Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (19 page)

Lucy had a bigger mouth than the carp Sophie had used to catch in Father’s lake. She took a breath, prepared to defend her recent outings at the hospital.

A grin formed on Geoffrey’s lips. “Well done, sister.”

She wrinkled her brow, uncertain of the direction of this latest scolding.

“The duke serves on the board of London Hospital. Did Mallen suggest you visit the hospital?”

“Mallen?” She knew she sounded like a sapskull, but there was no helping it. Whatever was her brother talking about?

“If Mallen suggested it, then I want you to continue your visits.”

Sophie opened her mouth to correct his error, and then promptly closed it. It hardly behooved her to explain it had in fact been Emmaline who’d initiated Sophie’s visits to the hospital. If the only reason Geoffrey allowed her to attend was to encourage the duke’s suit, so be it. For then, Sophie would still be able to continue her trips to the hospital.

“Are we done, here?” Sophie shifted on her feet.

Geoffrey snorted. “Hardly.”

So he did plan to scold her for the incident at the lake. Oh blast, she’d had enough. “Well, get on with it, Geoffrey.”

“Get on with what?”

Sophie spun on her heel. Mother sailed through the doorway, wearing a silly smile on her ageless, if plump cheeks.

“Hullo, Mother.” Sophie greeted.

Mother responded with a giggle. “Well-done, Sophie. It would appear you were correct.”

Hmm. Based on Mother’s girlish response, it appeared she was pleased with Sophie’s latest scandal. This was a rather unexpected turn of events.

Mother clapped her hands. “Don’t you have anything to say, daughter?”

A wave of heat flooded Sophie’s cheeks. It took very little to piece together just what had earned Geoffrey and Mother’s approval. “Uh, thank you?”

Mother came to a stop in front of her. She claimed her hands and spun her around in a circle. “I must be truthful. When you first claimed you could bring a duke up to scratch—”

“Not just any duke,” Geoffrey chimed in. “The Duke of Mallen.”

“Yes, yes,” Mother exclaimed. “Whenever you told us you could bring the duke up to scratch, well I thought you were madder than King George himself.”

“We both did,” Geoffrey tossed out for good measure.

Sophie tapped her toes on the floor. “I’m flattered.” They apparently were so smitten with the idea of her having snared the Duke of Mallen’s attention that they either ignored or failed to hear the sarcasm in her tone. “So I’m
not
here for a lecture from you?” she asked hesitantly, then immediately wanted to call back the impulsive question.

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Geoffrey drawled.

She folded her arms across her chest. Alas, she should have known better.

“You, once again are responsible for several pieces of unwanted gossip.”

“Geoffrey,” Mother said.

Mother and son shared a look. Then Geoffrey sat back in his chair. “Very well. I promised Mother I would let the matter rest.”

“What?” Sophie blurted. Her mother wasn’t known for her magnanimity where Sophie’s escapades were concerned.

Mother inclined her head. “I think it is more important that we focus on what you’ve accomplished.”

“You mean my fall into the lake?”

“Don’t be silly, Sophie,” her mother snapped.

“She refers to Mallen and Waxham,” Geoffrey said with a heavy amount of impatience in his tone. “It seems you were correct.”

Geoffrey claimed Sophie had been right about something. He hadn’t reprimanded her for the incident in the park. Mother was pleased with her. Yes, the world had gone all topsy turvy on Sophie.

Geoffrey continued. “It is no longer prudent to accept Waxham’s suit.”

Sophie’s heart did a funny little leap. “Did he ask for permission to wed me?”

Her brother shook his head. “The marquess indicated an offer of marriage would be coming soon.”

The organ beneath her breast crashed down, somewhere to the vicinity of her toes. It was a foolish, inexplicable reaction. Whyever would she want Christopher to make her an offer of marriage? They were two very different people. He was the proper, sought-after earl…and she was, well—the Incorrigible Miss. Sophie would do better with a gentleman who did not fear Society’s censure. Say, a gentleman who would steal into his host’s library and pilfer his brandy and flirt wildly with her.

Her mother and brother exchanged a look. “You are quiet, Sophie.” Geoffrey’s tone said he was leery of such an uncharacteristic reaction from her.

“It’s just that…that…”

“What?” her mother prodded.

Sophie sank into the leather winged-back chair at the foot of her brother’s desk. “Christopher doesn’t want to court me.”

“Don’t be foolish,” her mother said, settling into the chair alongside Sophie. “Tell her not to be foolish, Geoffrey.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not he wants to court you. He is.” It didn’t escape her notice the manner in which he danced around their mother’s order. “And I’ll not accept a bid for your hand until we ascertain the extent of Mallen’s interest.”

She studied the palms of her hands. Geoffrey spoke with such a calculated matter-of-factness about her future. But what was she to say in return? That she wanted to be courted not because a gentleman was being forced to do so? That she wanted to be loved? He’d scoff at such fanciful yearnings.

Mother reached over and took her hand. “We mustn’t be hasty and accept a lesser man.”

Sophie frowned. “Christopher isn’t a lesser man.” Granted he didn’t possess the ducal title held by Mallen, but most young ladies would trade their baby finger to wed the earl.

Her mother and brother exchanged a look. “He isn’t a duke, Sophie,” Geoffrey pointed out in a tone he might reserve for a small child.

She shifted, her stomach tightened at her title-grasping mother and brother’s ill-words about Christopher. It mattered not that a short while ago, she would have eagerly agreed with their unfavorable opinion of him. Something had shifted. Perhaps it was the universe. But, something had changed between her and Christopher.

She bit the inside of her lip, shamed by her family who prattled on about the Duke of Mallen and his recent visit. Whatever would they do when they discovered the Duke of Mallen had invited her for another walk through Hyde Park? Dance a lively country reel of happiness throughout Geoffrey’s office?

“Sophie?” Her mother tried to gain her attention.

Sophie shook her head. “I’m sorry. I was wool-gathering.”

Geoffrey and Mother exchanged a look. “Do you think you can bring the duke up to scratch?”

Not a chance in God’s good Earth. “Uh, yes?” The truth was that she’d merely suggested the duke’s name to her brother and mother as a means of ending their plans to see her wed Christopher.

Then, as if he were a mythical creature come to life, the young duke had shown up and added truth to the words she’d uttered to her family. Sophie expected she should feel…more than this apathy that plagued her. After all, how many times had she and her friend Emmaline yearned for suitors who would visit, recite poetry, bring flowers? Sophie had experienced that yesterday and remained oddly…empty.

She told herself it was her mother and brother’s desperate grasp at the Duke of Mallen’s title that sat heavily on her heart.

She told herself that.

But she knew she lied.

“Are we done here, Geoffrey?” Sophie asked with a touch of impatience. The last thing she cared to do was discuss a possible strategy to secure the most advantageous union. It was all so…calculated.

Geoffrey waved his hand. “Yes, yes. I wanted to tell you that I’m very pleased with you.”

He spoke to her like she was a small child who’d earned her parent’s favor.

A knock sounded at the door and Sophie looked up to where a servant stood framed in the entrance.

“Miss Winters has a visitor. I took the liberty of showing the Earl of Waxham to the Red Parlor.”

Sophie told herself that the joy that filled her was only because Christopher had rescued her from this meeting with her brother and mother.

Geoffrey waved his hand. “We’re done here, Sophie.”

She gritted her teeth at his high-handedness and took her leave.

As she made her way to the Red Parlor, she considered her meeting with Geoffrey. For whatever reason, the Duke of Mallen had decided to court her.

It defied logic.

And deterred Geoffrey from making a match between her and Christopher.

Sophie should want nothing more in the world than a match with Mallen. Just one step shy of royalty, he was witty, charming, and more handsome than a gentleman had a right to be.

Of late, she found she preferred Christopher’s too-long dark locks to Mallen’s golden halo.

She stepped into the parlor.

Christopher stood at the window, staring down into the street below, his hands clasped behind his back.

She used the moment as an opportunity to study him. This man before her, the one who’d rescued Duke, who’d defended her to Lucy, was so very different than the man she’d known over the years. All the girlish resentment she’d carried for so long had begun to fade.

As though he sensed her presence, Christopher spun on his heel. He smiled. “Hullo, Phi.”

Sophie expected after their recent meeting and the scandal she’d created in the park that he would be if nothing else, faintly disapproving. “Hello, Christopher.”

She stepped into the room and took a seat.

He studied her with an inscrutable expression. “I came to see how you fared following your recent swim.”

Her lips tugged at the corners. “I’m doing splendidly. Thank you for your assistance.”

Christopher sketched a bow. “I imagine your brother was quite put out with you.”

A frisson of guilt unfurled within her belly. She couldn’t very well explain that Geoffrey had been far more understanding because of the duke’s courtship. Suddenly uncomfortable, Sophie motioned to the seat across from her. “Please sit, Christopher. I’ll call for refreshments.” She didn’t wait but rather rang instantly for a servant to fetch tea and pastries.

He waited for the servant to take his leave and then slid into the seat closest to her. His finger beat a steady rhythm along his thigh, drawing her attention downward. Goodness, she’d never before noted how…how very masculine, how very
muscular
he was. She fanned herself. Young, unwed ladies weren’t to notice a gentleman’s legs. If her mother ever found out the unseemly direction her thoughts had wandered she’d have a tower built and lock Sophie away in it.

“I say, did you hear me, Phi? You haven’t developed a fever, have you?”

Sophie realized she’d been cooling herself and froze. She jerked her gaze upward, heat staining her neck and climbing up to her cheeks. “Uh, I’m sorry. No. No fever.”

“I asked if you’d like to fetch ices at Gunter’s.”

“What?”

“You know, ices. Delectable, cool treats you can find at…”

She laughed and swatted at him. “Don’t be silly. And ices would be delightful.”

“Splendid.”

A servant appeared with a tray of pastries and tea. Sophie waited until he took his leave before reaching for a pastry. “Ooh, a lemon mince tart. I swear they are one of my…” Her fingers stilled over the tray. She yanked her hand back.

Christopher motioned to the tray. “No need to wait on my account, Phi. After all, we’re friends.”

“Is that what we are?” The words slipped out, and she was unable to call them back.

“I like to think so.”

“Who would have imagined you would ever consider me a friend?”

Christopher reached over for a tart. He held it out to her. She accepted it, there fingers brushing. “We’ve grown up.”

Sophie nibbled at the edge of the treat. Yes, they were no longer children. Funny how that truth had eluded them until only just recently.

“So Mallen’s been courting you.”

She choked around a mouthful of the flaky, lemon treat.

Christopher reached over to pat her on the back but she waved him off.

“Fine. Fine,” she managed.

He folded his arms at his chest. “Well?”

Sophie directed her eyes downward toward the plate. How did he expect her to reply to that statement? “I didn’t know it was a question, Christopher.”

“Fair enough.”

She made to take another bite.

“And?”

She froze mid-bite. “It seems that way.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sophie sighed. “It seems so very odd. I’ve known the duke any number of years. He never seemed to take note of me before this Season.”

“Mayhap he’s finally come to appreciate your beauty,” he said, with a solemnity that tugged at her heart.

“Or mayhap he needs to be committed to Bedlam,” she said under her breath. “Though I prefer your suggestion much more.”

***

Christopher’s gut roiled at her unwitting comment about Bedlam. It reminded him of his father’s threat if he didn’t wed Sophie. Not for the first time since Christopher had developed his scheme, tendrils of guilt snaked around his belly.

Based on Sophie’s words, she was suspicious of Mallen’s motives and the reality of it was that she should be.

Only…Christopher’s defense of her beauty was born of truth.

For all these years, he’d he failed to note her winsome beauty, a laugh that rang like the purest tinkling bells, her clever wit—until now.

“He’d be mad not to want to court you, Phi.”

She snorted. “
You
must have developed the fever.”

Perhaps he had. Because just then, he couldn’t tear his eyes from that plump, lower lip.

God help him…

He stood so suddenly, his legs knocked the small table in front of them, something tumbled to the floor.

Sophie craned her head back to look at him. “Christopher…” A squeak escaped her when he pulled her to her feet.

Christopher dipped his head, his lips finding hers and at last explored the sweet beauty of her mouth. He angled his head, and trailed fingers along the curve of her waist.

A breathy little moan escaped Sophie. It was all the encouragement he needed. He parted her lips and his tongue delved inside the warm contours of her mouth. She tasted of lemon and spice and he wanted to devour her right there.