Sophia had been seated by the tall drawing-room window for so long that the cushion beneath her had begun to lose its shape. Her fingertips left little drawings on the glass where she breathed on it.
Outside, winter had softened the world into quiet stillness. A thin layer of snow rested over the gardens and hedgerows, smoothing every edge of the estate into pale serenity. The trees stood bare and elegant, their branches traced against the dull silver sky like delicate ink strokes.
Sophia hardly noticed the cold creeping faintly through the glass.
Her attention had been fixed on the long drive leading toward the main road for nearly an hour.
Today.
Laurence had sent word ahead.
He would arrive today.
She leaned forward slightly, pressing her fingertips against the window frame, watching the distant line of trees as if she might summon the carriage through sheer force of anticipation.
Her thoughts had circled the same hopeful possibility all morning.
Laurence would come.
And perhaps—
Perhaps he would not come alone.
She scolded herself every few minutes for allowing the thought to return.
Of course Florian would not travel here for Christmas.
He had his own family.
Parents who surely wished to see him.
Sisters who must adore his company.
Still…
Her heart refused to abandon the idea completely.
She had written to him.
Several times.
He had written back each time — long letters filled with careful descriptions of his studies, his discoveries in botany, the river near the university, even the color of the leaves as autumn had faded into winter.
He always wrote kindly.
Always thoughtfully.
He even sent flowers.
Or pressed leaves.
That small potted plant he had sent with detailed instructions written in his neat handwriting stood on Sophia's desk in her room with a blue ribbon tied around it to mark it as hers.
Sophia had treasured every letter.
She kept them carefully tied with a beautiful silk string in a small wooden box beside her bed.
Laurence's letters, by comparison, were far shorter.
A few sentences, a paragraph at most.
Efficient.
Practical.
Maxim's letters from boarding school were nearly identical.
She often laughed when reading them because they affirmed that this is how all boys actually are, apart from Florian of course. Why? The answer was clear as day — he was an angel. A completely different being, cut from different cloth.
Her thoughts drifted again toward him.
What might he be doing now?
Perhaps walking through snow somewhere far north.
Perhaps reading.
Or maybe speaking of his new findings in that beautiful voice of his. She sighed deeply at the thought of his voice. It has been months since she last heard it but whenever she thinks of summer, his voice echoes in her ears.
Her breath caught.
Far down the drive, beyond the outer trees, something moved.
A dark shape emerging slowly through the pale winter air.
Sophia leaned forward so abruptly her shoulder struck the window frame.
A carriage.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
She sprang from the seat.
"It's Laurence!" she cried. "He's come!"
Her voice carried through the drawing room with such sudden enthusiasm that the Duchess looked up from her embroidery.
"Already?" the Duchess asked with a smile that suggested she had expected precisely this reaction.
But Sophia was already halfway out the door.
She rushed into the hall and down the grand staircase with such speed that her silk shoes barely seemed to touch the steps.
Then—halfway down—she stopped abruptly.
No.
She must not behave like a child.
Laurence had been away for months.
He had seen the world beyond De Montfort again.
She must greet him properly.
She slowed her pace, smoothing her dress as she descended the final steps. A loose curl had slipped forward across her cheek. She quickly tucked it behind her ear and straightened her posture.
A lady.
Not a girl.
When she reached the entrance hall, the Duchess had already joined her.
Maxim stood beside their mother, composed and steady, his posture reflecting the discipline boarding school had instilled in him.
Arthur and Fredrick, however, were engaged in what appeared to be a heated argument.
"You said the equation was wrong," Fredrick insisted.
"I said your explanation was wrong," Arthur corrected.
"You implied the same thing."
"That is not what implied means."
Sophia huffed lightly and rolled her eyes at their constant bickering, trying to drown out the noise of their voices.
The sound outside had grown clearer.
The crunch of carriage wheels over frozen gravel.
The horses snorting softly in the cold.
Her heart beat faster.
Everyone remained inside the warm hall as the carriage came to a stop.
For a moment there was silence.
Then—
The carriage door opened.
Sophia listened.
Footsteps approached.
One set.
Only one.
Her heart dipped slightly.
No second voice.
No familiar laugh.
The door opened as the footman pulled it wide.
Laurence stepped inside.
For a moment Sophia simply stared.
He seemed different.
Perhaps it was the winter coat — a long, dark garment falling nearly to his ankles, its collar lined with black fur that framed his face sharply. Snowflakes clung lightly to his shoulders. Leather gloves covered his hands.
But it was more than that.
He looked older.
Broader.
More assured.
The months away had sharpened something in him once again.
Sophia's composure collapsed instantly.
She ran forward and threw her arms around him.
"Laurence!"
He caught her easily, lifting her slightly off the floor before setting her back down.
"How was your journey?" she asked breathlessly.
"Cold," he replied calmly, "And uneventful."
She looked up at him, "You took forever."
"I assure you the road did not shorten itself for my convenience." He gave out a light laugh, patting the top of her head.
He then turned to the Duchess to greet her with a light bow, his head inclining respectfully.
"Your Grace."
The Duchess smiled warmly.
"Welcome home Laurence. Your journey must have been strenuous, warm yourself by the fire."
Maxim stepped forward next.
The two brothers exchanged a quiet nod — a greeting far less dramatic than Sophia's but equally sincere.
Arthur and Fredrick stopped their argument long enough to greet him.
Laurence looked between them.
"Have you been causing trouble while I was away?"
Both boys straightened immediately.
"No," Fredrick said quickly.
Arthur nodded.
"Not at all."
Sophia crossed her arms.
"That is not true," she said firmly. "You must scold them. They have been dreadful. Since you and Maxim left there has been no order in this house."
Arthur looked offended.
"That is not fair."
Fredrick nodded.
"We have been perfectly reasonable."
"You argued about whether lightning travels faster than sound for two entire afternoons," Sophia replied.
"That is a legitimate scientific debate," Fredrick protested.
Laurence raised an eyebrow slightly.
"I see."
Arthur and Fredrick immediately stood straighter.
Laurence smiled faintly, "I shall attempt to restore peace."
Both boys gulped knowing they'd have to keep their antics to themselves.
Laurence removed his gloves and handed them to the footman.
"I shall go change."
With that he turned and ascended the staircase.
As soon as he disappeared from sight—
Arthur turned back to Fredrick.
"You still misunderstand the concept entirely."
Fredrick rolled his eyes.
"You are the one misunderstanding it."
Maxim sighed.
The Duchess followed after Laurence upstairs to her chambers.
The three golden head brothers returned to the drawing room, Arthur and Fredrick still bickering on their way while Maxim just watched them unamused.
Sophia stood quietly in the entrance hall.
A deep sigh escaped her.
How foolish she had been.
Of course Florian had not come.
Why would he?
He had his own family.
Still…
She hoped no lady caught his eye during the holidays.
But she knew how impossible that hope was.
What woman would not admire him?
When he looked as he did—
As though heaven itself had shaped him.
A sudden thought struck her.
A letter.
She could write to him.
Wish him Merry Christmas.
Perhaps send a gift.
With renewed determination she hurried upstairs to the Duchess's chamber.
"Mama?"
The Duchess looked up.
"Yes, my dear?"
"May I go into town tomorrow?" Sophia asked. "To the shopping district? I still have not figured out what to get everyone for Christmas."
"Very well."
The Duchess turned to a maid.
"Have the carriage prepared for tomorrow morning."
Then she added, "Wear your new winter coat."
Sophia brightened immediately.
It had arrived only days before — white wool lined with rabbit fur and trimmed with soft fox fur at the collar and cuffs.
"It came with your papa's letter," the Duchess explained. "He wanted to be certain we were warm this winter."
The Duchess herself had received a magnificent auburn fox coat that reached the floor.
Sophia had seen a glimpse of it when it arrived.
"What kind of coat did papa send you?"
The Duchess smiled warmly at Sophia who was always curious. "Would you like to see?"
"Yes please!" Sophia's eyes brightened as Charlotte asked for the maid to fetch her new coat.
"It's beautiful," she breathed, "When may I wear something like that?"
The Duchess laughed softly, "When you reach your full height."
Sophia frowned.
Then stood on her toes, "I'm almost there."
Everyone laughed.
Just then—
A knock sounded at the door.
Laurence's voice followed.
"May I enter?"
The maid opened it.
Laurence stepped inside, pausing slightly at the sight of the cheerful scene.
"My apologies," he said lightly. "I did not intend to interrupt."
"You are not interrupting," the Duchess replied.
Laurence looked toward Sophia, "What are your plans before Christmas?"
"I am going shopping tomorrow," she said brightly.
Laurence considered this briefly.
"Then I shall accompany you," he said.
"Really?!" Sophia exclaimed, she could have Laurence all to herself.
The corner of Laurences mouth rose into a faint smile.
This is how it should be.
Peaceful.
Uninterrupted.
Order restored.
Only afterward did the realization strike her.
The entire purpose of the trip had been to find a gift for Florian.
Now Laurence would be there.
Watching.
And suddenly the simple plan she had imagined had become far more complicated.