She had to give it to Victoria. She knew how to tone down in a way that made a person feel seen while still making it clear she didn’t have to. What kind of energy did it take to always be one step ahead of the common folk? Or did such behaviour come naturally after a lifetime of practice?

Victoria returned, carrying a plate in each hand, a bottle of wine under her arm, and a corkscrew between her teeth, causing Sophia to wonder if she’d overestimated her grace.

“Sorry,” Vic mumbled around the corkscrew and lowered the plates onto the table. Juggling the wine, she began to open it before adding, “I hope you like French reds, because I’d rather not run to the cellar again.”

“Depends on the vintage.”

Vic froze and squinted at the label. “This one is, ah, it says 2005, and Gran Vin, which I think means it’s a first edition basically, and mis en bouteille . . . bouteille? Blimey, that’s um, oh, ‘bottle.’”

Sophia laughed. “You’re bad at French?”

“I wouldn’t say bad.”

“That wasn’t great.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be put on the spot. I didn’t know you were a wine connoisseur. I would’ve brushed up.”

“I know nothing about wine,” Sophia admitted.

“Then why the comment about the vintage?”

She shrugged. “Probably to be difficult, or maybe to see if you really would run back downstairs again, but dinner would get cold, and what’s the fun there?”

Vic raised an eyebrow but returned to opening the bottle.

“I’m surprised you don’t know more about wine, though. I would’ve thought it would be one of those skills women like you just possessed.”

“I’m more of a gin woman.” Vic leaned across Sophia to grab her wineglass. When she did, it was impossible not to notice her shirt was open one button past professional, offering a quick peek of smooth skin covering distinctive collar bones. Had she done that purposely? Sophia certainly had experience opening an extra button or two when she needed to make an impression, but for some reason she liked the idea of Victoria slipping into something slightly more comfortable for their dinner. Besides, women like Victoria didn’t have to rely on sex appeal, so making the choice to do so anyway proved much more intriguing.

Vic generously filled two glasses and eased into the chair at the corner adjacent to Sophia, so they managed to be simultaneously close and able to look directly at one another. “I hope you like salmon. I admit I took some liberties here, but we can absolutely stuff it and call for takeaway if I missed the mark on the menu.”

“No, this smells amazing.” She speared a bit of fish that flaked beautifully under a fragrant crème sauce, then fought the urge to moan as she placed it in her mouth. “Wow, actually it’s perfect.”