Sweet Love of Mine

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Emily found Sophie engrossed in a tome of unmentionable literature in her favourite drawing room the following evening.

“Did you put Sebastian up to this?” she demanded, irrationally moved to frustration due to a variety of reasons.

Sophie glanced up, seemingly enraptured by whatever the words on the page before her proclaimed. “Hmm?”

Waving her hand about in a definitively agitated manner, Emily stifled the urge to stomp her foot. Lack of sleep combined with conflicting and disturbing feelings all conspired to make her positively catty. It had resulted in a rather long day of self-imprisonment as she barricaded herself in her room, sending for her meals to be brought to her chambers, as she contemplated all the unexpected occurrences of the past few days. If it weren’t for Victoria Colton’s insistence that Emily accompany her to an amateur musicale later that evening she probably would have remained within her private confines throughout the evening, too.

Regardless, Emily had come to the conclusion that she needed to confront Sophie about the matter.

“Don’t be coy,” she said tersely. “Sebastian proposed.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. “He did? Clever boy.” She set the book aside and gave Emily an intense look. “Did you accept?”

“I haven’t yet decided.”

“Don’t be a fool, girl,” she snorted. “Accept the bloody man. He’s exactly what you wanted in the first place.”

Emily narrowed her eyes. “You put him up to it, didn’t you?” Folding her arms under her breasts, she began to pace. “I hope you realise how miserable you have made me. I can’t think straight nor do I know what I should do. I don’t wish to hurt him but how could he be happy with a girl like me?”

“What the devil are you talking about?” Sophie peered at her quizzically, her aged nose wrinkling with concentration. “Do you have warts?”

“What? Certainly not!”

“Boils? Legions?”

“Sophie, what are you about?” Emily demanded. Her grandmother, she bemoaned silently, was quite mad.

“Are you balding?” Sophie scrutinized the top of Emily’s head before shaking her own. “Never mind. Do not answer. I can see that you are not. I fail to see the problem, then. You should accept him. I, for one, believe that you’d be perfect for a man like Sebastian. He needs you.”

She stilled at that, recalling the shadows that seemed to creep over his limbs in a gloomy caress the night before. Sophie’s words conspicuously mirrored her own and Emily could hardly deny the inkling of truth buried in their layers- he needed her. The startling realisation rippled through her limbs and vibrated at the very core of her bones, filling her with indubitable conviction.

“Unless,” Sophie echoed into the quiet, “you’re a trollop.”

“Grandmamma!”

Sophie blinked at her owlishly. “Heavens, one wouldn’t know these days,” she snorted dismissively. “You could be bedding men from here to Paris for all I knew. Lord knows you’re allowed far too much liberty as it is what with Sebastian staying with us now. Oh, I do hope the boy had sense enough to compromise you.”

If Emily’s cheeks became any hotter than they already were she rather thought a person could make toast on them if they were that way inclined. The guilt must have been openly portrayed on her visage yet the old woman did not notice it or she chose not to. “Of course not,” Emily lied falteringly. She’d never been a very good liar in the first place. Never. In fact, she was remarkably atrocious at it. Thankfully, Sophie chose not to call her out for it, either, or she pretended not to notice. Probably the latter, Emily thought darkly.