her friend patiently.
“No, we have not done that,” said Sophy miserably. “Though I told him he might, and he did not want to.”
Isobel gave a quick sigh of relief before asking in a surprised tone, “What do you mean, he didn’t want to? If ever I’ve seen a man panting after a woman, it is Ranulf when he sees you.”
Sophy’s eyes widened. “Do you think so?”
Isobel laughed. “I know so. He might as well be a pointer faced with a quail.”
“Then why did he become unbearably stuffy and tell me that my father’s presence precluded such a thing? And say that he had overstepped his bounds, and that kissing me was wrong?”
“Oh my. That does sound stuffy.” Isobel patted her hand. “But he is right, you know. You are the daughter of a noble family, and if he were to—well, to despoil you—then it would be the act of a cad.”
“But I asked him to despoil me! He not only said no, but he asked me to marry him!”
Isobel looked startled. “He proposed to you?”
“Yes,” Sophy spat out. “It made me so angry!”
“Angry?” repeated Isobel, bewildered.
“Yes! I have made it quite clear that I mean to be a painter, and no man’s wife. He proposed only because he needs an heir, and he knows that I—I want to—that I want him to despoil me, and he thinks he can thus satisfy both our needs.”
Isobel looked perplexed. “Did he say that?”
“Yes,” said Sophy flatly.
“I find it difficult to believe he said something like that.”
“I hate him,” stated Sophy.
Isobel fought back the urge to laugh again, and took both Sophy’s hands in hers. “Listen to me, my dear. I see that you and Ranulf have gotten yourselves into a tangle. I think it might rival even the situation Francis and I created for ourselves. Tell me, do you want to marry him?”
“No.” Sophy hesitated. “Or maybe I do—but not because I would be an appropriate wife!”
Isobel sighed. “I suppose he said that as well?”
“He did.”
“The two of you seem to have handled this very badly.” Isobel shrugged. “I will tell you something in the hopes that it might help you. I allowed Francis to—to despoil me—before we were wed.”
Sophy’s eyes grew very round. “You did?”
“I did. Indeed, I asked him, just as you seem to have asked Ranulf. Of course, I was older than you are now, and living my own life. My parents were dead and I had my own home. Francis obliged me, and very exciting it was, too.” She gazed off into the distance for a moment, a dreamy expression on her face, but then pulled herself back to the present. “I do not say it is the right course for you to take also, but if you truly wish to experience that with Ranulf, I think it would take very little effort on your part to convince him.”
Sophy face reflected her shock. “Are you telling me to seduce Colonel Stirling?”
“I am not telling you to do anything,” said Isobel briskly. “You must give serious thought to what you want. If you do, you must remember that marriage might very well be the ultimate end. I thought I was simply embarking on an affaire, and, here I am, married these past seven years and with a babe. Things do not always turn out as you expect.”
“I don’t wish to marry him,” said Sophy, aware that her voice lacked conviction.
“Well, you must do as you think best.” Isobel stood. “Your mother is waiting for me so we can stroll in the gardens. I hope I have given you plenty to think about. Oh, and please do not repeat to Harriet what I have told you! She would be shocked beyond belief.”
Sophy smiled at that. “Of course I won’t.” She hesitated. “Thank you, Isobel.”
“I’m not at all sure you should be thanking me. Indeed, I may have just made things much worse. But I do want you to be happy, Sophy. Think about what it is you truly want.”
Isobel left the room, and Sophy leaned back on the settee, a thoughtful look on her face.
Chapter 20
After leaving Sophy, Ranulf strode angrily through castle, eventually repairing to the library. Inside this sanctuary the linenfold Jacobean paneling glowed softly from centuries of polishing as the rays of early afternoon sun slanting through the gothic arched windows touched it, and made the gold stamped titles on the book spines glisten. He dropped down heavily into a leather wing backed chair next to an Indian brass table bearing glasses and a decanter of whiskey. He snorted.
“Is something wrong?”
Ranulf jumped, and turned his head to see that Francis was sitting behind the desk, a book in his hand.
“Oh, lord,” he said.
Francis put down his book and stood up leisurely, strolling over and seating himself in the chair opposite his friend. H
e silently poured two fingers of the amber fluid into each of two tumblers, and handed one to the colonel. Ranulf accepted it gratefully, and the men sipped in companionable silence for a few minutes.
“This is an excellent whisky,” Francis murmured with satisfaction.
“Och aye,” Ranulf responded with an exaggerated accent. “Awa’ wi’ your Border country whiskey. Ye’ll not find a wee dram like that outside o’ the glens and the islands.”
Francis laughed. “I can see I’ll need to visit Spaethness more often.”
“I find I really enjoy having visitors here,” Ranulf said, reverting to a normal tone. “I hadn’t expected to.”
“It’s a beautiful place, and an even more beautiful home. I’m glad you were able to convince Isobel to abandon her digging for a few days so we could see it.”
“I suffer from familiarity, and don’t always realize what a treasure Spaethness is, so I’m grateful for the chance to view it through your eyes,” Ranulf answered. “It’s also more of a home when there are friends here. I don’t feel the restlessness I did when I was immured here last winter with only my father for company.”
“As delightful as it is in the summer, I do understand how a winter alone here could make a man chase the neighboring ladies,” Francis remarked with a lazy grin.
“Perhaps you realize that I no longer have an interest in neighboring ladies, no matter how lovely?” Ranulf asked obliquely.
“You mean Sophy, of course.”
“To be sure. When I met her, I was not impressed, but I’ve learned she has a strength of mind that I admire.”
“She’s lovely too,” Francis pointed out.
“That’s certainly part of it,” Ranulf admitted. “But I have enjoyed the charms of a number of ladies, and not considered wedding any of them.”
Francis swirled the whiskey around in his glass. “Sophy claims to have no interest in marriage. Have you been able to change her mind?”
“No, that is the devil of it. I have hopes that this visit will alter her views, but have no notion of how to go about it.”
“And you think I do, because of my long pursuit of Isobel?” Francis asked.
Ranulf looked a bit sheepish. “I hoped you might. She swore she wouldn’t give up her studies for matrimony, just as Sophy now says she would rather paint than marry.”
“I hope you are feeling patient, my friend,” Francis responded ruefully. “It took me a year to coax her into it.”
“What was it that brought her around?”
“There were two things. The first was that I convinced her she would be able to pursue her studies, and that I would not mistreat her.”
“Mistreat her? Why did she fear you would do such a thing?”
“Her friend, Letitia, who is now the Marchioness of Eynsford, was trapped in a very bad marriage at the time, and Isobel was very aware of the iniquities of marital law. Sophy was so young then that she knew little of the details of the situation, so I think your problem lies largely in overcoming her fears you will prevent her from painting.” He paused a moment. “Of course, there is also the matter of persuading her marriage has advantages. That is the second thing that convinced Isobel.”
Ranulf digested this in silence for a moment. “I, uh, have reason to believe that Sophy is aware there may be certain pleasures to be found in marriage.”
Francis glanced sideways at his friend and flashed a smile. “I found that Isobel’s resistance to matrimony lessened considerably when she realized exactly how much pleasure might be found in the marital bed.”
Ranulf blinked. “So you and Isobel—before you were married—”
“Precisely.”
Ranulf took a gulp of whiskey. “I take your point. At least, I think I do.”
“These strong-willed women need to be shown that there are advantages to marriage,” said Francis lightly. “I do feel I should point out, however, that good friends or no, we will be meeting at dawn if you trifle with Lady Sophia with any other intent than to persuade her to marry you.”
“You need not speak to me in that menacing way, Exencour. My intentions are completely honorable. It is the young lady who is trifling with my affections, if you ask me.”
Francis looked surprised. “I beg your pardon?”
“The girl propositioned me not fifteen minutes ago,” said Ranulf. “I proposed we marry instead.”
“You did what?”
Ranulf looked uncomfortable. “I could not take Lady Sophia while her father is under my roof! Besides, I have need of a wife, and she would be more than suitable.”
Francis looked horrified. “You didn’t say as much to her, did you?”
“I did.”
“I suppose she must have turned you down cold.”
“She did.”
Francis shook his head. “My understanding was that you have a way with the fairer sex, but I am beginning to doubt you have ever talked to a woman in your life.”
Ranulf scowled. “Sophy is not like the other women I know.”
“You are calling her Sophy, are you?” Francis chuckled. “How far has this gone, Ranulf?”
“Not far enough for Sophy, apparently.” Ranulf drained his glass and poured another. “She gave me to understand that she would be glad to allow me any liberties I chose, but she would not marry me.”
“If I were a young woman and a gentleman expressed his opinion that I would make excellent breeding stock, I wouldn’t marry him either,” said Francis.
“I did not say that!”
“No, but it’s what she heard. Lord, Ranulf, I never thought you to be thick witted.”
Ranulf sank back in his chair. “What do I do now?”
Francis regarded him steadily. “That is up to you. But making her aware of what she would be missing were she not to marry you might be a good start.” He drained his glass and stood. “I will leave you alone with your thoughts, my friend.”
Francis left the room and Ranulf sank back into his chair, his glass cradled in his hands and a thoughtful expression on his face.
Chapter 21
Sophy seemed to come to a conclusion, for she stood suddenly and ran from the sitting room, making her way to her bedchamber. The sun streaming through the large windows made the polished marquetry of the bed and escritoire shine, while the straw colored walls and bedclothes were gilded with the same light. As her footsteps crossed the plush savonnerie carpet she felt some of her uncertainty drain away, and went to stand at the window, looking out over the loch. Isobel’s words flooded back to her, and she found herself contemplating the pleasure of Ranulf’s company, and the desire for more he elicited in her. A smile flitted across her face, and a moment or two later, she reached for the bell pull and rang it vigorously.
When Wallis arrived, Sophy gestured at the old dress she wore. “I think I will walk in the garden for a bit, Wallis, but I must change my dress, as you can see. It is quite warm this afternoon, so the pale yellow sarsenet dress with my Kashmir shawl will do nicely.”
“What a wonderful notion, Lady Sophia. That is quite your prettiest walking dress.” Wallis disappeared into the dressing room and returned with the garments, and set about removing Sophy’s paint-marked muslin gown. “I can hardly believe you let Colonel Stirling see you in a rag like this,” Wallis said as she pulled it over Sophy’s head.
“What would you have me do? Ruin a better dress while painting?”
“Of course not, Lady Sophia, but I’m glad to see you wearing such a becoming gown this afternoon.”
“It hardly matters,” Sophy replied nonchalantly. “After all, there is no one here to see it.”
“But Colonel Stirling--” the maid started to say.
“Colonel Stirling’s opinion is nothing to me.”
Wallis turned away to hide a smile. “If you say so, my lady,” she replied neutrally.
Sophy was soon clad in the dress, which featured the new fashion for a slightly lower waistline with a belt that emphasized her fi
ne bosom and narrow middle. It had a rather high neckline, with an attractive collar edged with lace, but since a row of buttons marched down the bodice on one side, Sophy felt that it would not be much of a deterrent to her plans. She allowed Wallis to settle a fetching bonnet ornamented with tartan ribbons over her curls, and drape a soft red Kashmir shawl with a floral border and fringe over elbows, before inspecting herself in the cheval mirror.
“Perfect, Wallis!” she exclaimed with a little clap of her hands.
Wallis watched with a bit of a smirk as Sophy sailed out of the room.
Sophy was soon downstairs, and allowed a footman to open the door onto the terrace so she could step outside. As she did so, she spied Ranulf on the lawn below, and halted. She realized that if she stood on the terrace, slightly above the lawn, she would be more visible and she therefore moved so she could stand near the railing and look out at the loch, seemingly unaware of Ranulf’s presence.
She had only been there only a few moments, when she heard the sound of feet on the steps behind her, and she turned, her face showing surprise. Ranulf too seemed to have decided that the afternoon sunshine required a change of clothing, for he was looking extremely tonnish in a dark blue superfine coat, pale biscuit pantaloons, and a pair of Hessians boasting a blinding shine that would have been acceptable at the Hyde Park promenade hour during the height of the Season.
He walked towards her, and Sophy felt a shiver of desire run through her at the sight of his lithe body. He drew near, and took her hand as though to kiss it conventionally, but instead turned it over and raised her palm to his lips instead. She flushed as his mouth lingered for a moment, and he finally raised his head and smiled at her.
“I must apologize for quarreling with you earlier,” Ranulf said. “Can you forgive me?”
Sophy looked up at him through her lashes. “I can try,” she said, with a little smile.
“Let me see what I can do to convince you. It is a fine afternoon; will you walk in the gardens with me?”
The Highlander's Yuletide Love Page 14