Sophia was so much more than beautiful. She carried a social grace and an ability to read a room that Vic envied. Surely, she had to feel at least a little intimidated when walking into this room with these people tonight, but she didn’t show it, and Vic fell a little harder for her. If only Vic could have given her hand a squeeze, she might even have been able to bolster her own confidence as well. As it was, she would have to content herself with the fact that Sophia seemed to have won the first volley.

Still, Vic understood too much history, both of the country and of her own life, to delude herself into thinking one skirmish could sway the outcome of a much larger war.

••••

“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of choosing a few film options,” the duchess said as Sophia settled onto the couch next to Vic. She wished the two of them could sit a little closer, but she still sensed the tension radiating off the woman to her right. She didn’t know what exactly Vic was afraid of, but the subtle changes in her demeanour spoke to something much larger than the awkwardness of having a lover meet her parents. The warm, open, confident woman she’d grown used to spending her evenings with had vanished, and in her place sat someone she hadn’t seen in weeks. This version of Vic, the one with the sharp shoulders and tight jaw, had a smile that barely managed to push past her stiff upper lip. Her expression seemed permanently stamped into a politely neutral setting, making it impossible to read any nuance there. Only her eyes conveyed any emotions, but they were too mixed for Sophia to pick out a dominant one.

“I will admit, I’m woefully behind on all things popular culture,” the duchess continued. “I’m not sure I’ve seen a blockbuster in years. You’ll probably find me quite a bore.”

“Not at all,” Sophia said, “and I’m a student of form and technique. If you’d rather watch a documentary or art house film, I’d be thrilled.”

“Not you, too.” Vic’s dad groaned. Funny how she’d come to think of him through his relationship to Vic, and still thought of the duchess according to her formal title.

“My husband was hoping that in present company he’d get to watch something a little more mainstream.”

“Here, here.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Every event I go to, people try to impress me with how proper they are. No one lets me see car chases or explosions unless they’re in some black and white war reels from the Forties. Please don’t tell me you’re into silent films or those dreary think pieces.”

She laughed. “In that case, don’t let my personal affinity for cinematography stop you. What would you like to watch?”