Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(16)

Again, Christopher was returned to those pained moments of his youth when Father had jeered him for his academic failings. “I’m here because you requested my presence. Now you require a smile? Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?”

The door opened and Redbrooke’s butler greeted them. The gray-haired, lean older man smiled as they entered the townhouse. He assisted Christopher and his father out of their cloaks and passed them off to a waiting servant. “If you’ll follow me?”

He ushered them into a garish red parlor, adorned in gold ornamentation from etchings along the fireplace mantle to the arms of the King Louis’ sofas. He winced and fought the urge to shield his eyes.

“Lord Milford, how very good to see you!” The Viscountess Redbrooke rushed forward and with as little propriety as her daughter had exhibited growing up, took his father’s hands in her own and gave a squeeze.

Proper greetings were exchanged by everyone, until Redbrooke cleared his throat. He gestured to his sister who stood off to the corner of the room. “My lord, you remember my sister, Sophie.”

As if anyone could forget the little hellion.

Sophie dipped a curtsy for his father. “Always a pleasure, my lord.”

His father peered down his hawk-like nose at Sophie. His lip pulled back in a sneer, a clear indication that he’d found the young woman somehow wonting. “What a…lovely young woman you’ve grown into.”

An overwhelming urge to place himself between Sophie and his father gripped him. He might lay blame at her feet for that fateful night of the fire in his father’s stables, but she didn’t deserve to be victim to the marquess’ vileness.

“Really?” Sophie said under her breath. “That’s hardly convincing, my lord.”

Christopher laughed. It appeared Sophie had developed a stiff spine over the years.

His father’s brows dipped. “What was that, girl?”

The viscountess giggled nervously into her hand. “They would make an excellent couple, wouldn’t they, Milford?”

Sophie made a show of studying the tips of her slippers the way a scholar might study an exhibit at the Royal Museum. Christopher’s lips twitched with amusement.

The marquess glowered in Christopher’s direction. “Isn’t she lovely, Christopher?”

Christopher again looked to Sophie. She met his gaze with a bold intensity he appreciated. Her cornflower eyes snapped with humiliated rage. And he rocked back on his heels. Christ, if his father wasn’t right. The smooth expanse of creamy white breasts peeked from the daring décolletage of her yellow satin gown. Her gently flared hips were the kind of hips a man dreamed of.

Her eyes narrowed to catlike slits and he suspected she’d interpreted his silence as an insult. He gave his head a clearing shake. “Ah, yes. Just lovely.”

Her brows snapped together into an angry little line that said she resented this public humiliation their families had subjected her to. Sophie grew in his estimation.

“It is always a pleasure, Sophie,” Christopher said.

She inclined her head. “Yes. It is, always a pleasure. Just as it was a pleasure when you turned my boat in the lake adjoining our families’ properties?”

The viscountess gasped.

Christopher frowned. It appeared the little termagant was as much a hellfire as he remembered her to be. Still, it wouldn’t do to point out that he’d only tipped her vessel that day because she’d mocked him for the poor grades he’d received at Eton.

“Or there was the time you dipped the strands of my hair in ink. That too, was quite, how did you phrase it?” She arched a brow. “A pleasure?”

His father’s laugh broke the thick tension enveloping the room. “Christopher was something of a handful growing up.”

“Christopher was nearly fifteen when he did those things.” Her voice was soft but he swore she muttered those words beneath her breath. It appeared the viscountess heard a like response, for she glared at Sophie until the young lady had the good sense to look away.

Christopher’s eyes went to the gold clock atop the fireplace mantle. It was only a dinner. Soon it would all be over.

That was, if his father didn’t manage to see him wed the vixen.

***

Sophie stirred the carrot soup in front of her with the tip of her spoon. She stared down into the liquid contents of her bowl, wishing she were anywhere but at this table, sitting with these guests.

Fortunately her mother and brother were engaged in a full conversation about the weather, she speculated. Or mayhap they were speaking of the Season’s events? Or…

Christopher leaned close and whispered into her ear. “Your company is stimulating as usual.”

A flush of color heated her neck and it was all she could do to keep from dumping the contents of her bowl onto his immaculate black trousers. “And you’re as rude as ever,” she said between her teeth. She didn’t expect someone who was so polished and sought after by the ton to understand how devilishly awkward it was for Sophie to attend social situations.

She continued to direct her attention at the bowl in front of her. Oh, the smug, condescending beast! How he’d managed to garner the ton’s attention as one of the most sought after bachelors was well beyond her imaginings. He was nothing like—she shook her head and shoved thoughts of Odysseus from her mind.