Netherby Halls

“Yes, for I know I was horrid to you yesterday early on, but I was in a terrible mood, and you are not the sort to hold a grudge. You must call me Sophy, what shall I call you?”

Sassy smiled and said her name softly, careful to avoid the marquis’s penetrating gaze.

“Sassy? What is that for?”

“Sassandra.”

“Why—how divine, and how wretchedly jealous I am, for how can my insipid name compare to such as that?” she complained, half in earnest.

“Sophia is a lovely name,” Percy said at once and most sincerely as he came to take his place beside her once more.

Not to be outdone, Lord Grey jumped to the occasion. “Exquisite name, Sophia—soft and bubbling.”

“Oh mush!” Percy exclaimed. “Must you go on so, puppy?”

“I thought his compliment extremely gratifying, Percy, and do not appreciate you referring to my being called soft and bubbling as mush!” the lady in question complained with a pout.

Again, Sassy’s eyes found the marquis’s blue one, and again amusement was shared. What was she going to do? He was the man of her dreams. She knew that, for whatever reasons, he had been chosen by her inner magic to be her mate. Would he feel the same about her? She was so completely mesmerized by him, but was it real?

Suddenly Sophy took Sassy’s arm and pulled her aside. “Come, Sassy, let us leave these awful men and sit comfortably together.”

Sassy allowed herself to be guided down the aisle until they arrived at an empty pew. Sophie pulled at her sleeve and said, “Here.”

It seemed an age, but at last the sermon, which Sassy thought dull and uninspired, so very different than her father’s sermons, was at end and the congregation began filing outdoors.

During the long monotone Sassy could not stop thinking about her father and how much she missed him. Unbidden, a tear formed and fell, and for one moment, Sassy’s composure was threatened.

She felt alone, so totally alone. Feeling thusly, she inched away from Sophia, who had become involved in the bantering between her two admirers at her back.

“Miss Winthrop.” His voice was low, deep and concerned, as he took a seat beside her.

When she turned her face to him without thinking, he frowned and said, “Why, Miss Winthrop, it is as I suspected, for I could not help but note that something was amiss.”

She was surprised and touched by his concern. She looked at her gloved and folded hands in her lap. He was a virtual stranger, and she should not allow him to see her thusly undone. “’Tis nothing, my lord …” Her voice broke on the words, and she gulped.

He took her hand, and his touch even with gloves on both their hands was absolutely riveting. It was as though her entire body immediately leaned towards him looking for more of the same, wanting this—his touching.

“Come,” he said as he gently pulled her up out of the pew and steered her away from the gathering crowd.

“I-I … do beg your pardon,” Sassy managed after an interval. “I am making an absurd cake of myself,” she said, brushing at her damp cheek.

“My dear Miss Winthrop, I have no real notion what the source of your agitation is, though I am inclined to suspect it was that belabored soliloquy we have just had the misfortune to have endured.”

Sassy giggled almost wildly and then caught her breath and shook her head. “Thank you, I needed that.” She sighed. “Papa was such a wonderful vicar—a truly great man—and for a moment,” she said, holding back a sudden urge to cry, “I missed his voice and wished I was away from here and—”

He cut in then and said, “Ah, well, in that you are not alone, my dear. I too have been wishing I was anywhere else but in this church.” Though the marquis spoke gravely, his blue eyes twinkled at her.

Once again Sassy had a good laugh, and the marquis continued, “So then, your papa was a vicar in Sutton Village?”

She eyed him sharply and said, “Yes.”

“I am glad you did not ask me how I knew it was Sutton, for I think you and I remember one another—don’t we?”

What was he asking? What was he doing? Had he felt what she felt in that dream when she first saw him in person across the avenue in Sutton? Was her magic growing and playing tricks on her? Had he seen her on his bed as she had seen him—naked? What was happening to her?

He cocked a look at her that sent another flurry of heat through her, and she couldn’t speak. She was so flooded with confusion and emotion that she simply could not answer him.

“I see that you do remember. You ran from me then. Tell me why?”