Paladin121
He stared at her in disbelief, the thoughts of the opera house and Christine shattered by her presence. He feared he'd made a mistake in not telling Sophia the truth about his past, but he knew Sophia had made a far greater one in eavesdropping.
"Sophia," he said gently, wanting to take her by the hands and just hold her, to silently make everything better.
By the expression on her face, however, she wouldn't allow it. Her behavior was simply frustrating.
"Yes, Monsieur?"
Erik blinked at Sophia, first confused, then angered by the manner in which she'd addressed him. He'd specifically asked her not to respond to him in such a formal manner, yet now she may as well have walked into the room without a word.
Only an ignorant fool would have found her behavior odd, but he knew precisely why she treated him with feigned respect: She'd overheard the conversation. Terrified of her reaction, he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and ask her what in the hell she thought she was doing, spying on him. However, he didn't really want to know what she was thinking. He merely wanted her to still think of him the way she had in the morning, as the man she wanted to love and trust.
"May I bring you anything else, Madame Turro?" she asked.
Angelina's lips parted, her eyebrows shooting into her hairline. "I beg your pardon?"
"You may leave, Sophia," he said, his tone clipped and harsh. Her eyes bulged in disbelief, but she managed to turn away and set the tray down on the service table, deftly removing the empty tea carafe. "Wait," he said suddenly.
Sophia barely glanced in his direction. "If you should need anything, Madame, please do not hesitate to ask. I will be down the hall."
"I said wait," he said again. "Sophia."
She stood straight as an arrow, watching him from the corner of her eye. "Please, Monsieur, do not allow a simple servant to disrupt your pleasant afternoon."
His mouth worked, but no words emerged. He thought of her as much more than a servant—or rather he didn't think of her as a servant at all. She was his companion, his closest friend, and the woman he adored. By now she should have known the extent of his feelings.
"You don't work for me any more," he said firmly.
Both Sophia and Angelina inhaled sharply, their gasps of disbelief making him realize what his words must have sounded like.
He silently reworked his thoughts and forced himself to calm down, but she fled before he could say another word, redeeming or damning.
"Oh, for goodness' sake," he heard Citrine ask somewhere down the hall. "What happened now?"
"In-deed," he muttered.
When he turned from the doorway, he found Angelina thoughtfully looking up at him. She didn't comment right away, but she smiled at him.
"How long?" she asked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"How long have you been in love with her?"
His face grew warm, and he wondered how it was obvious to her. Embarrassed, he turned away and pursed his lips, unsure of how to answer. He didn't trust himself to know love no matter what he felt since his past held little recognition of what was true and what was false.
With his gaze trained on the open door, he sighed. Everything with Sophia was different. "From the moment she first opened her mouth."
"She's fond of you," she commented. "It's obvious."
"Is it?"
Her smile widened. "Mothers know these things, my dear."
"Do they?" he asked soberly.
"At least they think they do, but anyone who pays attention could see the way she looks at you."
His heart hammered in his chest. He hadn't noticed the way Sophia looked at him. No one had ever looked at him with anything but contempt—no one but the woman who sat across from him.
"Then why did she storm out of here?"
Angelina chuckled. "You honestly don't know?"
"Perhaps because I released her from her duties."
"Is that all?"
"Because she was listening, most likely with her ear pressed to the door, and heard me speak of another woman."
She looked satisfied that he'd figured it out from himself. "And then you released her from employment."
"Because I cannot court, let alone marry, a servant in my—"
Her lips parted and formed a wide, girlish grin. "You want to marry her?"
"I…I think so." Of course he wanted to marry her, he thought. He wanted nothing more than to have her in his home by day and beside him in bed at night, but he couldn't possibly tell his own mother the specific details.
"Does she know this?"
"I have no idea. Judging by the way she left, I'd say it isn't likely."
She poured herself another cup of tea. "I'll wait here. You've left her waiting long enough for your explanation."
-o-
Like a scolded dog returned to its master, Erik left the parlor. He hadn't yet decided what he'd say to her when they stood face-to-face, though he imagined ever possible scenario from apologies leading to tender kisses to a passionate fight of yelling and tempers reduced to fierce kisses. Either way he won her back. He couldn't imagine her actually leaving his estate and life, not after everything they'd been through together
Much to his disappointment he found Sophia and Citrine in the kitchen, which ruined his plan of taking her in his arms and telling her how he felt for her.
The two stopped speaking the moment he stopped in the doorway, and judging by their expressions, they didn't regard him fondly. He felt as though he walked toward his death as he approached the two, each step taken with caution since Citrine had her hands behind her back and he anticipated her wielding a rolling pin. To his surprise, Citrine only glared at him with unabashed contempt while Sophia hugged herself, shrinking into her cream colored shawl and the protection of her friend.
He frowned at the two of them, completely unprepared for two of the fairer sex joined against him. In his heart he already knew he was no match for Citrine's wrath. No man could best her tongue or her strong will, and he felt sorry for any man who attempted to reason with her.
"Sophia—"
She sniffled, which earned Erik another poisonous look from Citrine. He wondered how much she'd told Citrine and guessed that in the mere three minutes they'd been apart that Sophia had hiccupped her tragic release and sobbed her rejection in the arms of her female companion, the only person in the world she trusted.
"May I speak with you?" he asked, drawing himself up to his full height in order to appear confident and relaxed, as though he retrieved wayward young woman daily and coaxed them back to their sanity.
Sophia looked to Citrine for reassurance, and Erik had the most appalling image of a conversation mediated by the household cook. Between the two of them he'd never get a word in to defend himself. By the end of it, he suspected he'd be the one let go—or probably poisoned at supper.
"I'd like to speak to you alone," he added for safety's sake.
Citrine patted Sophia gently. "You're no longer employed here, Sophia. You don't have to do anything he says, no matter what he might tell you. That'll teach him good."
His hands clenched. For the most part he liked Citrine and her cooking enough to keep her employed, but if she said one more word he'd release her as well.
"Sophia," he said firmly. "Follow me into the solarium. I would like to speak with you in private."
He waited impatiently, counted to five, and turned with the hope that she'd follow him. If she didn't, there was nothing else for him to do. He would not make the same mistakes he'd made in the past and chase another woman. All he could do was hope she would listen to him.