save face by swearing she would never let him do it again, but that giddy feeling lingered, riding her nerves, making her hope he would, and soon.
“Never fear, you shall have your chocolate strawberries and peaches,” he said finally, with a sly smile that reminded her he was still her friend.
~~~~
Sophia browsed the back of the library, searching out a book to use for the girls’ geography lesson, when she heard the doors slam shut and Philip and Wilhelm’s raised voices. They were in the middle of a heated argument in the central seating area, and Sophia couldn’t sneak out of the library without being seen. She hoped they wouldn’t spot her there, uncomfortably eavesdropping on their private conversation.
“You sound just like my father! ” Philip fumed.
“I only want you to understand the realities of what you profess to want for your life.”
“Not everyone comes away from war disenchanted and damaged, Wil. Plenty of men distinguish themselves and earn their fortunes.”
“You have your fortune and distinction, Philip. You will even have mine, if you wait a little longer for it.”
“Don’t speak of it!”
“Be reasonable, Phil. If you join the Foreign Legion so you can boast of fighting in combat, you may be sorry, or, more likely, not even live to regret it.”
“You think you are the only one in the family who has potential to be a great soldier?”
“Philip! You demonstrate your ignorance as you speak. I would give it all back — I would walk through fire to purge the blood on my hands. War is not adventure, and killing is no sport. You know nothing about it! Do what you will, but I cannot give my blessing for it, and I want to be remembered as begging you not to throw your life away!"
Philip didn’t answer.
Lord Devon’s voice came gentler. “Take advice from a man who returned from war disenchanted and damaged, Phil. Don’t choose a course that will only bring you horror and death.”
Then she heard the door open and slam shut.
“You may come out now, Miss Rosalie.”
Sophia squeaked and lost her balance. Lord Devon stood only a few paces behind her. Unsettling and ghostly, how often he approached undetected. The frequent shock to her heart couldn’t be healthy.
She took in his rumpled hair and tempestuous expression. Expecting a reprimand or a burst of temper, she took a tentative step backward.
“Tell me I was right.” His voice sounded hoarse. Now that she noticed, he looked not only in severe d i shabill e , but miserable. And oddly, he was not drunk.
“You were right,” she agreed, returning his intense stare evenly so he would know she meant it. “But what happened to — ”
He cut her off with a sharp nod. “I will not discuss it.”
“All right, then…” Didn’t men love to tell their battle stories?
“Just distract me, please.”
She didn’t dare gainsay him. Then she noticed he gripped the shelf white-knuckled and the other hand trembled. He didn’t smell of alcohol at all, but his eyes kept darting to the tray on the buffet holding a decanter and snifters. Ah, he was trying to quit. Why now?
Sophia didn’t force him to explain. “Where can we go?”
“The music room.” He turned and she followed in silence.
She went straight to the box by the piano and fished out a turbulent Chopin piece. She set it on the desk and prompted, “Play for me.”
It was positively maddening that his music was only more exquisite through his torment. The seven-foot-long strings washed the room with mighty sound that vibrated in her chest. For a long while she stood at his side, turning his pages, watching his head bent over the keys, his hair and face damp with sweat.
She put half a dozen demanding pieces on the desk in turn before his shoulders slumped with fatigue.
“How bad is it?” she murmured, wondering if he was over the worst.
“Bad.”
Sophia wished she didn’t know the topic so thoroughly. “Are you nauseated? Does your head
“Never fear, you shall have your chocolate strawberries and peaches,” he said finally, with a sly smile that reminded her he was still her friend.
~~~~
Sophia browsed the back of the library, searching out a book to use for the girls’ geography lesson, when she heard the doors slam shut and Philip and Wilhelm’s raised voices. They were in the middle of a heated argument in the central seating area, and Sophia couldn’t sneak out of the library without being seen. She hoped they wouldn’t spot her there, uncomfortably eavesdropping on their private conversation.
“You sound just like my father! ” Philip fumed.
“I only want you to understand the realities of what you profess to want for your life.”
“Not everyone comes away from war disenchanted and damaged, Wil. Plenty of men distinguish themselves and earn their fortunes.”
“You have your fortune and distinction, Philip. You will even have mine, if you wait a little longer for it.”
“Don’t speak of it!”
“Be reasonable, Phil. If you join the Foreign Legion so you can boast of fighting in combat, you may be sorry, or, more likely, not even live to regret it.”
“You think you are the only one in the family who has potential to be a great soldier?”
“Philip! You demonstrate your ignorance as you speak. I would give it all back — I would walk through fire to purge the blood on my hands. War is not adventure, and killing is no sport. You know nothing about it! Do what you will, but I cannot give my blessing for it, and I want to be remembered as begging you not to throw your life away!"
Philip didn’t answer.
Lord Devon’s voice came gentler. “Take advice from a man who returned from war disenchanted and damaged, Phil. Don’t choose a course that will only bring you horror and death.”
Then she heard the door open and slam shut.
“You may come out now, Miss Rosalie.”
Sophia squeaked and lost her balance. Lord Devon stood only a few paces behind her. Unsettling and ghostly, how often he approached undetected. The frequent shock to her heart couldn’t be healthy.
She took in his rumpled hair and tempestuous expression. Expecting a reprimand or a burst of temper, she took a tentative step backward.
“Tell me I was right.” His voice sounded hoarse. Now that she noticed, he looked not only in severe d i shabill e , but miserable. And oddly, he was not drunk.
“You were right,” she agreed, returning his intense stare evenly so he would know she meant it. “But what happened to — ”
He cut her off with a sharp nod. “I will not discuss it.”
“All right, then…” Didn’t men love to tell their battle stories?
“Just distract me, please.”
She didn’t dare gainsay him. Then she noticed he gripped the shelf white-knuckled and the other hand trembled. He didn’t smell of alcohol at all, but his eyes kept darting to the tray on the buffet holding a decanter and snifters. Ah, he was trying to quit. Why now?
Sophia didn’t force him to explain. “Where can we go?”
“The music room.” He turned and she followed in silence.
She went straight to the box by the piano and fished out a turbulent Chopin piece. She set it on the desk and prompted, “Play for me.”
It was positively maddening that his music was only more exquisite through his torment. The seven-foot-long strings washed the room with mighty sound that vibrated in her chest. For a long while she stood at his side, turning his pages, watching his head bent over the keys, his hair and face damp with sweat.
She put half a dozen demanding pieces on the desk in turn before his shoulders slumped with fatigue.
“How bad is it?” she murmured, wondering if he was over the worst.
“Bad.”
Sophia wished she didn’t know the topic so thoroughly. “Are you nauseated? Does your head
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