Footsteps fell on the main stairway, and Vic rose to meet Sophia as she entered the library. She parted her lips, not sure if she intended to shout it’s a trap, or perhaps kiss her one last time before everything changed, but her breath caught at the mere sight of her.

Sophia had obviously showered after work. All her makeup was gone, and the ends of her dark hair were damp and down over her shoulders. She wore jeans that hugged the delicious curve where hip met waist, and the loose white blouse offered the most alluring contrast to her deep skin tone.

“Ms. LeBlanc.” Her father stepped into the void left by Vic’s transfixion.

“Your Grace.” Sophia took in his attire and glanced over his shoulder at the duchess, who still wore a classic black skirt and grey blouse. “I’m afraid I’ve underdressed for the occasion.”

“Not at all,” he said in a tone Vic recognised as genuine. “We’ve both come directly from dinner.”

“Yes.” Vic’s mother cut in. “I envy your ability to leave your work at work. I’ve never had the luxury of compartmentalising my responsibilities or my attire.”

And so it begins, Vic thought, but before she could even sigh, Sophia laughed.

“I’d offer to let you borrow some of my lounge clothes, but I fear they’d swallow you. You must tell me your secret to still being able to stand in heels this late in the evening, though.”

Vic’s mother waved off the redirect. “There’s no talent to it, merely submission to the mores of my position along with a great deal of practice.”

“In that case,” Sophia said, “perhaps I’ll be more judicious in choosing my next project. Maybe a Western? Or something that films on a beach.”

“Well thought.” Her father cut back in jovially. “What are you drinking?”

“What are you pouring?”

“Do you like gin and tonic?”

“That depends.” Sophia arched one of her expressive eyebrows. “Are you the one who taught your daughter to mix them?”

He brightened considerably and straightened his shoulders. “I am indeed.”

“Then I’m forever in your debt, and I’ll have one of those, please.”

“A woman of exquisite taste.” He clapped his hands together and headed for the bar as Vic waited for her mother to argue. Instead she merely pressed her lips together and nodded briefly.

Vic released a slow breath at the reprieve and even felt a small prick of pride in the woman who’d done an admirable job of winning over her father.