The vacant chair on her right was just beginning to claim Sophia's attention-- Who was the cousin they were all waiting for?-- while she listened to her Uncle James talking above the soft clutter the servants caused as they moved around the table to fill everyone's plate with food no one would be allowed to touch until Aunt Jane's last visitor finally, most tardily, arrived.

"His Grace, the Duke of Chandos, Marquess of Carnavaron," the butler announced pompously a moment later.

A young man dressed just as fashionably as her aunt and uncle and their friends walked through the door and at the the sight of him, Sophia, barely stifling a gasp of surprise, felt underdressed in her black frock for the first time since she had arrived at Rosings.

The dashing young lord was, quite unmistakably-- she would recognise those almost elfin ears of his anytime because she used to tease him for them as often as he teased her for her freckle-covered, upturned nose-- the annoying Cousin Henry who never missed an occasion to pull her hair and skirts when they climbed the age-old trees of the forest spanning behind his family's Middlesex mansion eight years ago.

She was nine then, and he couldn't have been more than twelve... He must be twenty now, and the butler announced him as a Duke, which meant... his father must have died...

That also meant that Sophia was much more absorbed in her beloved books, where she hid from the unpleasantries of life, which the destiny dealt her family than she had thought. How could she have missed something like that? But the Bride Of Lammermoor, and other Sir Walter Scott's novels which Victoria had recommended her in her letters, were so absorbing, and transporting, and wonderful, and so much better than her dreadful reality.... Sophia's only real tie to the happenings within their family and kingdom, unfiltered by her parents' views and opinions, were the always rarer letters she exchanged with Victoria. But she could not blame her most favourite distant cousin for decimating their correspondence-- the young Queen had a lot to do and think about since she had been crowned, and now about to get married in two short months. But at least she would marry Albert, the man she had chosen herself and loved...

Sighing impatiently, Sophia gathered her thoughts that had the most annoying tendency to stray when she needed to focus the most, as the young Lord Henry sat next to her after having kissed Aunt Jane, very unofficially, on the cheek.

"What an unexpected pleasure seeing you here, in Richmond, Cousin Penelope," he whispered as he leaned in-- making their forearms touch!-- to refill the glass of water she had drained at seeing him.

She would never admit it aloud but she had suffered from a childhood infatuation for Henry, despite him always having teased her and never having seen her as more than a little, annoying cousin he was charged with looking after whenever she was sent to spent a couple of weeks at Canons House.

She took another sip from the refilled glass to relieve her strangely parched throat and very untypically wordless tongue and almost choked-- while she had been preoccupied by studying his face, looking for the carefree, mischievous boy she remembered so well behind the mask of new adulthood he wore now, she had entirely failed to notice that he had filled her glass with wine instead of water. She turned away from him to hide her smile-- so the little rascal had changed only outwardly!

"I still despise that name, you know, Henry?" Sophia whispered back, forcing herself to sound offended. She really did hate it, though, because of what its original owner represented. Sophia definitely wasn't a woman who would marry a man who would abandon her without regret, leaving her all alone for years on end while he would go chasing adventures and fame. She would marry for love or, yet better, not at all, as real love was simply too rare to find beyond the pages of her novels.

He chuckled, most infuriatingly, while their plates were taken away by a team of servants and replaced, the conversations of the other people seated around the long table reaching them as if through a layer of water, only Henry's voice sounding clear in Sophia's ears, only his words making sense.

"So you have not changed much, Penny, I apologise, Lady Sophia. You are still just as outspoken and spirited as when we climbed that ancient oak behind my mansion," he teased, his whispered words landing on her earlobe upon his breath.

She did not change in spirit, luckily, Henry mused as he observed her profile, the adorable, clever sprite who had never missed an occasion to talk back to him was still shining through her new polite and polished interior, untouched by the education she had received since. She just... grew up, the little freckled, wild-spirited urchin he remembered became an incredibly charming young woman. An enchanting girl, rather-- even though the sombre black gown she wore made her look older, she could not be more than seventeen.

Sophia, feeling annoyingly breathless by his inappropriate closeness sending a surge of heat and colour to her pale cheeks, raised her eyes to Aunt Jane, whom she found observing them with a smile, but pretending not to, while she conversed with the ancient Lord Hastings, who sat on her left.

"Why the black dress?" Henry whispered again. He leaned in even closer-- making their shoulders touch! "It makes you look like our aunt's governess," he continued, pulling at her skirt under the table just like when they were children, making her giggle inappropriately.

What was it about her? He mused, feeling elated at hearing her soft laughter; it had only ever been her who made him feel... like this, he never cared to please any other woman... Sophia had always made him feel... like a fool, even when he had been only thirteen... and he loved it.

Just what was it about him? Sophia wondered, still laughing, looking up at him, then swiftly turning away when she found him observing her. She could never treat him as he deserved for always teasing her; she just couldn't make herself feel angry with him.

She took a deep breath before she replied, "That's the idea, Henry."

When he didn't reply, she made herself raise her eyes at him again while she brought her fork to her lips, quite oblivious to what she was eating, and found him expecting her to elabourate her answer in an attentive, raised-eyebrow silence.

Turning back to her plate, she shook her head. "Never mind, you won't understand, Cousin."

How could he? He wasn't impoverished like her parents-- it was obvious from his clothes made according to the latest fashion, his untroubled, relaxed manners. He wasn't expected to sacrifice his youth and dreams to help his parents.

Not being able to not look at him she covertly observed his handsome face free from worries about the future-- Goodness it must feel good to be in that place in life!-- and giggled again as she noticed his eyebrows rising even higher up his forehead, almost vanishing under his brown hair, in a mute expectation of an explanation.

With a sigh, she acknowledged that he hadn't changed at all-- he would be staring at her like that, drawing everyone's attention, until she succeeded in explaining to him what she meant.

Henry didn't bother to hide the smile playing on his lips as he observed her-- it was their old childhood game, he wouldn't stop until she told him everything, he didn't care about Aunt Jane's guests who would notice their antics soon and most likely start gossiping. He had liked Penny as the little sprite she had been years back, always ready to partake in his boyish games, and he absolutely adored the young lady she had become, despite the mournful black frock she was wearing. He had been too busy with his own life to think about hers for too many years, but he was ready to correct that mistake now, he mused as he let his eyes caress the tiny upturned nose he remembered so well, the freckle-sprinkled cheeks flooding with colour under his scrutiny, let himself get lost in her unusual, mesmerising, almost violet orbs...

"I need to find a paid place, dear cousin, to earn enough money to help my parents," she said, disturbing his reverie after their empty plates had been collected and the dessert brought, "then escape before they marry me off to some old, rich lord." She shuddered at the mere thought. "That is the plan."

As he noticed the shiver of unpleasure rippling through her frail frame, Henry wasn't sure whether she was serious about what she told him-- it seemed that her parents laid too much responsibility on her young, fragile shoulders. So he settled for questioning her further while he ate his slice of raspberry tart.

"Is marrying a rich man such an unthinkable option?"

"Of course it is!" she exclaimed immediately, a little too loud, earning herself a scowl from their aunt. "I will never marry without love!" She continued in a whisper. "I will never marry, full stop. I will work, earn enough money and open a book shop somewhere on the seaside..."

He loved how her eyes became distant and unfocused as she said that, as a veil of dreams settled over her rational thoughts. He wondered if she really believed she would be able to earn enough money to realise this vision by working as a governess.

Well, he wasn't going to be the one to crush her dream, he resolved, offering her his arm when the butler appeared in the doorway, announcing that the ballroom was ready if the guests pleased to move to the adjoining room.

"Shall we dance, Cousin Penny?" he proposed in a whisper as he led her out of the dining room, following their aunt and uncle.

Sophia didn't like dancing much, but now she found herself simply nodding as she felt his breath landing on the side of her neck, its invisible caress rendering her quite speechless.