Chapter 3:

The creak of the landlords heavy tread on the staircase recalled the pair to their surroundings. Charles jerked away, thrusting Sophy from him with inelegant force. He steered her towards towards the fireplace where she took a seat, blushing rosily. He then turned to face the landlord, who enquired, with marked obsequiousness, whether he could fetch the lady and gentleman some refreshment.

Charles replied, some what testily that ale would suffice, with a ratafia for the lady. As the landlord retreated upon this errand, Sophy expostulated,"But Charles, really, you know I don't touch ratafia, of all the insipid beverages."

Charles retorted, sharply, that Sophy would benefit from a touch of insipidity at the moment.

Soppy cocked an enquiring eyebrow at this. "You prefer insipid, then Charles? How unexpected. To be sure," she went on, musingly, "after prolonged exposure to Miss Wraxton's somewhat forceful opinions, I can see how you might value compliance in a bride, I am sure you would find plenty of options amongst next seasons debutantes, should you care to look."

"I don't care to look, as well you know, Madam!" Expostulated Charles, "but damn it Sophy, I can't count myself engaged to you, as you rightly point out, and well, damn it…" here Charles descended into inarticulate confusion and looked appealing at Sophie. Sophie continued to regard Charles steadily, a look of detached expectation on her face, as she pointedly waited for him to continue.

"Dash it all, Sophy!" Charles ground out, "I can hardly look at you without wanting to kiss you!"

Having torn this admission from himself, Charles flung himself into the chair opposite her. Sophy remained silent, a satisfied smile suffusing her features, whilst the landlord set a demure glass of the disputed beverage on the table. As that worthy departed, She took a sip, licking her lips, somewhat deliberately. "I fail to see, Charles," she began, "the problem in that particular situation. To be sure, it may be a little inconvenient, particularly when dinner is about to be served, but I find nothing disagreeable about you wanting to kiss me. Indeed," she took another sip of ratafia, looking directly at Charles as she licked her lips again, "indeed, I find it most agreeable."

"Good god, Sophie!" Ground out Charles, in frustration, "what can I do?"

"What you can do, dear Charles, is have a drink. Then you will eat the dinner that our attentive host is shortly to set before you. After which we we proceed to London by post chaise, a journey that should provide you with ample opportunity to indulge in this new found predilection. If you should wish to of course." added Sophy, as a musing aside. "On arrival at Berkley Square, you will inform your family that your engagement to Miss Wraxton is now terminated, Miss Wraxton is shortly to be betrothed to Lord Bromford and you have shown great restraint and not strangled your infuriating cousin. Once Miss Wraxton and Lord Bromford's engagement is announced, you may then consider yourself free to press your suit."

Soppy paused, and twinkled mischievously, before continuing, demurely, "you will find the lady most receptive to your attentions."

Charles, torn between amusement, impotent rage and frustrated passion, let out a short bark of bitter laughter. But his intention to check how receptive his lady might be to his attentions was, to his combined relief and annoyance, thwarted by the arrival of the landlord, bearing dinner.

The meal proceeded rather quietly. The lady, who had been quite ravenous on arrival, found her appetite unusually suppressed. The gentleman, attacking the beef with a ferocity that betrayed the force of his suppressed emotion, was attending to the business of eating with a single mindedness that he hoped would dismiss from his mind thoughts a gentleman had really no business entertaining.

As the covers were removed and port set before Mr Ravenhall, Sophia, her mind awash with plans and possibilities entirely new to her, looked directly at Charles and asked, with a hint of indecision that was generally entirely foreign to her, "should you wish to be left to your port in solitary, masculine splendour, I could bespeak a chamber to retire to for a while. I perhaps ought to refresh myself before we set off again?"

Charles poured the port and pushed the glass toward Sophy. "I think, Sophy, that it might be safest, if you and I confine ourselves to, erm, public spaces until such time as I am at liberty to press my suit without constraint."

Sophy blushed a little at this and looked so adorably, surprisingly, conscious, that Charles reached over to grab her hand. He gripped her hard as he continued, "knowing that you are inclined to be responsive to my attentions, makes me all the more conscious that it is my duty to keep those attentions under good regulation. You know if you took a bedchamber I would be in it with you before you had scarce closed the door. And there is every chance that my attentions may not be entirely gentlemanly."

Sophy, her blush deepening, gave his hand an answering squeeze and exhaled, deeply, "there is also a chance that my receipt of those attentions may not be entirely ladylike."

Charles smiled at her, there was a tenderness in his gaze that Sophy had not seen directed towards her before now. "Sophy, you are a beautiful, generous and courageous girl and I love you to distraction. If I could summon a parson to this room and make you mine before God and man right now, I would. But as you have, rightly and presciently, observed, there are several points of procedure to be observed before we can be betrothed. And I must be a gentleman because you, my delightful, enchanting, beguiling temptress, deserve that I should be so."

Sophy coloured even more deeply at this unexpected tenderness. "Charles," she began, hesitantly, "I…"

"Shush" murmured Charles, rising from his seat and pulling Sophy to her feet and into his arms. He planted a brief, soft kiss on her lips. "I think it is time for us to return to London, where I will woo you with all the form and propriety you deserve." He kissed her again, deeply, and with just a hint of the passion that lay beneath his affectionate façade. Pulling reluctantly from the embrace he smiled, a little ruefully, and then grinned, "and hopefully with a little of the impropriety you deserve also."

Sophy laughed and pulled him closer for a kiss that broke only with the warning sound of feet treading towards the door. There was an apologetic tap on the door and Hitchen stepped lightly into the room. "Begging your pardon sir, just wanted you to know that the chaise is ready for you, but there was a bit of confusion as to whether you ordered a team of four or a pair.

Mr Rivenhall looked questioningly at Sophy, who smiled and blushed and raised an inquiring eyebrow back at him. "A pair, I think Hitchen. A team feels a little profligate and we are in no rush."

Hitchen retreated to prepare the chaise for departure and Charles returned Sophy to his embrace, eager to gauge how receptive she continued to be towards his ongoing attentions.