over her, using his full height to impressive advantage as he glared at her with outraged dignity.
"Do you imply that the position of butler is a dishonorable occupation?"
Sophia blinked, tilting her head back to look him in the eye. "Of course not," she stammered.
"Or that I, the son of an earl, should disdain such lawful employment?"
She shook her head. "Naturally you should work at whatever occupation you choose—"
"Then you have some objection to my person? Perhaps I have an offensive odor."
"Not that I can detect," she said, feeling her temper slip past its restraints.
"Am I perhaps too ugly?"
"Do not be ridiculous," she snapped, frustration making her curt. "You are quite handsome, as you well know."
He grinned, clearly pleased with her unintended compliment. "Then I fail to see why you object to my employment."
"Because you are doing this simply to get me to marry you!" She blurted the words out, heedless of her intention to remain cool and detached. But even so, she did not regret them. She spoke the truth, and they both knew it.
Except he apparently did not. If ever there was an expression of outraged shock, he was wearing it. If one discounted that ever-present twinkle in his eyes.
"I beg your pardon, miss, but I fear you have gravely mistaken the situation." He paused, as if suddenly struck by a confusing thought. "Do you often consider new employees are angling for a proposal?"
She glared at him. "You are not an employee."
"You are sacking me?"
"Do not be ridiculous!"
"Ah," he said with an understanding smile. "Then you are proposing to me. I must say this is an odd turn of affairs. Was it my overwhelming beauty that first attracted you, or my lack of a distinct odor?"
"You are insane!"
He frowned. "Not last time I checked, but if you would like, I shall obtain a doctor's certificate affirming my sanity. I perfectly understand how you would not wish to marry a madman."
Sophia pushed to her feet, feeling the need to level the field somewhat. But despite her great height, she was still only eye-to-chin with the wretched man. "You are deliberately provoking me, and I will not tolerate it."
He bowed slightly, backing away from her in a falsely submissive gesture. "My deepest apologies, my lady. I had no wish to offend."
Sophia ground her teeth together, wondering how she had lost such control not only of the situation but of her own temper. She glared at him. "Why are you doing this?"
He was silent a moment. Then, without moving a muscle, he suddenly changed. Gone was the provocative butler pretending a subservience that never seemed real. In his place stood the major she remembered—tall, commanding, a leader of men despite his servant's clothing.
"I wished to see you," was all he said.
She sighed. Finally, they were getting to the heart of the matter. "This is not the way."
He raised an eyebrow. "You refused my visits."
"You never came."
"You left orders you were not at home to me or any of my gifts. And you have hidden in the house so that my only choice was to join you here."
"That is not true!" Nevertheless, Sophia felt her face turn scarlet.
"Of course, my lady." Though his tone was deferential, there was no mistaking the doubt in his voice.
Sophia dropped down into her chair, quietly yielding him this battle, but not the whole war. Never that. "Very well," she finally conceded. "Perhaps I was a trifle too, um, firm in my actions. But I only wished to make my position clear." She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with her own steady gaze. "Now that you are seeing me, can you also see that I will not change my mind?"
He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her—not condescendingly, but as a man studying a particularly difficult puzzle. "You said you will not marry because you cannot support becoming a slave."
"Correct."
"I wished to show you that I can be flexible. I can serve. I have, in fact, served every day of my life. I serve England and the Crown."
Sophia
"Do you imply that the position of butler is a dishonorable occupation?"
Sophia blinked, tilting her head back to look him in the eye. "Of course not," she stammered.
"Or that I, the son of an earl, should disdain such lawful employment?"
She shook her head. "Naturally you should work at whatever occupation you choose—"
"Then you have some objection to my person? Perhaps I have an offensive odor."
"Not that I can detect," she said, feeling her temper slip past its restraints.
"Am I perhaps too ugly?"
"Do not be ridiculous," she snapped, frustration making her curt. "You are quite handsome, as you well know."
He grinned, clearly pleased with her unintended compliment. "Then I fail to see why you object to my employment."
"Because you are doing this simply to get me to marry you!" She blurted the words out, heedless of her intention to remain cool and detached. But even so, she did not regret them. She spoke the truth, and they both knew it.
Except he apparently did not. If ever there was an expression of outraged shock, he was wearing it. If one discounted that ever-present twinkle in his eyes.
"I beg your pardon, miss, but I fear you have gravely mistaken the situation." He paused, as if suddenly struck by a confusing thought. "Do you often consider new employees are angling for a proposal?"
She glared at him. "You are not an employee."
"You are sacking me?"
"Do not be ridiculous!"
"Ah," he said with an understanding smile. "Then you are proposing to me. I must say this is an odd turn of affairs. Was it my overwhelming beauty that first attracted you, or my lack of a distinct odor?"
"You are insane!"
He frowned. "Not last time I checked, but if you would like, I shall obtain a doctor's certificate affirming my sanity. I perfectly understand how you would not wish to marry a madman."
Sophia pushed to her feet, feeling the need to level the field somewhat. But despite her great height, she was still only eye-to-chin with the wretched man. "You are deliberately provoking me, and I will not tolerate it."
He bowed slightly, backing away from her in a falsely submissive gesture. "My deepest apologies, my lady. I had no wish to offend."
Sophia ground her teeth together, wondering how she had lost such control not only of the situation but of her own temper. She glared at him. "Why are you doing this?"
He was silent a moment. Then, without moving a muscle, he suddenly changed. Gone was the provocative butler pretending a subservience that never seemed real. In his place stood the major she remembered—tall, commanding, a leader of men despite his servant's clothing.
"I wished to see you," was all he said.
She sighed. Finally, they were getting to the heart of the matter. "This is not the way."
He raised an eyebrow. "You refused my visits."
"You never came."
"You left orders you were not at home to me or any of my gifts. And you have hidden in the house so that my only choice was to join you here."
"That is not true!" Nevertheless, Sophia felt her face turn scarlet.
"Of course, my lady." Though his tone was deferential, there was no mistaking the doubt in his voice.
Sophia dropped down into her chair, quietly yielding him this battle, but not the whole war. Never that. "Very well," she finally conceded. "Perhaps I was a trifle too, um, firm in my actions. But I only wished to make my position clear." She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with her own steady gaze. "Now that you are seeing me, can you also see that I will not change my mind?"
He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her—not condescendingly, but as a man studying a particularly difficult puzzle. "You said you will not marry because you cannot support becoming a slave."
"Correct."
"I wished to show you that I can be flexible. I can serve. I have, in fact, served every day of my life. I serve England and the Crown."
Sophia
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