Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(12)

Her ears perked up at the whinny of a horse, followed by a series of shrieks. “Duke,” she panted, and sprinted toward the mayhem.

“Miss Winters!” Lucy called out sharply. “The viscount…”

Sophie increased her pace, so that her maid was left in the distance. She very well knew the trouble awaiting her at home. She certainly didn’t require any reminder from her faithless maid.

Sophie crested a small grassy incline and arms akimbo, scanned the area. She froze at the sight of Duke. Her fawn-colored pug ran in circles about an enormous black mare. She groaned, and raced down the slight hill.

Her foot became entangled in the lace trim of her ivory gown. A gasp escaped her and she threw her arms out to steady herself but it was too late. She tumbled forward, bouncing, and sliding until she landed with a thump at the base of the rise.

Duke pounced on her chest with his front paws. She winced and gently moved him off her person. His coarse, salty tongue lapped her cheek and she turned her head to face the troublesome dog. “Oh, Duke. This is bad. This is very bad.” She could just imagine what Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet would read the next morning.

A towering figure leaned over her, blotting out her unfettered view of the late spring sky.

The gentleman dropped to a knee alongside her. “Are you hurt?”

She swallowed. “No. I…” Sophie shoved herself up on her elbows and groaned. Of all the riders in Hyde Park, it would be her misfortune that Duke should stumble upon Christopher Ansley, Earl of Waxham—her childhood nemesis and paragon of Society.

She’d have rather accepted help from Lady Ackerly. “You.”

Christopher frowned. “I should have suspected when this unattended fiend,” he jerked his chin in Duke’s direction, “nearly unseated me, you were somehow behind it.”

Duke sat back on his haunches. His little pink tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and he yapped happily at the earl. Apparently the dog was a far worse judge of character than she’d credited.

“I’m certain your beast spooked him,” she said in defense of her precocious pug. After all, that fiend, as Christopher had referred to him, was a good deal more loyal than most people.

Christopher’s frown deepened. “I’ll have you know, Intrepid is not a beast. She is a refined and beautiful lady.” He patted Duke upon the top of his head. Then, he seemed to remember his annoyance, for he yanked his hand back and grasped the edge of her skirts.

“What are you doing, Christopher?” she hissed, stealing several glances at the nearby voyeurs. She could only imagine how the scandal sheets would report on this latest scrape she’d managed to land herself in.

Christopher followed the direction of her stare, and glowered at the people staring at Sophie’s prone form. “I’m inspecting you for injury,” he said after their observers scurried off.

Her skin tingled from where his long fingers still clasped her ankle. She slapped his hand away, her heart hammering in the oddest way. “You mustn’t touch me. Not in public.” Not with said touch causing all the strangest, unfamiliar little sensations in her stomach.

Christopher grinned, and his attention shifted from her leg to her eyes. “Is that an invitation to touch you in private?”

Sophie slammed a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened. “You sir, are no gentleman.”

He gave a slow wink. “And running disheveled through Hyde Park, you hardly epitomize ladylike gentility.”

She wondered what the highly proper earl would say if he knew she was half seas over from alcohol she’d pilfered with a mystery gentleman the previous evening.

He cocked his head.

“What?” she blurted.

“I’m merely trying to interpret that mischievous glimmer in your eyes.” Christopher didn’t allow her an opportunity to respond, instead, leaned over her leg, and again reached for her ankle.

“I said, you mustn’t touch me,” she said, hurriedly. It wouldn’t do for her to be seen with Christopher handling her person in this very intimate manner.

He glanced up with such alacrity a black lock escaped the queue at the nape of his neck, and fell over his eye.

It was merely because he was trying to help her… and because it must be so very difficult for him to see…and the fact that he’d been surprisingly gentle with Duke, but Sophie gave in to the urge and brushed the lone strand back from his forehead.

Christopher’s whole body seemed to freeze.

A rush of heat flooded her cheeks. “I…uh…imagined it was difficult to see and thought if I moved the hair from your eyes that you’d be able to see a good deal better and…” Be silent, Sophie. Be silent. She promptly closed her mouth.

“You’ll touch my hair in public but won’t allow me to inspect your ankle?”

“It’s entirely different.”

Fortunate for Sophie, Christopher didn’t press the point because she really wasn’t altogether certain how it was dissimilar.

A beleaguered sigh escaped him. “Very well, then.” He stood and held a hand out to help her up.

And because she couldn’t sit there indefinitely in the midst of Hyde Park with an audience privy to her every action, Sophie placed her hand in his. Tears flooded her eyes when she made to rise and sank into a moist patch of soil. She fell back against the ground.