The Rogue Not Taken (Scandal & Scoundrel #1)(72)

She supposed he thought she would be grateful for his arrival. But instead, it embarrassed her quite thoroughly. She didn’t want him to see that this had turned into such a disaster. She didn’t want him to see that she was alone. Without a home. Without a purpose.

She didn’t want him to gloat.

She didn’t want him to judge her.

Embarrassment flared hot and unwelcome.

She wanted him to leave.

He stayed, sadly, turning back to starry-eyed Jane, and said, “But she was so eager to see her old friend”—he leaned in conspiratorially—“and, between us, to have one of these legendary buns, that she forgot to ask for one for me.” He looked to Robbie. “Of course, we’ve been traveling for days, so I forgive her. Exhaustion takes a toll on such a delicate lady.” Sophie resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Of course, my lord,” Robbie said, reaching for a second bun and a length of cotton in which to wrap them.

“Are you a lord?” Alice asked, the arrival of an aristocrat apparently more interesting than breakfast.

“I am indeed.” King bent down to meet her. “How do you do, Miss—”

Alice did not understand the prompt, so Sophie interjected. “Alice.”

“Alice is a lovely name. For a lovely young lady.”

Alice laughed. “I’m not a lady.” She looked to Sophie. “But she is.”

“She is,” Jane replied. “She’s to be a marchioness. And then a duchess.”

Alice’s eyes went wide. “Cor!”

“Alice!” Jane hushed her, turning an apologetic gaze on Sophie. “She doesn’t meet many aristocrats.”

Sophie smiled down at King, hating the way seeing him with little Alice made her feel as though she’d like to see him with other children. With his own. She pushed the thought out of her mind. “I rather wish I met fewer aristocrats myself.”

King laughed and stood, looking to all the world like a doting suitor.

Sophie wanted to kick him in the shin, and might have if Robbie hadn’t interrupted, extending a package of pastry to King. “Two buns, my lord.”

“Thank you. Is there any way you might spare a third?” King asked, smiling down at Sophie, obviously enjoying the part he played, “The coachman will no doubt be peckish.”

“No doubt.” Sophie said, barely containing her irritation. Was he never planning to leave this place? “You are very kind.”

He leaned close, his words whispering at her ear, loud enough for the whole town to overhear. “Only when I am with you.”

Still, she blushed, hating herself for it. For wishing it was true.

Hating him for it.

He was making everything worse.

“Thank you,” he said to Jane as she packed the buns and finished the transaction, slathering on the outrageous. “You both must come to the wedding brunch. As Sophie’s friends and my guests.”

Embarrassment and uncertainty were instantly replaced with fury. It was one thing to tease her, quite another to extravagantly, boldly lie. There would be no wedding brunch. Indeed, in minutes, they would part ways. Forever.

“We really must take our leave, my lord. Mr. and Mrs. Lander are just starting their day.”

“And me!” Alice said.

“Alice, as well,” Sophie said, grateful for the additional assist.

King crouched down to speak to Alice, as though it were thoroughly normal for a marquess to attend to a child. “I apologize for interrupting your very busy day, Miss Alice.”

The little girl nodded. “Mama said I could have two buns.”

He smiled, and Sophie hated the way her heart constricted. Surely, she would respond to any man’s kindness to children. It was a lovely tableau.

Made lovelier by him.

Nonsense.

“My lord,” she said.

He stood. “Lead the way, my lady.”

And so it was that she did lead the way, across the street and around to the far side of the carriage, before she turned and found him immediately behind her. She drew closer, toe to toe, nose to nose. Narrowing her gaze, she said, “I suppose you think that was amusing?”

His brows rose in feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She narrowed her gaze and spoke in a low whisper, keenly aware of the coachman halfway across the greensward. “You know precisely what I mean. You marched yourself into that bakery and saw me thoroughly humiliated.”

“Humiliated? I saw you engaged to a marquess. I saw you made a future duchess!”

She blinked. He was mad. It was the only explanation. Either that, or he was simply cruel. “Except I am no such thing! What will happen when you don’t marry me? When I am nothing but the woman the Marquess of Eversley tossed over? I realize you’ve ruined a fair number of women in your day, you scoundrel, but that doesn’t give you the right to ruin me, as well.”

“If we want to be specific, you were ruined the moment you donned livery and stowed away in my carriage.”

He was right of course. “I don’t want to be specific.”

He smirked. “I don’t suppose you do.”

“I imagine you are enjoying this? Your perfect win—one more to add to a lifetime of successes?” He opened his mouth to reply, but she continued, furious. “Of course you are enjoying it, because you have enjoyed every one of my errors since the beginning of our acquaintance. You have spent the last few days mocking me, so why not add another, final opportunity?” She stepped away, spreading her arms wide. “Don’t stop now, Your Highness. Isn’t this what you live for? To tell me how wrong I’ve been from the start? How right you’ve been? To make me feel a dozen times a fool?”