“This hair is lovely.” Abigail twisted a strand and held it up. “See how it catches the light?”
Sophia glanced in the mirror at the three women hovering nearby, offering opinions on hair and accessories. As sweet as it was, it was also disturbing.
Lady Adelaide broke away first. “I leave you in good hands, Miss Fitzroy. I want to save my first look of the total package for when you enter the drawing room.”
Instead of following Miss Snowley and Lady Adelaide to the door, Miss Hancock went into the dressing room. She emerged with a tidy bundle of clothing. Sophia’s clothing. “I’ll take these with me, shall I? Wouldn’t want you to get ideas. Not to worry, I’ll have them put back as soon as you come downstairs.”
Sophia fought to tamp down the panic as the door closed behind the women. Just when she was about to jump up and run after them to retrieve her dress, the door opened and Miss Snowley stepped back inside. “I almost forgot.”
She skipped over to the bed and picked up a pair of trousers in the same material as the gown. They weren’t as wide legged as Sophia’s riding trousers, but there was no denying what they were. “You don’t have to wear these, but we didn’t know if you’d be more comfortable in them.”
“I only wear them when I’m riding,” she choked out. Only the hot iron Abigail had wound into her hair kept her from melting to the floor.
“No matter. I’ll just leave them here if you want them.”
Then she was gone again, and Sophia was alone with the maid, her new dress, and a thick, twisted emotion in her gut. Fear? Excitement? It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, she knew the only way to get through this evening was to do exactly what Jonas had asked of her.
Stay here. Stay in the moment. See the distance between reality and the horizon.
For tonight, the dreams had to be left on the pillow where they belonged.
AARON TUGGED AT the sleeve of his jacket. Oliver’s jacket, actually, since all Aaron’s formal clothes were in London. More evidence that his life wasn’t staying in the boxes he’d organized it into. He didn’t attend social gatherings in Newmarket, at least none that required full evening kit, but he hadn’t been able to tell Trent no when he’d said tonight’s dinner would be a celebration of the upcoming races.
Why tonight had to be different from the other dinner gatherings the man had been hosting, Aaron didn’t know.
Then Sophia walked into the drawing room.
Every inch of her looked exquisite. Just yesterday she’d been racing him across the Heath, a streak of mud on her cheek, a joyous laugh erupting as the wind pulled locks of hair from her bun. She’d been comforting. Approachable.
Now she looked . . . well, she looked like she belonged in this drawing room far more than he did. Unlike his ill-fitting sleeves, the dress fit every curve to perfection, as if it had been made for her. Guessing whom the dress must have come from, it probably had been.
It made her look perfect. Untouchable.
And yet, she was here only by the grace and invitation of the hosts, just like he was.
The swirl of conflicting ideas and logic made him dizzy. This was why life needed to stay in the little niches he’d carved out. Everything was simpler when he knew where he was, who he needed to be, and what was expected of him.
Nothing had been simple since he’d set his eyes on Sophia Fitzroy.
He crossed the room to offer her a glass of sherry. “You’re lovely.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the glass but shifted it slowly from one hand to the other instead of drinking. “It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“Being in this room.”
“You’ve been in here every night.”
She ran a hand down her skirt. “Not like this.”
“Did you not socialize before?”
She shook her head. “My parents attended local assemblies, but I was too young. Then Father died. I’ve attended a few servant parties since then, and people often celebrate at fairs, but those aren’t elaborate gatherings. People don’t change clothing before attending.”
Aaron took a sip to hide his reaction. These dinners and this party were her first polite entertainments. “I’m beginning to realize my life hasn’t been as difficult as I thought.”
He hadn’t meant to say the musing aloud, but he was glad he had when her fingers stopped dancing along the stem of the glass and the clever smile he’d seen so often the past few days returned. “Do tell. And I mean that. I have to hear all your stories from Lord Trent and Lord Farnsworth.”
“They tell them better than I could. I haven’t the flair.”
For every story his friends shared, Aaron had a matching, far less pleasant tale. Much better for her to hear from someone who hadn’t endured the pointed glares, who hadn’t pretended not to hear the whispered slanders, who hadn’t learned to sew so he could buy his school robes too large because his father refused to replace them if he grew in the middle of the year.
“Where did you grow up?”
He shook his head. “Not here.”
“Obviously not here. You aren’t even related to Lord Trent.”
“I think this estate came with Lady Adelaide.”
“Not my point.”
“Not mine either.” He looked around the room at the elegance and the beauty, the richness of both the people and the surroundings. “I meant I’d rather not tell you here.”
She stood a little straighter, her eyes brightening. “But you will tell me?”
His eyes roved her face, and despite the dismal feeling the promise inspired, he couldn’t help but absorb some of her excitement. “I’ll tell you.”
“Good.” She lifted the glass to her lips, eyes widening as the drink slid over her tongue.
“First time having sherry?”
She nodded. “First time for a lot of things.”
“So I gather.”
She fanned her skirt out with one hand. “I don’t know what this fabric is, but it’s the first time I’ve felt it. Nor have I ever worn a dress like this.”
Aaron glanced down at the gown but didn’t give it too much attention. He was already having a difficult time ignoring his easily created excuses to end up in a horse stall with her again. There would be no more kissing unless he changed his mind and embraced the foolish ideas she inspired.
Still, he’d been in enough social situations to know a man could not allow a woman to mention her dress and not receive a compliment. “The dress is pretty.” His clumsy attempt made him wince.
“It seems so delicate. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“How would you ruin it?” He gave the dress another look, taking in the tiny waistline and flowing drape of the gown. “It’s not as if you’d wear it down to the stable.”
“I think they want me to. There are matching trousers.”
Aaron’s gaze drifted back toward her legs, even though it shouldn’t.
“I’m not wearing them right now,” she said, nudging him in the shoulder. “But they made sure I knew they were available. I think I’m tonight’s entertainment.”
Aaron’s brows drew together as he studied her face. The wistful sadness he saw stabbed him in the chest. “That’s not how these evenings work.”