Paladin 43
Erik stared at Philippe for much longer than necessary. He had no idea that Philippe intended to join them, as Sophia hadn't made mention of her brother attending her lesson.
"This will not prevent you from teaching my baby sister, will it, Monsieur?" Philippe questioned.
"It's not entirely conventional," Erik replied. He turned back to the piano and stared at the sheet music for a moment, his irritation growing.
This was supposed to be their time together, their quiet moment to sit and talk and enjoy music.
"Would you prefer a different night, then?" Philippe asked.
Erik grit his teeth, frustrated with himself for allowing Philippe to aggravate him. He knew that if he said something crass to Philippe his chances of spending time with Sophia would swiftly come to an end.
Glancing at Sophia, Erik saw the dismay in her downcast eyes. He knew what he had to do, and though he was certain it would kill him, Erik rose and walked toward Philippe Dupree.
Sophia gasped audibly and Philippe stared past Erik at his sister.
"A word in the hall, Monsieur, if you will."
Philippe looked uncertain at first, but with a curt nod he rose and followed Erik into the hall, glancing back once to give Sophia a reassuring smile.
Once the door closed Philippe crossed his arms and took several paces down the hall. "You wish to speak with me?" he asked with his back turned.
"Yes, I—"
"Regarding my sister?"
"Yes, I—"
"There's little that needs to be discussed."
Erik felt his ears burn. He looked at Philippe standing at the end of the hall, refusing to return his gaze. Nothing angered him more than being ignored.
"I disagree," he said simply.
Philippe glanced at his watch. "After everything that happened last night," he said, keeping his voice low, "the very last thing Sophia needs to concern herself with is facing the same confusion, the same circumstances."
Erik fell silent, so enraged that he couldn't utter a sound. His nostrils flaring, his heart hammering in his chest, he stared at the back of Philippe's head and considered how simple it would be to place the noose around his neck.
Turning away, Erik walked to the opposite end of the hall where he saw Citrine in the kitchen. She studied him a moment before she curtsied and disappeared into the dining room, sliding the door closed.
"You have come tonight to ensure her safety?" Erik asked at last.
Philippe exhaled. "I mean no offense."
Erik turned toward him. "You admit to attending her lesson to keep me from abusing her and you expect I will take no offense?"
Philippe's shoulders fell. "You're correct, Monsieur, and I do apologize for my words. Your actions have been chivalrous toward Sophia, but in the past Monsieur Turro showed similar benevolent intent. I am no longer a trusting man. Surely you feel the same way toward your sisters, cousins…any female relative."
Erik held back a shudder. His eyes turned down briefly and he nodded. "Of course," he mumbled.
"To be truthful, Monsieur, there are other reasons for my concerns."
Philippe's words garnered Erik's full attention. He met Philippe's eyes and bade him to continue, expecting to hear his butler tell him that he preferred a man to court his sister, not a monster.
"I will not see my sister become any man's mistress," Philippe said flatly.
His words almost came as a relief. Erik nodded, mustering all of his strength to remain congenial. "That's quite understandable."
Philippe appeared startled by Erik's compliance. "As your employee, Monsieur, I fear there is little other choice. I realize my sister is quite fond of you, and given her age and your doubtless experience as a man of good name and position, you must understand the challenges she faces. If you do truly have her best interests in mind then I ask you—not as your employee, but as her brother—please confine your fondness for Sophia as a teacher to a student."
Erik stood rigid at the end of the hall, his brow furrowed.
"What if she weren't my employee?"
Philippe's eyes narrowed. He slowly shook his head. "You intend to let her go? As punishment…to me?"
"You have nothing to do with my decision," Erik replied, crossing his arms.
"Then what does, Monsieur? We cannot afford to remain here if you release her from her duties," Philippe stammered, his face flushed as he spoke.
Erik felt the pendulum swing in his favor. He stared at the floor and mulled over Philippe's desperate words.
He didn't need Philippe groveling at his feet. He didn't want to hold his status over Philippe's head as he knew that if he asked Sophia to marry him Philippe would not consent.
"If she were employed elsewhere…and if I had intentions of courtship, you would allow it?"
Philippe hesitated. "Possibly."
Erik considered Philippe's statement, reminding himself that he was doing everything he could to please Sophia.
"Very well."
"She'll never find employment elsewhere," Philippe blurted out. "If her vision becomes worse…"
"It may not," Erik retorted. It was possibly the most assenting comment he'd ever made, which surprised and delighted him. Perhaps there was a chance yet to abolish his cynicism.
"Well," Philippe retorted. "Only the Lord knows for certain, wouldn't you say?"
Erik grunted and returned to the parlor, feeling a sense of accomplishment in remaining civil toward Philippe.
Sophia rose to her feet the moment Erik walked in. She wrung her hands, her gaze switching back and forth between Erik and Philippe, who closed the door behind him and ran his hand through his dark hair.
"Must I return home?" she asked, looking to Philippe for answers.
Her brother sighed sat back in the arm chair. He closed his eyes and folded his hands. "Carry on. I have yet to hear you play."
"Truly?" Sophia beamed.
"Yes, yes, go on now. And play something…soothing. None of that brackish racket or whatnot," he snapped, his eyes opening briefly as he smiled at Sophia.
With a nod toward Sophia, Erik smiled and joined her at the piano. The composition he had searched for earlier was before him.
"It was stuck to another sheet," Sophia said.
She ran her finger along the top where "For Sophia" was hastily written. The moment Erik saw his handwriting he felt childish in his actions, but Sophia offered a warm, reassuring smile.
"I feel famous," she grinned. "No has ever written a song for me."
"Would you like to begin, Mademoiselle?" he asked.
With a closed-lip smile, she turned back to the piano. "I would rather hear you play the song you composed for me."
Sophia settled in closer to him, and without once looking at the sheet music Erik played for her, a song that was just as lively and soothing as she—a song that voiced how she made him feel—and how he wanted to feel for the rest of his life.