Fiennes Estate, Grosvenor Square - Late Morning
Benedict Montgomery had barely crossed the threshold of the Fiennes drawing room before he heard her voice — brisk, thoughtful, and already halfway into a philosophical argument.
Sophia stood near the tall window, sunlight sharpening the sapphire tones of her riding habit, her posture straight but restless. When she turned to him, her eyes lit — that spark she still insisted meant nothing more than "comradeship," much to the frustration of half of London.
"Lord Montgomery," she greeted, composed as ever… except for the way her fingers subtly twisted the hem of her sleeve. "I must speak plainly. The ton thinks far too much of marriage."
Benedict blinked. Ah, he thought, we are beginning at the deep end today.
He bowed lightly. "Good morning to you as well, Lady Sophia."
