Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (18 page)

“I’m escorting you home,” he growled and tried to urge her forward.

Sophie remained rooted to the ground. It would appear the only way he’d get her out of this blasted park was if he tossed her over his shoulder.

As though she’d followed the primitive direction his thoughts had taken, her eyes narrowed. “Do not even think of it, Christopher.”

“Your brother will thank me.” He squeezed the words out past tight lips.

“He most certainly will not.” She nodded none too discreetly toward Mallen, who stood off to the side, arms folded across his chest. He studied Christopher and Sophie with thinly veiled interest.

Christopher’s eyes lingered a moment on Mallen and his gut clenched. Based on Sophie’s words, it would seem Christopher’s scheme was going to plan. He expected to feel relief that Redbrooke had turned his marital aspirations for Sophie on the duke.

Instead, Sophie’s subtle reminder of the viscount’s intentions to wed her off to Mallen burned like alcohol thrown on an open wound. His gut churned.

“Christopher?” Her hesitant question called him back to the moment. “Are you all right?”

His breathing grew rapid as he confronted the shattering realization that he didn’t want Mallen to court her. He didn’t want anyone to court her.

Christopher dropped her hand as if burned. He took a hasty step backwards.
What is this?
It defied logic. This was Sophie Winters. The bane of his childhood existence. The hoyden who’d tormented him when he’d been a boy. The girl he’d blamed for the fire in his father’s stables.

And God help him, if he didn’t want her. “Nothing is the matter,” he said at long last, his voice hoarse to his own ears.

Everything is the matter.

When had this happened? Just then, it occurred to Christopher that he’d not given thought to the mystery Athena from Lord Thomas’s library since Sophie had re-entered his life.

He extended his arm. “We’re leaving.”

“I’ll see her home,” Mallen interjected, his jaw set at a stony angle.

The hell you will
.

***

Sophie’s gaze moved between the two gentlemen. Her brother had once said that there was a greater likelihood of horses flying than her being courted by the Duke of Mallen.

She peeked at the sky. Hmm. No horses there. It did, however appear that the duke’s intentions were serious where she was concerned.

And…

She looked at Christopher. The firm set to his square jaw, and the muscle that ticked at the corner of his eye indicated Christopher’s annoyance.

Her heart flipped painfully in her breast. Christopher didn’t believe she was good enough for the duke. In fact, the very proper earl would rather create a scene then leave her alone with the Duke of Mallen. After years of Christopher’s aloofness, Sophie had thought herself accustomed to his disdain. The pain that knifed through her proved how very wrong she was. Her toes curled inside her sopping wet slippers. She’d never before resented him the way she did now.

Mallen’s gaze caught and held hers for a moment. He frowned, returning his attention to Christopher. “I escorted the lady here. It is only appropriate I see her home.”

Christopher’s hazel eyes snapped fire. “I’ve known the lady’s family for some time. I imagine they’d prefer I help her from this latest scrape she’s gotten herself into.”

Oh, the lout.

She dipped the tip of her wet silk slipper, beyond all hope of repair into a patch of mud and flicked it in his direction.

Thwack
!

The thick, soppy dirt landed on the front of his fawn-colored breeches. It proceeded to drip a thin, muddy trail down his legs, and onto his boots.

Christopher jerked as though she’d fired a pistol at his chest and not merely a small bit of dirt onto his once immaculate attire.

“Uh-my foot slipped,” she said, when his gaze narrowed on her.

Mallen chuckled and gave Sophie a slow wink that said he knew there’d been no accident there. They shared a smile.

“And for the love of Christ, stop winking at her,” Christopher bit out.

Mallen’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t wink at her before this.”

“You winked at her during Lord and Lady Cavendish’s ball.”

The lines in Mallen’s forehead deepened. “Did I?”

Christopher ticked it off on his fingers. “During your first set and a second time when you fetched her ratafia. This is now the third. Stop winking at her.”

Sophie started. What an odd thing for Christopher to note not once, not twice, but three times.

The sun dipped behind a cloud and she shivered, tugging Christopher’s too large jacket close.

His gaze snapped over to her. “You are cold, Sophie. Let me escort you home.”

Did she imagine the gentleness to his offer?

He held out his arm. Sophie hesitated a moment, torn. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and troubled the flesh, knowing with all the intuition of a lady who was written about regularly in
Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet
, that whatever decision she made just then, would be the wrong one.

She placed her fingertips in Christopher’s, and he guided them to the crook of his sleeve.

The Duke of Mallen cleared his throat. Her head whipped in his direction. “You needn’t go with the earl, Miss Winters. I’d be glad to see you home.” A thread of regret underlined his gallant offer.

She gave a small smile. “Thank you, Your Grace. You’ve been gracious enough. I’m very sorry to have created such a scandal.”

He bowed. “Think nothing of it. I must say I don’t remember smiling quite this much.”

She laughed. “You are too kind.”

“If he was kind, he wouldn’t allow you to stand here catching your death of cold,” Christopher said, sounding more and more like a petulant child and less like the polished earl so respected by Society.

The duke directed a long, stern look toward Christopher who appeared immune to the duke’s displeasure.

Fearing the two gentlemen would come to blows right there in the middle of St. James’s Park, and Lady Ackerly would have one more bit of gossip to report in her scandal rags, Sophie gave Christopher’s sleeve a gentle squeeze.

The slight pressure seemed to pull him back to the moment. He shook his head. “Good day, Mallen.”

Sophie opened her mouth to make her good-byes, but Christopher propelled her forward. She looked over her shoulder to the duke and found him frozen at the lake’s edge wearing the most bemused expression. With a sigh, she returned her attention to Christopher.

“My maid…”

“Again, you should have considered your maid before you dismissed her.”

Sophie gritted her teeth at his high-handedness. “Must you be so contrary?”

His lips turned down at the corners. “Contrary?”

She slashed her free hand in the air. “I do not know how you’ve managed to convince the
ton
you are so affable when you are so…so…”

He raised a single black brow. “So?”

“Combative.” The word burst from her lips with a violent intensity and all the fight drained out of her.

Christopher halted so suddenly, she stumbled against him. Their hips collided, and her thigh brushed against his sculpted, muscular leg. In spite of her wet garments, a wave of heat radiated from where their bodies touched, and sent shivers of awareness racing along her spine.

She swallowed hard.

He tipped her chin upward, seemingly unaware of how attuned her body was to his every move. This time, there was no mistaking the gentleness in his hazel eyes. “I’ve been boorish, Phi. Forgive me.”

Under any circumstances, Christopher’s apology would have raised warning bells. Staring up at him, Sophie felt herself hopelessly lost in the specks of gold and green dotting his irises. He studied her with a singular intensity; the way a man might study an old familiar lover. The warmth inside spread to her belly and fanned out, filling her, consuming her.

She swallowed. Why, this was utter madness. This was…this was…
Christopher
.

“Phi?” he whispered.

The use of her childhood moniker should have grated. It always had. Only this time, it seemed to roll off his tongue like a silken endearment.

“Yes?” Her response came out as a breathy whisper.

His gaze roved a hot path over her face, lingering upon her lips and for one, long, hopeful moment she thought he might kiss her.

“If you do not remember the way to Miss Winters’ home, I can escort the lady,” the Duke of Mallen’s droll voice cut into their exchange.

It was as though Sophie was once again submerged beneath the surface of the lake. Christopher glared over his shoulder at the duke, and then with Sophie’s hand tucked in his elbow, continued walking.

Sophie struggled to keep up with the brisk pace he set for them. Her breath came out in little gasping puffs. “Slow down.”

“I’m trying to hasten our escape before we earn any further notice,” he muttered.

Still, Christopher slowed his step.

She sneaked a quick look at the passersby who continued to study her and Christopher. A small sigh escaped her. Once again she’d fulfilled his very low-expectations of her. “Your efforts are futile, Christopher.”

The stretch of silence allowed her to consider the scandal she’d caused this afternoon. Her mother and brother would be livid that her outing with the duke had ended in such a dismal manner. At any other time the impending lecture she was to face would have consumed her thoughts. This time, she couldn’t stop focusing on the subtle shift that had occurred between her and Christopher. Her body had responded to his nearness with a savage heat and intensity that frightened and baffled her.

Never before had she seen him as anyone other than the boy who’d teased her and the young man who’d disdained her.

Until now, that is.

“You’re quiet, Phi. That’s not like you.”

She smiled. He knew her better than mayhap anyone, which might account for the discomfort she’d felt whenever he was near.

“I would love to know what thoughts are swirling through your mind.”

Sophie tripped. Those words. So very familiar. Spoken by another gentleman in a candlelit library.

“What is it, Phi?”

Odd how she’d not thought of her Odysseus in the library since Christopher had begun coming round. Until now. She took a deep breath, shoving back her foolish musings.

“Nothing. You just…reminded me of someone.”

Christopher looked at her with that same warm concern that was wreaking all kinds of havoc on her emotions. She wished he would stop being so…so…blasted caring. He was throwing into question everything she’d believed about him all these years, and it forced her to consider the possibility that he wasn’t the unkind, aloof gentleman she’d taken him for.

They reached the main entrance to the park.

“Miss Winters!”

Sophie groaned as her maid came tearing at an unladylike pace toward them.

“I’m fine,” Sophie said hurriedly when Lucy reached her side.

Lucy’s dark brown eyes conveyed her disapproval. “Whatever have you done
now
, miss.”

The ever so slight emphasis on that one word stabbed at Sophie’s pride, reminded her of how Society saw her. “I…”

“How do I explain this to the viscount?” Lucy snapped.

“Miss Winters needn’t answer to you,” The steely edge to Christopher’s words seemed to reach the maid.

She blushed. “I…” Lucy began, but her sentence trailed off. “My apologies, Miss Winters.”

“It is fine,” Sophie said, waving her hand.

Christopher held his arm out once again. “Now, I suggest we go, lest you catch your death of chill.”

Sophie placed her fingertips in his yet again.

Christopher had made the claim that he did not want to court her. He’d alluded to the fact that he did so out of some obligation.

Just then, however, his palpable concern at the lakeside and his defense of her now to Lucy were the actions of a gentleman defending his lady.

The thought was preposterous.

Impossible.

But if Sophie were being truthful with herself…quite…wonderful, indeed.

Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet

Miss S W created quite a stir at St. James’s Park when she took a tumble into the St. James’s Lake. More noteworthy, however, is the seeming rivalry between the Duke of M and Earl of W for the young lady’s affections.

~14~

Two hours and fifteen—now,
sixteen
minutes.

Sophie’s glance slid away from the clock atop the mantle in her brother’s office, over to where Geoffrey sat behind his desk.

It had taken two hours and ten minutes longer than usual for her to receive the summons to Geoffrey’s office following her scandal at the lake.

Geoffrey drummed his fingertips on the opened ledger that rested atop an otherwise immaculate surface.

The grating rhythm threatened to drive her mad.

Sophie shuffled on her feet. After several hours with no word from Geoffrey, she’d thought he might say nothing about her latest scrape at St. James’s Park.

A sigh escaped her. Mere wishful thinking on her part.

As she awaited his stern rebuke, she made a mental list of all the faux pas she’d committed that afternoon. There’d been the trip through St. James’s Park with the duke when everyone knew no respectable miss would dare accompany a gentleman so close to St. James Street.

Then, she couldn’t very well have challenged the duke’s decision to take her walking in that forbidden park. Nor, truth be told, had she wanted to. Certain liberties were afforded a lady of her age. A frown pulled at her lips. She’d
thought
she was afforded certain liberties.

Or mayhap Geoffrey would scold her for her tumble into the lake.

Or allowing Christopher to escort her home instead of the duke.

Or having gotten into a hackney with Christopher and her maid.

Or…

“Lucy informed me that you’ve been visiting London Hospital.”

Sophie blinked. She hadn’t been expecting her visits at London Hospital to be the reason for Geoffrey’s displeasure.

Geoffrey went on. “Lucy says you’ve been playing the pianoforte for the wounded soldiers there.”