Chapter 3

Lady Sophia entered the bustling ballroom, the shimmering gowns and lively music creating an atmosphere filled with anticipation and gaiety. Her gaze, instinctively seeking Philip amidst the sea of faces, noted his absence.

Philip was typically part of a larger group at these functions, Sophia had noticed. His broad shoulders and booming laugh made him stand out, even from across the ballroom, so it was easy to dismiss Lord Walden as not yet arrived. A curious mix of relief and disappointment stirred within Sophia, and she fought to conceal her reaction.

As she gracefully navigated the room, the weight of curious gazes followed her, whispering conversations and subtle nods acknowledging her presence. Sophia's hand trembled slightly as suitors began to surround her, eagerly requesting dances and scribbling their names on her dance card almost before they bothered to introduce themselves.

"Lady Sophia, might I have the pleasure of this dance?" A young gentleman, impeccably dressed in a navy blue coat and pristine cravat, stepped forward with a bow.

Sophia imagined the way Philip would imitate the young man if he saw the nervous way he flicked his head. She was sure he would compare the suitor to some carrion-bird in a clever way.

Sophia managed a polite smile, the scent of lavender and polished wood wafting through the air. "Certainly, Sir Edward," she replied, her voice measured and courteous as she allowed him to add his name to her card.

Sir Edward's shoulders were not broad, and he did not have a broad chest that begged for freedom from his shirt buttons.

Where is Philip?

Another suitor, with slicked-back hair and an air of ostentation, approached next. "Lady Sophia, might I have the honor of this waltz?"

She glanced at her dance card, the scratch of pen against paper adding the name of Lord Theodore, and acquiesced with a gracious nod.

Lord Theodore had the air of someone who had never laughed once in his life, and Sophia could immediately hear Philip's laugh booming in her head, softening to the chuckles they shared as their mirth left them gasping for breath, faces far too close for propriety.

The room hummed with activity as suitors continuously vied for her attention, each one seeking to secure a place on her dance card. Her mother stood by her side, her eyes keenly observing each gentleman who approached.

"Ah, Lady Sophia, there's Lord Henry," Patience remarked, her tone tinged with approval as she assessed the gentleman. "He would make a fine match."

It took all of Sophia's strength not to roll her eyes at yet another gentleman trying to claw his way up the ranks by marriage, tripping over himself to offer the correct opinions she agreed with.

Philip could never be so bland.

Sophia glanced around once more, still holding onto her fading hope that, perhaps, Philip would stroll through those doors to her.

Sophia smiled through pleasantries, each inked signature on her dance card mirroring the eager anticipation of suitors for the next waltz. Lord Henry, Lord Greenfeld… their names all blurred together. Violins wove through the murmur of gowns and gossip, rose-perfumed air shimmering under flickering candlelight.

Every name but one brought exhaustion, practiced smiles, and bows. Philip's absence was a conspicuous shadow on the ballroom's vibrant tapestry. She masked her disappointment, her heart heavy as the evening stretched like an overture without its star.

Finally, with her dance card very nearly full, Sophia glided through the waltz, Lord Greenfeld's charming smile warming the air. But beneath his gaze, a possessiveness flickered, chilling the melody and setting her heart adrift in the sea of unmoored suitors.

Her steps faltered, a yearning for an absent presence whispering through the music. The ballroom, once radiant, felt suffocating, and Sophia longed for the next dance, not with Leonard, but with the ghost of a possibility yet not written on her dance card.

"May I say, my dear Lady Sophia, you look positively resplendent this evening," Leonard complimented, his voice carrying an air of calculated charm.

Sophia managed a polite smile, her instincts on edge. "Thank you, Lord Greenfeld. You flatter me."

The dance proceeded with rehearsed steps and polite exchanges, yet Sophia couldn't shake off the feeling of discomfort that Leonard's proximity brought. His grip was tighter than was customary, as if he anticipated she would try to flee, and wanted to anchor her to him.

As the dance concluded, Leonard escorted her with a strong arm back to where her mother stood, an expectant smile on Patience's face.

"Ah, Sophia, I see you've had a delightful time with Lord Greenfeld," her mother exclaimed pointedly, her eyes sparkling with hope.

Sophia faltered, hesitating for a moment before replying, "Yes, Mother. Lord Greenfeld is indeed an amiable companion."

She forced a smile slightly larger than normal to compensate for how uncomfortable the expression felt at the moment, and could see in her mother's souring expression exactly how successful she'd been.

Within Sophia, doubts swirled like an ominous cloud. "Mother, he speaks to me as if he already owns me." She crinkled her nose behind her fan, where only her mother could see her disdain. "And his grip is clutching, crushing… I do not feel at ease with someone who claws at me so."

She attempted to convey her reservations to her mother, explaining her unease with Leonard's demeanor, but her concerns were met with dismissal.

"Oh, Sophia, you're being unreasonable," Patience retorted, a hint of frustration coloring her tone. "Lord Greenfeld is a fine match, and you would do well to appreciate his attentions. He clings only because he yearns for your attention and affection, which you have proven to be so hard-won."

There was a reprimand in her tone, and Sophia sighed, knowing her mother would not hear her no matter how clearly she spoke.

As the night progressed, Sophia found herself feeling increasingly trapped within the confines of societal expectations, distress rising in her chest and ballooning, forcing the air out of her lungs. The ballroom buzzed with laughter and melodies, yet she felt suffocated by the pressure to conform, the weight of her parents' expectations and Patience's watchful eyes weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Feeling overwhelmed and desperate for solitude, Sophia slipped away unnoticed to a secluded balcony, seeking respite from the stifling atmosphere. The night air was crisp, the moon casting a silvery glow on the ornate balustrades.

To her surprise, someone was already there, leaning against the balustrade, his gaze fixed on the starlit sky. He turned at the sound of her approach, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips as he recognized her.

"Ah, Lady Sophia, fate seems to conspire in our encounters," Philip remarked with a hint of irony in his voice, his smile crooked once more.

Frustration tinged Sophia's tone. "Indeed, only fate could be so cruel," she snapped, and the two blinked at each other, equally surprised.

The atmosphere crackled as they found themselves unexpectedly reunited on the tranquil balcony, seeking solace in the quietude of the night that had shattered so suddenly.

Sophia sighed and looked beyond the balcony, the moon casting a silvery glow over the quiet night. Philip's unexpected presence altered the tranquil atmosphere she had sought—there was no solitude to be found.

Even here, there is another suitor.

Philip's confident demeanor faltered at her evident distress, his features softening as he noted her troubled expression. "Are you all right, Lady Sophia?" His voice held a note of genuine concern, his usual cockiness replaced by a hint of sincerity.

Sophia's gaze met his, searching his eyes for something she couldn't quite define. "And what of you, Lord Walden? Do you intend to call on me again?"

Philip's brow furrowed, a hint of puzzlement crossing his features. "Yes, I do," he replied simply, his deep voice open and honest for the first time since he had soothed her while freeing the bee from her hair, free of humor and satire and bravado.

"But why?" Sophia's voice held a touch of confusion. "You don't seem to take it at all seriously."

A wry smile tugged at Philip's lips. "Ah, Lady Sophia, societal pressures, you see. One must feign interest in advantageous matches, especially when one's family's fortune is at stake."

Sophia's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and understanding. "Advantageous matches," she echoed softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wish I had the luxury of time to seek such a match. Or at least to feign the search until I find my own."

For the first time in a long time, she lost control of her demure mask, scowling at the man, and a blush immediately darkened her cheeks.

Unconsciously, as if freed with her scowl and chagrin almost as an apology, the weight of her father's dreadful decree slipped from her lips. "My father has given me an ultimatum. If I do not choose a husband this Season, he will select one for me. He is the one more likely to be swayed by diamond tiaras than I."

Philip's gaze softened, a flicker of empathy in his brown eyes as he regarded Sophia. "I understand the pressures all too well, Lady Sophia."

The night air whispered up from the garden, the distant echo of music from the ballroom mingling with the hushed conversations of the breeze whispering sweet nothings to the roses. The scent of blooming jasmine wafted through the air, a gentle breeze carrying the fragrance of flowers in full bloom.

The ballroom hummed with chatter and the soft strains of music through the opulent doors to the balcony, the atmosphere suffused with an air of elegance and refinement.

As if sensing her turmoil, Philip approached to stand beside her, his voice adopting a lighthearted tone. "Perhaps, Lady Sophia, I could be of assistance to you."

Sophia regarded him with a mix of surprise and skepticism, allowing her eyebrows the freedom to knit together in scrutiny, wrinkles be damned. "Assistance?" she echoed, unsure of his intentions.

Philip's tone remained playful as he proposed, "A false courtship between us, Lady Sophia. It could benefit us both in this intricate dance of societal expectations."

Sophia's brow furrowed, a hint of disbelief coloring her expression. "Are you jesting, My Lord?" Her voice held a touch of caution, fearing ridicule.

However, before she could anticipate his response, her apprehension led her to voice an unintended retort. "You're the last man I would consider courting, even if it were a charade."

In an instant, Philip's demeanor shifted, his gaze darkening, the sparkle leaving his brown eyes. He stepped dangerously close, an intensity in his voice that sent a shiver down Sophia's spine. "Is that true, Lady Sophia?"

Caught off guard by the sudden change in Philip's demeanor, Sophia found herself momentarily unable to respond. Eyes wide, her gaze flickered momentarily to his lips, an unconscious gesture.

Color flooding her cheeks, Sophia found herself suddenly unable to meet Philip's gaze. She could feel her pulse thundering and wondered if it could possibly be visible to the Lord Walden as it shook her to the core, shaking her loose.

Gentle but firm fingers cupped her chin, surprising her, tipping her face up to look at Philip.

No man had ever been so close to her, close enough for her to notice each eyelash, to feel a whisper of breath, cool on her skin, making her entire body shiver.

Philip repeated, his lips sinfully close to hers, "Are you absolutely sure of that, Lady Sophia?" His deep voice sent tremors through her very bones, shaking free any sense left in her body, any possibility of composing a reply.

Sophia could only blink, her eyes wide, as she watched Philip's full lips curl into a hungry smile. His fingertips traced a light, delicate line from her temple along the curve of her jaw, setting her face aflame from his touch and her resulting blush.

Realizing Philip had asked her a question, Sophia nodded mutely, only for Philip to still her by catching her jaw between his thumb and fore finger, his palm pressed lightly to her throat, his fingers splayed along her pulse, freezing her once more.

"Lady Sophia, you don't seem terribly confident in your answer." Philip's growl rumbled low in his chest, and Sophia swore she could feel it reverberating through every bone in her body.

Philip stepped back, releasing her, that sinful smile replaced by a cold mask as icy air rushed in to replace the heat of his skin. "I suppose we'll see."

Even the heat in his voice had cooled, and he turned on his heel, leaving Sophia stunned and alone.