Page 22 of Love Unraveled
“Well, let’s hope she does not put you to sleep, Papa,” Lady Walford said with a laugh. “Do help yourself to a beverage, if you don’t already have one, and take a seat.”
Gaston lingered, waiting for Sophie to sit, which she seemed hesitant to do. She’d always been able to guess what he was thinking and had probably assessed he was trying to get close to her. Finally, she sat beside Stratton, and Gaston quickly slipped into the chair to her right. She stiffened but otherwise did not acknowledge his presence.
Miss Langdon, dressed simply in a white gown, sat at the pianoforte and delicately slid on spectacles. She adjusted both the sequence of pages and her eyeglasses before turning and smiling at the small gathering. “I do hope I live up to Lord Stratton’s praise,” she said shyly.
“Oh, you will.” Bentley, sitting in front of Sophie, said it loud enough for everyone to hear.
The young woman blushed scarlet. She glanced toward the doorway, and her smile grew larger despite her embarrassment. Gaston turned to see what had caught her attention. An older man stood in the entrance with an unmistakable look of pride on his face. One sleeve folded and pinned where part of his arm used to be, and his board straight back, denoted his military background. Of course, the girl’s father. Gaston had done his research on the Thornwoods and the Walfords and knew Walford had kept on his batman from the army. Such loyalty spoke highly of both Walford and his man Langdon.
Miss Langdon began to play, and a gentle melody filled the room. There had not been much beauty in Gaston’s world of late, and music was an indulgence long relegated to the past. As the notes grew melancholic, so did he, and he’d no wish to. He leaned toward Sophie.
“I wish to talk with you alone,” he whispered.
Sophie looked straight ahead as though so mesmerized by the music she did not hear him.
“Do not make me repeat myself,” he said more tersely, yet she still did not acknowledge him.
“Ma chérie, Sophie,” he said a little louder, and her head swung toward him as Bentley turned around abruptly with a finger to his lips.
Gaston would have laughed at the man were it not for Sophie glaring at him with wide eyes. She truly was worried her friends would find out she, too, was French. Well, partly anyway. Gaston put a finger to his lips, and satisfied, Bentley returned his attention to Miss Langdon. Gaston grabbed Sophie’s hand and sidled off his chair. She had no choice but to shift across and join him, or she would make a scene. Stratton glanced their way but said nothing.
Miss Langdon’s father leaned back against the doorframe and opened his eyes when they neared.
“I’m overheated,” Sophie said as they slipped by him and into the hall. They were barely out of earshot when she came to a sharp stop. “Gaston,” she growled in warning.
“We will walk, and we will talk.” He could see the debate in her fiery eyes and knew the moment she decided it was far easier not to argue. There was no garden, nor did he want to go outside anyway. Raimondo waited for Sophie, and he might interfere. “Where can we find some privacy?”
She led him through the hall, toward the back of the house, stepping into the study, the door to which was open. He closed it behind them. While he would use it as leverage, he did not truly wish to expose her.
She spun on him instantly. “You are a beast to come here and disrupt my life,” she said in rapid French, flushing with her anger. She took a deep, steadying breath. “We have nothing to talk about.”
She’d switched to English, attempting to dismiss him with cold arrogance. But she’d failed. Her clenched jaw, her tight fists, and the amber flashing in her eyes told him all he needed to know. She was not indifferent. And nor was he. His body hummed at her presence, more alive than it had been in years.
“We have much to talk about but not tonight. Not here.” Gaston kept his voice level as though calming an animal, for it was no different. Her survival instincts were guiding her behavior, and he needed her to see past them. “I am asking for a chance, Sophie. A chance to get to know each other again.”
“You maintain Carmine deliberately harmed you. You think, perhaps, I was a party to such a thing, no? I do not know what your game is, but I will not play it.”
“I play no game, Sophie. I promise. I’ll admit I wanted to see you again so I could say goodbye to the memory of the girl I loved. But I find myself intrigued with the woman she has become. And I would like to get to know her.” He had not meant to be so forthright, but the words were out, and they were the truth.
Sophie shook her head slowly from side to side, but she unclenched her hands and her jaw. “There is no point,” she said quietly, the anger leaving her eyes. “Let us leave the past where it lies.”
“But it is still with us, and it will not disappear simply because you wish it.” He stepped closer and touched her cheek. “It is a part of us, a burden we must carry, or a joy,ma chérie.” This time, he meant the endearment, for he could see his Sophie in her eyes.
Her nostrils flared as she fought emotion, but she did not remove his hand from her cheek. “What is it you want?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Time. I want your time. With your friends. Away from your friends. I want to get to know Sophie Auclair all over again.”
“Sophia Tessaro,” she corrected, stepping back, the momentary connection broken.
His hand dropped to his side, and this time, it was he who had clenched fists. “Sophia Tessaro,” he acknowledged, although his mind screamed,Sophie Auclair Armand. But that was only true in his heart, as they’d not had a chance to get married.
“With the Duke of Salinger vying for my hand, my time is not my own.” Her haughtiness was firmly back in place.
He’d thought she’d exaggerated about the duke but perhaps not. He pushed away rising jealousy. “I insist you give me the opportunity to compete for your attention.”
“But—”
“Sophie, I do not wish to blackmail you into it, but I will do so if you do not willingly agree.” He’d barked his threat, letting his emotions get the better of him. Why did he lose control every time he was near her? He pinched his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, massaging it until he’d put his jealousy back in its place. “A chance, Sophie. It’s all I’m asking. Perhaps you are right and the past should be left alone. But how are we to know, if we walk away from each other now?”
