Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (21 page)

She blew back the piece of hair but it fell promptly back into place. “You teased me a good deal.”

He brushed the tip of his finger along her lower lip. “You weren’t the sweetest young girl, Phi.”

Sophie swatted his hand. “Only because you were so unconscionable.”

“Was I?”

She nodded. “Horribly.”

“Phi?”

“Yes?”

“Do you really want to spend this time talking about the childhood years we spent fighting one another?”

Her mouth went dry. “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

***

No truer words were ever spoken.

When Christopher accepted the invite to Lord and Lady Brackenridge’s soiree, he’d done so with the most dishonorable of intentions. He’d intended to follow through with his father’s directive and compromise Sophie. All Christopher’s honor and integrity had been replaced with a blood-curdling fear of being locked away in Bedlam for the remainder of his days.

He’d entered the hall, sought her out, and lured her to Lord Brackenridge’s library, knowing very well the likelihood of their timed departure being observed and discovered.

Only, Christopher had come to appreciate her wit, intelligence, and…the candlelight bathed her face in a soft glow— the depth of her beauty.

She deserved more than this…more than him.

It struck Christopher that he cared more about her happiness than he did his father’s plans for him.

He could not ruin her reputation.

Not even to save himself.

“You need to leave, Phi,” he said, quietly.

She tipped her head at an endearing little angle. “What if I don’t want to leave?”

His eyes slid momentarily closed as he battled the selfish desire to keep her at his side. “Go,” he said, his tone harsher than intended. However, they danced with disaster. Christopher needed her to flee. He needed her to save herself from the threat of scandal.

Hurt flooded Sophie’s eyes. She jutted her chin out. “Tell me you want me gone, and I shall leave. Tell me you don’t want me here.”

Resplendent in her diamond encrusted pale pink gown, with generous breasts cresting the floral bodice of her glittering décolletage, he could sooner cut off his left arm than set her free. Christopher didn’t care about the threat of scandal, the lies between them—he only knew and felt her.

“I don’t want you to leave, Sophie.” It was the first honest thought he’d had that evening.

She smiled and leaned close. “I know,” she whispered. Again, that loose golden tendril he’d released from her intricate chignon fell over her brow. He reached up and tucked it under the thin diamond band that rested like a shining halo upon her shimmering gold locks.

Christopher cupped the back of her satiny soft neck and rubbed the flesh.

A little moan escaped her. “I’m sure I shouldn’t say this, but that feels delicious.”

He lowered his brow to hers. “I like that you’re honest with me, Phi.”
You crave her honesty, but you’ve been duplicitous in your intentions for her.
He crushed the jeering voice inside his mind and lowered his head.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” she blurted.

His mouth froze a hairsbreadth away from her bow-shaped lips. He pulled away. That had been true at one time. Everything had since changed.

“Christopher?”

“Of course I like you, Phi.” He sat back and rested his head along the back of the ivory striped sofa.

“You haven’t spoken to me in years.”

“That’s not true.”

She pinched his arm. “I’ve already said hello and good-bye do not count, Christopher.”

Christopher draped a hand over his eyes as he weighed just how much to reveal to Sophie. For the easy camaraderie that had developed between them in the past weeks, the prospect of humbling himself at her feet, of acknowledging his greatest failings dug at his insides. What woman, especially one of Sophie’s intellect, could respect a man who struggled to read?

His throat moved reflexively.

Her brow wrinkled. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he said, his word garbled to his own ears. “Sophie, we were both awful to each other over the years. We had a way of knowing each other’s greatest weakness and using that to hurt one another.” That was as close as he preferred to get without acknowledging the whole truth.

“Very horrid of us.”

He felt the first real stirrings of amusement that night. His lips twitched. “Yes. It was.”

“We’re no longer children, though,” she said and her husky alto better suited to kisses and forbidden whispers reminded him of all the wicked things he wanted to do with her.

Christopher lowered his head. Her breath, fanned his lips…

“You courted Emmaline.”

Only Sophie could douse his ardor as quick as she’d enflamed his senses. He quirked a brow. “Do you really care to discuss my courtship of Emmaline again?”

Her wide, unblinking blue eyes indicated that she very well did. Christopher would never fully understand a woman’s mind. There was nothing less Christopher wanted to consider than Sophie with another man. Yet, in this moment, instead of allowing him to kiss her senseless, Sophie preferred to discuss his courtship of her dearest friend.

He sighed. “I already told you, Phi. I’ve known Mallen since we were children.”

“You’ve known Geoffrey since you were children.”

“And?”

“Is that why you’ve been courting me?”

Christopher realized with a dawning awareness that for all the time they’d spent together these past weeks, Sophie still mistrusted his motives. His sweet, prudent Sophie. She had the good sense to be cautious of him.

It felt like he were one slip away from saying the absolute wrong thing. He picked his way carefully around his next words. “Sophie, I like being with you. That is why I’m courting you.” The lies between them reared their ugly head but Christopher tamped them down. Originally his interest in Sophie may have been born of his father’s ultimatum, but somewhere along the way, all that had changed.

“Christopher?”

A long breath of air escaped him. “Yes, Phi?”

“Is it wrong that I want you to kiss me?”

He groaned. “You need to go,” he pleaded.

Fire lit her eyes. “No.”

His mouth closed over hers…

A startled gasp cut through the stillness of the room.

“Oh my goodness! Miss Winters!”

Christopher looked to the doorway and his stomach clenched.

Bloody hell.

Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet

Though not of particular note, Miss S.W. was seen at the Bartholomew Fair. What is of particular note was the manner in which the young lady rescued the dog used in the bear-dancing routine. Also noteworthy was the manner in which Miss S.W. ran from the fairgrounds with the dog in her arms.

~16~

Sophie tumbled from atop the perch of soft contentment she rested, and careened back down to earth.

Her gaze flew to the doorway where a bevy of spectators stood, witness to her social demise. And there at the center of the macabre scene were her mother and brother.

When Sophie had been a girl of five, her brother Geoffrey had tossed her into the lake upon their family’s country estate. She’d sunk beneath the dark, icy surface. Water had filled her throat and lungs until she’d been consumed by a cloying helplessness.

This moment was not remarkably unlike that horrific day from long ago.

Sophie’s stomach churned and in a paltry attempt to blot out the shame and fury radiating from her mother and brother’s eyes, she buried her face within the crook of Christopher’s shoulder. Her efforts were for naught. Until she was gone from this earth, she would forever feel that keen sense of disappointment; greater than all other moments in her past.

“Waxham.” Her brother’s voice fairly dripped rage. “Remove your hand from my sister’s person this instant.”

Sophie’s eyes fell to the Aubusson carpet. She wanted to pull back the red trim border of the fabric and tug it over her head. She’d counted no fewer than five people alongside her mother and brother.

As if a warrior of old defending his lady, Christopher stood and placed himself between Sophie and Lady Brackenridge’s guests.

It did little, however, to shield Sophie from Lady Brackenridge. The thin, wrinkled older woman stepped into the room, clapping her hands. “Now, now. We’ve seen enough here.” The victorious glint in her eyes was the response of a woman who knew she’d stumbled upon the latest
on dit.

“Sophie, come along, now,” her mother barked.

Sophie jumped to her feet, but not before Christopher reached for her hand, and leaned down to whisper, “I’ll do right by you, Phi.”

She managed a jerky nod, knowing that equated to an offer of marriage.

Even though he didn’t want to, he would wed her. It was as though a vise were being squeezed about her heart. He would
do right by her
…but not because he desired a match with her.

“Sophie,” her mother said again. “Come.” Mother wrapped her fingers around Sophie’s forearm and all but dragged her from the room, and through the same halls Sophie had wandered ten, twenty, thirty minutes ago? Some point in Christopher’s company, time and reality had all fallen away.

A half-sob, half-laugh lodged in her throat.

Her mother shot her a silencing look.

They didn’t speak again until they were safely ensconced within their carriage.

Sophie slid into the seat opposite her mother. She pulled back the red velvet curtain that covered the window and peered at Lady Brackenridge’s townhouse, awash in candlelight. The glow radiated off the carriage window. Sophie rested her head against the glass, expecting the surface to feel warm against her skin. Instead, the cool of the glass chilled her already trembling form.

“Drop that curtain, Sophie,” her mother snapped.

Sophie did as she was bid. She held her palms up. “Mother…”

“Not a word. Not a single word.” Rage poured from her mother’s blue eyes.

She tried again. “I’m sorry…”

Her mother’s bitter laugh interrupted her paltry attempt at an apology. “Do you think an apology can fix what you’ve done this evening, Sophie?”

“Christopher will offer for me,” Sophie said. Surely that certainty would appease her mother and brother’s ire. Not that she wanted a husband whose hand had been forced in such a public manner. There were, however, certain scandals a young lady’s reputation could not weather. Being discovered alone, locked in an intimate embrace with a gentleman…tears flooded Sophie’s eyes. She blinked them back.

“You don’t comprehend the damage you’ve done, Sophie. Your brother and I have been very tolerant of the scandals you’ve created over the years. But this,” her mother hissed. She slashed the air with her hand, “this is beyond the pale. For if Waxham doesn’t offer for you…”

“He will!” He’d said he would, amidst a sea of witnesses. She couldn’t imagine the man she’d come to know would so callously abandon her to weather this scandal on her own.

“For if he doesn’t,” her mother went on as though Sophie hadn’t spoken. “You’ll be ruined and no one will want you.”

This wouldn’t serve as a time to remind Mother that she’d hardly been sought after
before
this scandal.

The carriage door opened and Geoffrey climbed inside. Sophie curled her fingers into tight little fists until her nails dug painfully into the soft flesh of her palm. The door closed behind him with an ominous click.

He slid into the seat beside their mother, giving him a direct vantage of Sophie. His gaze, however, remained fixed on the velvet curtain that shielded them from view.

The carriage lurched forward and Sophie’s stomach went with it. She swallowed down the bile that surged to the back of her throat.

“I hope you’re pleased with what you’ve done,” he said at long last.

Sophie shook her head until she realized Geoffrey’s hard stare remained fixed on the garish, red fabric.

“I’m sorry, Geoffrey.”

Geoffrey’s silence stretched until Sophie wanted to toss her head back and scream. She could take the disappointment dripping from his blue eyes. She deserved that. She would even welcome it if he railed at her until his voice rattled the windows of the carriage.

What she could not take was this portentous, stony silence.

The carriage jerked to a stop.

Sophie folded her hands upon her lap and studied her interlocked fingers until a servant opened the door.

Mother accepted the servant’s help. Geoffrey followed, and then held a hand up to Sophie. “Await me in my office,” he said, his tone low.

She nodded and made her way up the steps of their home, through the front doors.

The old butler caught her eye and gave his head a slow, pitying shake. She swallowed hard. It appeared word of her ruin had already made its way here. Sophie all but ran to her brother’s office. She closed the door behind her.

Mother and Geoffrey were most certainly off in discussion about Sophie’s latest scandal. Her mother and Geoffrey had made it quite clear that her response merited more than an apology. Beyond that, Sophie didn’t know how else she could try to make the situation right.

She pressed her fingers into her temples and forced herself to relive the moment when she and Christopher had been discovered.

Except, God forgive her, the taste of Christopher still lingered upon her lips, his touch still burned her skin.

She didn’t want him to wed her out of a sense of obligation and that was what his offer on the morning would amount to. Yet, she’d discovered only too late that she wanted him to court her and more than that—wanted him to want her; the way he’d wanted Emmaline.

Her heart turned over at the reminder of his affection for Emmaline. Oh, he’d spoken about his respect for the Duke of Mallen when discussing his courtship of Emmaline, but Sophie had known with a woman’s intuition that there’d been more there. Mayhap not on Emmaline’s part but on Christopher’s…and it ravaged her bruised heart.

“Sit down, Sophie.”

Sophie slammed her hand to her breast and spun around to face Geoffrey.

“Geoffrey…” Her words faded to silence and she promptly slid into the leather winged-back sofa across from his oak desk. It would be better to do as Geoffrey bid, if just this time.