LONDON, APRIL 29th, 1872
As soon as hears his name leave my lips, his chest rises. I watch as it slowly deflates again, swallowing nervously. The tension between us is unusual. The last time it felt this way was before we kissed for the first time. I don’t miss those times at all. I liked the way things were. Of course, something had to come up and ruin that.
“Sophie,” he finally acknowledges my presence, still keeping his arms crossed against his chest. I stiffen, realizing that I won’t soften him so easily. Not after last night. I must have hurt him badly.
I try to relax as I make my decision. I need to get closer to him. I am the only one, who can act now. He won’t try to touch me. Not after I pushed him away yesterday. I take a deep breath, trying to convince myself to q
