Page 9 of His Regency Goddess (Curves & Cravats)

Chapter Nine

A week had passed since Sophie had met Sinclair Montgomery and she had heard nought. Seen nought. Daniel had mentioned that he was touring his estates, but Sophie could not help but feel slightly rejected. And foolish. Had she imagined that spark of attraction, the desire that had sprung so naturally between them? In retrospect, she realised that was quite possible since she was a novice in these matters. Margot kept telling her to stop looking so blue-devilled—her state of melancholy apparent—and that he had never been worth the time to begin with, as she pointed out other men Sophie might be interested in. And there was no shortage of men. She danced, she made small talk, she agreed to let them call on her, but not a single one lit the spark that Sinclair had.

Sin .

She could say with certainty that he inspired the sin of lust and perhaps the sin of greed, as she could not imagine that a short period of time with him would be enough to satiate her burgeoning desire.

Sophie was also intrigued by his interest in art. What wonders had he seen on his travels? Did he have any to call his own? She had been toying with the idea of collecting pieces herself. She loved the simple, exquisite beauty of the Ming Dynasty porcelain and wanted one of her own. Either a bowl or vase, and she would like it in a jade colour.

This is how she found herself alone in the carriage on her way to a well-known antiquities store: more well-known for what they could find rather than what they already had in stock. Daniel had secured her an appointment with Mr Welles, who only took referrals from members of the peerage. This was her first time out of the home on her own in weeks, and as much as she loved the company of Margot and her family, it was a pleasant change of pace to be alone with her thoughts in the carriage. She wore one of her new day dresses, a Carmelite brown, accented with a white trim around the bust, waist, and hands that flattered her curves. Sophie had chosen all white accessories; her parasol, hat, gloves, and even shoes were all shades of white to cream. She had felt vain as she admired her ensemble when she caught sight of herself in the mirror before she left. But as she pondered her inner critic’s accusation of vanity she realised that the feeling was misidentified. Her self-admiration was actually pride. She looked and felt every inch the independent and competent widow, and her inner self-confidence was something she had to embrace, not discourage.

The carriage came to a halt, and within moments the driver assisted her down and escorted her to the door of a nondescript storefront. The curtain in the single window was closed, however the sign on the door said 'Open—please use the knocker'. She looked up to confirm that she was at the right place and saw a sign that said ‘Welles you clearly have a skill in acquisition."

"Thank you, madam. Follow me into my office so we can sit and discuss what it is you want me to find."

The office was just as full, but mainly of books and papers. And Sophie spied a black cat sleeping on one of the chairs—a live one. Mr Welles situated them on either side of a desk in the middle of the room and poured some tea from a cast iron teapot, aged but in impeccable condition.

He must have seen her admiring it. "An early Japanese sixth century teapot; the cast iron retains the flavour of tea wonderfully. But if I am correct, we are to speak of another Orient, the Ming Dynasty of China?"

"That is true, but I may be adding a teapot to my list!"

"That can be easily done. Now tell me more of this object you seek." His posture was now alert and focused as he leant forward, spectacles perched on the end of his nose.

"Well, I am certain it is no surprise that what I am after is a porcelain bowl. Ideally, one in green with a floral pattern. I believe a lotus flower?"

Mr Welles nodded as she spoke, a smile widening across his round face.

"How extraordinary! This is the second request within the week for this same object," he told her excitedly as he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "Now, asking for a Ming bowl is quite ordinary, but with the same unusual colour and pattern? How very curious."

Sophie was taken aback. In all the scenarios she had envisioned, having it slip between her fingers to someone else's had not occurred to her.

"Who is this?" she asked him abruptly, forgetting her manners.

"My apologies, but I cannot divulge my clientele. My reputation is built on being discreet," he replied, slightly aghast.

"No. I am sorry, Mr Welles. I should not have been so forward. You will still keep me apprised of any success?"

"Of course. I may find more than one and if not, we could arrange a silent auction."

"Thank you for your time, Mr Welles. I look forward to hearing from you soon."

Sophie managed a gracious smile as she hid her disappointment. All there was to do was wait. Wait for word from Mr Welles. Just like the word she was waiting to hear from Sinclair Montgomery.