Modern English, page 7
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Sophia lifted her wineglass to her lips once more, only to find it empty. The bottle on the table between her and Vic had somehow ended up in the same state. Glancing around for the first time in she didn’t know how long, she noted the sun that had seemed unnaturally high earlier now only appeared as a saffron sliver on the horizon.
Hours had clearly passed more quickly than expected, and she found that more than a little disorienting. Vic was a deft conversationalist, managing to be engaging, open, and most shockingly, relatable. Whatever charm school she’d attended had certainly done a stellar job. Sophia wouldn’t have thought it possible for her to forget where she was and who she was speaking to, but a time or two, she almost did.
The thought must have caused her to frown, but thankfully her hostess misread the root of her expression.
“There are actual barrels of wine in the cellar. If you’d like, I could fetch some.”
“From a barrel in your cellar?” She shook her head, once again hyperaware of her surroundings. “No, thank you.”
“We don’t keep alcohol on this floor during tourist season,” Vic said. “Too many people were too keen to nick a bottle of gin from the duke in the past, but it’d be no trouble to bring some up.”
“No, honestly, I don’t often drink while filming, and we start principal photography tomorrow.” She stated another fact that should’ve occurred to her sooner.
“So, what you’re saying is you’re about to become infinitely busier?”
“That’s an understated way of putting it. Honestly, this night has been lovely, but . . .”
“It’s not likely to happen again,” Vic finished for her. “I understand.”
Sophia bit her lip, not sure she really did. She hadn’t come here intending to enjoy a social evening. Of course, she’d never been blind to Victoria’s interest or her physical appeal, but rich, beautiful women were nothing new in her sphere, at least not over the last few years. The combination of sizzle and sparkle was the stuff Hollywood was built on, but it rarely came with any substance behind the special effects. She hadn’t expected Vic to pose any more of a distraction than any of the others.
“If you need to take your leave now, I understand that as well,” Vic offered.
“Do you?”
“Of course. Far be it from me to keep an artist from her work. I only hope you were able to get enough of a feel for the lighting in this room to satisfy your earlier concerns.”
For a second the words didn’t even make sense, and Sophia had to make a conscious effort not to let it show while she processed the statement.
She snuck a quick glance at the large, elaborate chandelier overhead, then another out the window at the now fully sunken sun. That’s why she’d come and why she’d stayed. Her chest tightened so swiftly she had to draw in an extra breath to expand it again. It was one thing to be pleasantly surprised by someone’s ability to kill time comfortably. It was another to get so distracted she’d forgotten her reason for needing to kill time in the first place.
Vic raised her eyebrows as if waiting for an answer to the initial question. Clearing her mind the way she might before shooting a pivotal scene, Sophia surveyed the room once more, but it wasn’t completely dark yet.
She needed more time in the space to know for sure, and yet more time with this woman might also be the exact opposite of what she needed. When conflicted between her personal life and her goals, she always chose her long-term plans. Only, in the moment, the two had intertwined, and she needed to untangle them as quickly and clearly as possible. “I do think I should stay a bit longer.”
Vic’s smile spread in a way that suggested she’d read exactly what Sophia hadn’t wanted to convey. “As you wish.”
“I mentioned earlier how much this film means to me, not just in the moment, but for the future I’ve been working toward my whole life. These scenes have to be flawless. I don’t have any room for error, or even distraction.” She wasn’t sure if she’d made the statement for Vic’s benefit or her own, but she searched the blue eyes before her for any hint that her meaning registered with at least one of them.
“I admire your dedication to detail,” Vic said seriously, then with a lighter tone added, “And if our first encounter was any indication of the dedication you have to your craft, I’ve no doubt you’ll slay the role.”
The reminder of their first meeting cracked some of the wall Sophia had been trying to build between them. She worked to reinforce it quickly. “I was merely trying on the voice for the character. I assumed you were another employee come to harass us. I wanted to see if I had what it took to convince someone I belonged in the place.”
“Oh, it was a compelling performance,” Vic confirmed. “Were I to rate us both in that exchange, I’d say you actually appeared more convincing as a haughty castle dweller than I.”
Sophia shook her head, trying not to be too pleased.
“I do believe at one point you nearly had me questioning my right to be in my own home, which is quite a skill.”
Warmth spread through Sophia, both at the compliment and the earnestness with which Vic delivered it. Why did she have to be so disarming?
“Will you be character acting through the whole film?” Vic added a playful grimace. “I’m asking only to know whether or not I should hide all the swords and pistols in the armour room after you leave tonight.”
Sunlight began to stream through Sophia’s shoddy defences as she lowered her guard. “No need to fear for your limbs or my sanity. I’m not like that all the time. I promise not to remove anything from the walls and wield it against you.”
Vic’s brows knit together as if she still found her vow a little dubious.
“I’m serious. From here on in I’ll slip out of diva mode and fully into professional lead actress mentality. I honestly arrived early attempting to prepare more thoroughly. This character, this setting, the language, it’s so far from my own experiences. I worried about my ability to pull it off.”
“Does the accent scare you?”
She shook her head. “I have a coach who runs lines with me. I worry more about the intangibles associated with a life of privilege I’ve never lived. Wealth and power come with a whole different worldview. It affects the way a person walks, holds their head, takes up space. I don’t want to turn this character into a parody of royalty, but I also don’t want to come across as Louisiana trailer trash pretending to be a princess.”
Vic grimaced. “I’d hardly use those words to describe you.”
“Only because you don’t know me,” Sophia answered quickly and without an ounce of shame. “Those words absolutely describe where I come from and how many people still see me. I don’t sugarcoat any of my past, but I don’t dwell there, either. I’m too focused on the present and using it to create a future of my own choosing. As far as I’m concerned, I came from nothing and nowhere.”
“Believe it or not,” Vic said softly, “I envy that in a strange way. Not the poverty part, I’m not one of those members of the upper class who harbours petty illusions about the quaintness of being poor. I only mean the idea of not having a past worth feeling any sort of responsibility to.”
“You should try it some time,” Sophia said dryly.
“It’s not easy to do when people insist on introducing you as Lady Victoria Charlotte Algernon Penchant. There’s no escaping the past inherent in a name like mine.”
Sophia nodded thoughtfully, unable to argue that point, but not exactly feeling sorry for her either. She’d spent so many of her younger years wishing she possessed a name that would open doors, and then so many more trying desperately to make one for herself.
“Then again,” Vic pushed on with a little more playfulness in her voice, “surely a name like Sophia LeBlanc has some sort of backstory. It’s too interesting to have actually come from nothing and nowhere.”
“That’s a polite way to ask for information I didn’t offer,” Sophia said, but she didn’t feel pressured, either. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to say, but to her surprise she started talking anyway. “Most people think it’s a stage name, but I’ve never hidden anything about myself. My mom is straight up Italian, only first-generation American. My dad’s roots run deep in eastern Texas and western Louisiana with a little bit of Spanish, some Mexican, Cajun, and French Canadian to his DNA. It’s all a bit muddled in me. I’m every bit the genetic mutt my name implies.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Vic said conversationally. “I’ve got a little bit of everything in me, too . . . Both Anglo and Saxon.”
Sophia stared at her, not sure she’d actually just said that. “Seriously?”
Vic laughed. “No. I’m just Anglo. I’m quite dry and boring, actually. My family tree barely forked for almost a hundred years in the Middle Ages. Don’t worry, we’ve dealt with the inbreeding over the last two centuries . . . mostly.”
Sophia burst out laughing. She didn’t know what else to do. Vic could say the most astoundingly aristocratic thing one moment, then follow it up with a sarcastic crack at her own expense without ever shifting her tone in the slightest.
“I didn’t mean to make light of your upbringing though,” she added. “It actually sounds fascinating to me.”
“Sure,” Sophia said. “This from the woman who casually mentioned where her people were during the Wars of the Roses earlier today.”
“My upbringing is as second nature to me as yours is to you.”
“I wish yours was a little more second nature to me, if only for this role.”
“What do you want to know?” Vic asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing in particular . . . yet. I’ll let you know if that changes.”
“You can, you know? I’m right here.”
“Thank you,” she said, though she had no intention of accepting the offer. She reminded herself she was here only until evening fell fully. Then she planned to put a healthy distance between herself and Vic’s disarming appeal. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out, and if not, I can always have Talia ask Emma for advice.”
Vic’s smile turned a little sly or maybe almost shy. The expression was new, and Sophia couldn’t constrain her curiosity. “Why do you look so . . . satisfied?”
“Nothing, no reason, I don’t.” She bit her lip for a second before going on. “Emma’s info is as good a source as any. She had impeccable research methodologies. It’s not easy to get into the mind of a woman bound by title and tradition who has to choose between love and honour while sitting high atop her ancient castle, but Emma did so beautifully.”
Maybe it was the blunt summary of the plot, the wistfulness in her voice, or the faraway gleam in Vic’s eyes as she stared out the windows into the darkness gathering over the grounds. Which ever way it was, in that instant everything connected and slammed into Sophia like a jolt of electricity she couldn’t believe she hadn’t felt until this moment.
“It’s you.”
Vic blinked a few times. “Pardon?”
God, why hadn’t she seen this before? Vic’s breeding, her demeanour, her close friendship with Emma, the way she protected her home, all of her comments about taking care of locals first. Sophia shook her head.
“What?”
None of the hoops and red tape Vic had thrown up around this production had ever been about her money. It was always about her sense of responsibility conflicting with her own relationships. She was a walking, talking, beautiful conflict of interest. In other words, she embodied all the things that drew Sophia to this role. “I’m playing you.”
Vic blushed profusely as she denied the charge. “I fear I’ve over-served you from our wine cellar. How will you be able to properly discern the light of this room in your altered state?”
She glanced at the windows to see the darkness outside had done little to dim the glow around them. “The light is fine, and I’m not going to let you change the subject this time, Your Ladyship. Do you know how important it could be for me to be able to actually talk to the person my life-altering character is based on?”
Victoria looked nearly stricken as she rose from the table. “I’ve already offered to be on set and available personally, but it’s gotten awfully late. Now that your lighting issues are resolved, shall we adjourn for the evening?” She didn’t wait for an answer, turning toward the door and leaving Sophia to follow her.
“Vic, come on,” Sophia called as she rushed to keep up. “Why are you being weird about this? Are you afraid I’m going to tell someone? I won’t, but who wouldn’t love to have people know they were the basis for one of the most admired female literary leads of the last ten years?”
“I suppose most people would enjoy that sort of notoriety.” Vic kept walking right on down the stairs. “I’m not most people, but even if I were, this character is not me, and I would be uncomfortable with the comparisons.”
Vic reached the front door and collected the coat off of Chuck’s shield as Sophia caught up.
“Which comparisons could you find unflattering?”
Her expression turned polite and distant once more as she lifted the jacket for Sophia to slip into. She accepted the gesture, but as she put her back to Vic, she stepped closer, so their bodies brushed together. Turning her head so her cheek was close enough to be kissed, she lowered her voice and said, “Please tell me, which part of me playing you do you find unappealing?”
Vic took a deep breath as if trying to steel herself, or perhaps restrain herself, but as she slowly released it, warm and steady against the back of Sophia’s neck, she pulled away. Side-stepping Sophia completely, she opened the heavy wooden door, then took Sophia’s hand.
“It has been a pleasure to share your company tonight. To answer your question, I find absolutely nothing unappealing about you, the idea of your playing me, or even the idea of your playing with me, as you appear to be doing now.”
Sophia opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again, seeing no reason to deny what Vic obviously recognised.
“The only issue I have is that you seem to be harbouring some illusions about who I am. If you think I’m the stuff of romance novels or feature films, it would be dishonourable for me to continue under false pretences.”
“I don’t understand.”
She smiled sadly. “If you must know all the ways I fall short of the character you’re trying to conjure, I’m not nearly as royal, nor am I as rich or powerful or pampered.”
Vic paused, then lifting the back of Sophia’s hand to her lips, she kissed it gently. Stepping back, she met Sophia’s eyes with a melancholy sort of finality. “And perhaps most importantly, there’s no blacksmith coming to sweep me off my feet and away from the responsibilities of my life.”
Sophia’s breath caught in a little hitch. She had so many questions, and yet she couldn’t give voice to any one of them. A chill much colder than the air outside surrounded her as Vic gently closed the door behind her. She had the urge to pound it, to beg her to open it again and explain, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what caused the sadness she’d seen in those seconds before Victoria’s lips had caressed the back of her hand.
Chapter Five
The camera was so close to Sophia’s face that Victoria’s body gave a little sympathy shiver. How could any person stand stock-still under such scrutiny? Was it some deep-seated confidence or pure defiance? Perhaps Sophia knew on some fundamental level how commanding she was as she stared out the window, unblinking, as the photographer hovered so close his breath stirred the little wisps of dark curls along the nape of her neck. Either Sophia was the most talented actress in the world, or she simply carried a level of self-possession Vic could only fantasise about.
She turned away under the guise of checking a few knick-knacks they had moved onto an end table to unclutter the shot. She hadn’t meant to use the words Sophia and fantasise in the same thought, but that’s what she’d done over and over for several days. She picked up a porcelain thimble and placed it over her thumb just to have something to do with her hands other than wring them together, which is what she’d done ever since she closed the door on Sophia and their ill-conceived date.
So much for casual.
She set the thimble down and picked up the refrain she’d carried around in her brain for days. She’d done the right thing that night. She’d said the right things. She’d been honest and extracted herself quickly as soon as she realised they’d crossed a line into a place she didn’t want to go. More importantly, she’d stayed away ever since. Thankfully, Sophia hadn’t pushed, which allowed both of them to focus on their work, but there was no escaping the fact that their work now threw them in each other’s path frequently. One of them seemed to be handling the new roles much better than the other, and spoiler alert, it wasn’t Vic.
She’d been a ball of tension bouncing back and forth between regret, and sadness at feeling that way. She should have been stronger or cooler. She would have even settled for resigned. She had plenty of practice with all of the above. Instead, she was full of nervous, fidgeting energy. The contrast of Sophia’s fortitude under professional pressure only reaffirmed why Vic had been right to step back.
She wasn’t Sophia. She didn’t get to exist without apologies or explanations. Her life didn’t hold up under scrutiny, and never had that been clearer than when Sophia connected her to the character she was playing. The two women couldn’t be more different, and the reasons Vic had listed only scratched the surface. She just wished the underlying concerns didn’t cut so deep. Perhaps if Sophia had shown any real interest in her sooner, or maybe if she only wanted help with things like her accent, Vic could have convinced herself there was no harm in following that path a little further, but that’s not what had happened.
Sophia had been easy to talk to, with her wit and sardonic humour. Time passed quickly in her company, and she seemed to enjoy herself as well at times, but her eyes never sparked with any overwhelming passion until she connected Vic to the character she saw as life-changing. She only wanted Vic when she thought of her as some sort of inspiration for Regina. Even now a sense of cold spiralled through her at the memory, and all the others that preceded it in her life. She couldn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t, or rather, she could, she had, and she still did, but not with a romantic interest. Not ever again.
Sophia lifted her wineglass to her lips once more, only to find it empty. The bottle on the table between her and Vic had somehow ended up in the same state. Glancing around for the first time in she didn’t know how long, she noted the sun that had seemed unnaturally high earlier now only appeared as a saffron sliver on the horizon.
Hours had clearly passed more quickly than expected, and she found that more than a little disorienting. Vic was a deft conversationalist, managing to be engaging, open, and most shockingly, relatable. Whatever charm school she’d attended had certainly done a stellar job. Sophia wouldn’t have thought it possible for her to forget where she was and who she was speaking to, but a time or two, she almost did.
The thought must have caused her to frown, but thankfully her hostess misread the root of her expression.
“There are actual barrels of wine in the cellar. If you’d like, I could fetch some.”
“From a barrel in your cellar?” She shook her head, once again hyperaware of her surroundings. “No, thank you.”
“We don’t keep alcohol on this floor during tourist season,” Vic said. “Too many people were too keen to nick a bottle of gin from the duke in the past, but it’d be no trouble to bring some up.”
“No, honestly, I don’t often drink while filming, and we start principal photography tomorrow.” She stated another fact that should’ve occurred to her sooner.
“So, what you’re saying is you’re about to become infinitely busier?”
“That’s an understated way of putting it. Honestly, this night has been lovely, but . . .”
“It’s not likely to happen again,” Vic finished for her. “I understand.”
Sophia bit her lip, not sure she really did. She hadn’t come here intending to enjoy a social evening. Of course, she’d never been blind to Victoria’s interest or her physical appeal, but rich, beautiful women were nothing new in her sphere, at least not over the last few years. The combination of sizzle and sparkle was the stuff Hollywood was built on, but it rarely came with any substance behind the special effects. She hadn’t expected Vic to pose any more of a distraction than any of the others.
“If you need to take your leave now, I understand that as well,” Vic offered.
“Do you?”
“Of course. Far be it from me to keep an artist from her work. I only hope you were able to get enough of a feel for the lighting in this room to satisfy your earlier concerns.”
For a second the words didn’t even make sense, and Sophia had to make a conscious effort not to let it show while she processed the statement.
She snuck a quick glance at the large, elaborate chandelier overhead, then another out the window at the now fully sunken sun. That’s why she’d come and why she’d stayed. Her chest tightened so swiftly she had to draw in an extra breath to expand it again. It was one thing to be pleasantly surprised by someone’s ability to kill time comfortably. It was another to get so distracted she’d forgotten her reason for needing to kill time in the first place.
Vic raised her eyebrows as if waiting for an answer to the initial question. Clearing her mind the way she might before shooting a pivotal scene, Sophia surveyed the room once more, but it wasn’t completely dark yet.
She needed more time in the space to know for sure, and yet more time with this woman might also be the exact opposite of what she needed. When conflicted between her personal life and her goals, she always chose her long-term plans. Only, in the moment, the two had intertwined, and she needed to untangle them as quickly and clearly as possible. “I do think I should stay a bit longer.”
Vic’s smile spread in a way that suggested she’d read exactly what Sophia hadn’t wanted to convey. “As you wish.”
“I mentioned earlier how much this film means to me, not just in the moment, but for the future I’ve been working toward my whole life. These scenes have to be flawless. I don’t have any room for error, or even distraction.” She wasn’t sure if she’d made the statement for Vic’s benefit or her own, but she searched the blue eyes before her for any hint that her meaning registered with at least one of them.
“I admire your dedication to detail,” Vic said seriously, then with a lighter tone added, “And if our first encounter was any indication of the dedication you have to your craft, I’ve no doubt you’ll slay the role.”
The reminder of their first meeting cracked some of the wall Sophia had been trying to build between them. She worked to reinforce it quickly. “I was merely trying on the voice for the character. I assumed you were another employee come to harass us. I wanted to see if I had what it took to convince someone I belonged in the place.”
“Oh, it was a compelling performance,” Vic confirmed. “Were I to rate us both in that exchange, I’d say you actually appeared more convincing as a haughty castle dweller than I.”
Sophia shook her head, trying not to be too pleased.
“I do believe at one point you nearly had me questioning my right to be in my own home, which is quite a skill.”
Warmth spread through Sophia, both at the compliment and the earnestness with which Vic delivered it. Why did she have to be so disarming?
“Will you be character acting through the whole film?” Vic added a playful grimace. “I’m asking only to know whether or not I should hide all the swords and pistols in the armour room after you leave tonight.”
Sunlight began to stream through Sophia’s shoddy defences as she lowered her guard. “No need to fear for your limbs or my sanity. I’m not like that all the time. I promise not to remove anything from the walls and wield it against you.”
Vic’s brows knit together as if she still found her vow a little dubious.
“I’m serious. From here on in I’ll slip out of diva mode and fully into professional lead actress mentality. I honestly arrived early attempting to prepare more thoroughly. This character, this setting, the language, it’s so far from my own experiences. I worried about my ability to pull it off.”
“Does the accent scare you?”
She shook her head. “I have a coach who runs lines with me. I worry more about the intangibles associated with a life of privilege I’ve never lived. Wealth and power come with a whole different worldview. It affects the way a person walks, holds their head, takes up space. I don’t want to turn this character into a parody of royalty, but I also don’t want to come across as Louisiana trailer trash pretending to be a princess.”
Vic grimaced. “I’d hardly use those words to describe you.”
“Only because you don’t know me,” Sophia answered quickly and without an ounce of shame. “Those words absolutely describe where I come from and how many people still see me. I don’t sugarcoat any of my past, but I don’t dwell there, either. I’m too focused on the present and using it to create a future of my own choosing. As far as I’m concerned, I came from nothing and nowhere.”
“Believe it or not,” Vic said softly, “I envy that in a strange way. Not the poverty part, I’m not one of those members of the upper class who harbours petty illusions about the quaintness of being poor. I only mean the idea of not having a past worth feeling any sort of responsibility to.”
“You should try it some time,” Sophia said dryly.
“It’s not easy to do when people insist on introducing you as Lady Victoria Charlotte Algernon Penchant. There’s no escaping the past inherent in a name like mine.”
Sophia nodded thoughtfully, unable to argue that point, but not exactly feeling sorry for her either. She’d spent so many of her younger years wishing she possessed a name that would open doors, and then so many more trying desperately to make one for herself.
“Then again,” Vic pushed on with a little more playfulness in her voice, “surely a name like Sophia LeBlanc has some sort of backstory. It’s too interesting to have actually come from nothing and nowhere.”
“That’s a polite way to ask for information I didn’t offer,” Sophia said, but she didn’t feel pressured, either. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to say, but to her surprise she started talking anyway. “Most people think it’s a stage name, but I’ve never hidden anything about myself. My mom is straight up Italian, only first-generation American. My dad’s roots run deep in eastern Texas and western Louisiana with a little bit of Spanish, some Mexican, Cajun, and French Canadian to his DNA. It’s all a bit muddled in me. I’m every bit the genetic mutt my name implies.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Vic said conversationally. “I’ve got a little bit of everything in me, too . . . Both Anglo and Saxon.”
Sophia stared at her, not sure she’d actually just said that. “Seriously?”
Vic laughed. “No. I’m just Anglo. I’m quite dry and boring, actually. My family tree barely forked for almost a hundred years in the Middle Ages. Don’t worry, we’ve dealt with the inbreeding over the last two centuries . . . mostly.”
Sophia burst out laughing. She didn’t know what else to do. Vic could say the most astoundingly aristocratic thing one moment, then follow it up with a sarcastic crack at her own expense without ever shifting her tone in the slightest.
“I didn’t mean to make light of your upbringing though,” she added. “It actually sounds fascinating to me.”
“Sure,” Sophia said. “This from the woman who casually mentioned where her people were during the Wars of the Roses earlier today.”
“My upbringing is as second nature to me as yours is to you.”
“I wish yours was a little more second nature to me, if only for this role.”
“What do you want to know?” Vic asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing in particular . . . yet. I’ll let you know if that changes.”
“You can, you know? I’m right here.”
“Thank you,” she said, though she had no intention of accepting the offer. She reminded herself she was here only until evening fell fully. Then she planned to put a healthy distance between herself and Vic’s disarming appeal. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out, and if not, I can always have Talia ask Emma for advice.”
Vic’s smile turned a little sly or maybe almost shy. The expression was new, and Sophia couldn’t constrain her curiosity. “Why do you look so . . . satisfied?”
“Nothing, no reason, I don’t.” She bit her lip for a second before going on. “Emma’s info is as good a source as any. She had impeccable research methodologies. It’s not easy to get into the mind of a woman bound by title and tradition who has to choose between love and honour while sitting high atop her ancient castle, but Emma did so beautifully.”
Maybe it was the blunt summary of the plot, the wistfulness in her voice, or the faraway gleam in Vic’s eyes as she stared out the windows into the darkness gathering over the grounds. Which ever way it was, in that instant everything connected and slammed into Sophia like a jolt of electricity she couldn’t believe she hadn’t felt until this moment.
“It’s you.”
Vic blinked a few times. “Pardon?”
God, why hadn’t she seen this before? Vic’s breeding, her demeanour, her close friendship with Emma, the way she protected her home, all of her comments about taking care of locals first. Sophia shook her head.
“What?”
None of the hoops and red tape Vic had thrown up around this production had ever been about her money. It was always about her sense of responsibility conflicting with her own relationships. She was a walking, talking, beautiful conflict of interest. In other words, she embodied all the things that drew Sophia to this role. “I’m playing you.”
Vic blushed profusely as she denied the charge. “I fear I’ve over-served you from our wine cellar. How will you be able to properly discern the light of this room in your altered state?”
She glanced at the windows to see the darkness outside had done little to dim the glow around them. “The light is fine, and I’m not going to let you change the subject this time, Your Ladyship. Do you know how important it could be for me to be able to actually talk to the person my life-altering character is based on?”
Victoria looked nearly stricken as she rose from the table. “I’ve already offered to be on set and available personally, but it’s gotten awfully late. Now that your lighting issues are resolved, shall we adjourn for the evening?” She didn’t wait for an answer, turning toward the door and leaving Sophia to follow her.
“Vic, come on,” Sophia called as she rushed to keep up. “Why are you being weird about this? Are you afraid I’m going to tell someone? I won’t, but who wouldn’t love to have people know they were the basis for one of the most admired female literary leads of the last ten years?”
“I suppose most people would enjoy that sort of notoriety.” Vic kept walking right on down the stairs. “I’m not most people, but even if I were, this character is not me, and I would be uncomfortable with the comparisons.”
Vic reached the front door and collected the coat off of Chuck’s shield as Sophia caught up.
“Which comparisons could you find unflattering?”
Her expression turned polite and distant once more as she lifted the jacket for Sophia to slip into. She accepted the gesture, but as she put her back to Vic, she stepped closer, so their bodies brushed together. Turning her head so her cheek was close enough to be kissed, she lowered her voice and said, “Please tell me, which part of me playing you do you find unappealing?”
Vic took a deep breath as if trying to steel herself, or perhaps restrain herself, but as she slowly released it, warm and steady against the back of Sophia’s neck, she pulled away. Side-stepping Sophia completely, she opened the heavy wooden door, then took Sophia’s hand.
“It has been a pleasure to share your company tonight. To answer your question, I find absolutely nothing unappealing about you, the idea of your playing me, or even the idea of your playing with me, as you appear to be doing now.”
Sophia opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again, seeing no reason to deny what Vic obviously recognised.
“The only issue I have is that you seem to be harbouring some illusions about who I am. If you think I’m the stuff of romance novels or feature films, it would be dishonourable for me to continue under false pretences.”
“I don’t understand.”
She smiled sadly. “If you must know all the ways I fall short of the character you’re trying to conjure, I’m not nearly as royal, nor am I as rich or powerful or pampered.”
Vic paused, then lifting the back of Sophia’s hand to her lips, she kissed it gently. Stepping back, she met Sophia’s eyes with a melancholy sort of finality. “And perhaps most importantly, there’s no blacksmith coming to sweep me off my feet and away from the responsibilities of my life.”
Sophia’s breath caught in a little hitch. She had so many questions, and yet she couldn’t give voice to any one of them. A chill much colder than the air outside surrounded her as Vic gently closed the door behind her. She had the urge to pound it, to beg her to open it again and explain, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what caused the sadness she’d seen in those seconds before Victoria’s lips had caressed the back of her hand.
Chapter Five
The camera was so close to Sophia’s face that Victoria’s body gave a little sympathy shiver. How could any person stand stock-still under such scrutiny? Was it some deep-seated confidence or pure defiance? Perhaps Sophia knew on some fundamental level how commanding she was as she stared out the window, unblinking, as the photographer hovered so close his breath stirred the little wisps of dark curls along the nape of her neck. Either Sophia was the most talented actress in the world, or she simply carried a level of self-possession Vic could only fantasise about.
She turned away under the guise of checking a few knick-knacks they had moved onto an end table to unclutter the shot. She hadn’t meant to use the words Sophia and fantasise in the same thought, but that’s what she’d done over and over for several days. She picked up a porcelain thimble and placed it over her thumb just to have something to do with her hands other than wring them together, which is what she’d done ever since she closed the door on Sophia and their ill-conceived date.
So much for casual.
She set the thimble down and picked up the refrain she’d carried around in her brain for days. She’d done the right thing that night. She’d said the right things. She’d been honest and extracted herself quickly as soon as she realised they’d crossed a line into a place she didn’t want to go. More importantly, she’d stayed away ever since. Thankfully, Sophia hadn’t pushed, which allowed both of them to focus on their work, but there was no escaping the fact that their work now threw them in each other’s path frequently. One of them seemed to be handling the new roles much better than the other, and spoiler alert, it wasn’t Vic.
She’d been a ball of tension bouncing back and forth between regret, and sadness at feeling that way. She should have been stronger or cooler. She would have even settled for resigned. She had plenty of practice with all of the above. Instead, she was full of nervous, fidgeting energy. The contrast of Sophia’s fortitude under professional pressure only reaffirmed why Vic had been right to step back.
She wasn’t Sophia. She didn’t get to exist without apologies or explanations. Her life didn’t hold up under scrutiny, and never had that been clearer than when Sophia connected her to the character she was playing. The two women couldn’t be more different, and the reasons Vic had listed only scratched the surface. She just wished the underlying concerns didn’t cut so deep. Perhaps if Sophia had shown any real interest in her sooner, or maybe if she only wanted help with things like her accent, Vic could have convinced herself there was no harm in following that path a little further, but that’s not what had happened.
Sophia had been easy to talk to, with her wit and sardonic humour. Time passed quickly in her company, and she seemed to enjoy herself as well at times, but her eyes never sparked with any overwhelming passion until she connected Vic to the character she saw as life-changing. She only wanted Vic when she thought of her as some sort of inspiration for Regina. Even now a sense of cold spiralled through her at the memory, and all the others that preceded it in her life. She couldn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t, or rather, she could, she had, and she still did, but not with a romantic interest. Not ever again.
