Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(29)

Miss S.W. was abandoned on the dance floor by the distinguished Earl of W. One can only wonder what the young lady did to so offend…

“I say, you look to be in need of an escort.”

Sophie jumped, slapping a hand to her breast. She spun to face the Duke of Mallen. Her eyes traveled the length of his more than six-foot frame. His golden halo of hair gave him the look of an avenging archangel, which in that moment, he may as well have been.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she murmured and accepted his proffered arm.

He leaned close and whispered into her ear. “That makes a gentleman feel rather good about himself.”

“And it makes a young lady feel rather good to be rescued from sure embarrassment,” she said in hushed tones. On the heel of her honest admission, heat flooded her cheeks. “I, ah-that is, uh…”

Mallen winked. There for all to see. He winked! Sophie glanced around. The crowd of onlookers murmured and eyed her and the Duke of Mallen with dogged intensity.

“It’s not like Waxham to be so rude.”

“It depends on who you are,” she muttered.

Mallen arched a brow. “Oh?”

She clamped her lips tight. If she were to prattle on, then she’d be no different than that horrid Lady Ackerly.

Sophie eyed the row of chairs occupied by the other wallflowers. It seemed so very far away and she couldn’t very well say nothing to the Duke of Mallen’s pointed ‘Oh.’ Fortunately, he saved her from responding.

“Might I fetch you a glass of ratafia?”

She stumbled against him. The duke tightened his hold to keep her from falling. “That would be lovely,” she said.

“Now, Miss Winters, tell me what it was that Waxham did to offend you.”

Both his tone and request belonged to a man in possession of one of the oldest, most distinguished titles; a man accustomed to having his commands obeyed. She stole a sideways glance up at the duke. “Is this a test, Your Grace?”

He looked down at her, blankly.

“If I do not respond to your inquiry, well then I’m surely rude. If I do reply, then I’m no different than Lady Ackerly.”

His brow wrinkled. “Who?”

“Never mind,” she said. Making reference to the gossip column that highlighted her social failings would be the height of foolishness—especially in front of the Duke of Mallen.

“It doesn’t escape my notice that you’ve failed to answer my question about Waxham.”

Sophie tapped his arm with the tip of her fan. “Nor does it escape my notice that you are in fact searching for gossip about Waxham.”

His tall, muscular frame went ramrod straight. Sophie bit the inside of her cheek. Drat. She always managed to say the absolute worst thing. Nay, all the wrong things. Her mother’s niggling voice pierced her silent thoughts. Sophie we do not insult peers of the realm.

“Forgive me,” Sophie said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean…”

Mallen tossed his head back and barked with laughter, effectively cutting into her apology.

Sophie started. The ton wouldn’t know what to make of this; a waltz with the Earl of Waxham, laughter and ratafia from the Duke of Mallen. “If you aren’t careful, Your Grace, you’re going to give me the reputation as an engaging miss.”



He looked down at her. A smile glinted in his eyes.

Sophie angled her head. Funny, she’d never known eyes could smile.

“I see why my sister enjoys your company, Miss Winters.”

A wave of longing for Emmaline’s company filled Sophie. “Thank you, Your Grace,” Sophie said, tamping down any melancholy.

They reached the row of wallflowers. Sophie curtsied and claimed her familiar seat.

“I’ll return momentarily,” he promised. He paused and yet again, winked. “And then there’ll be no more evading my question about Waxham.”

Sophie watched him walk off. Well, if that wasn’t a ducal order. Unfortunately for the duke, Sophie had long ago perfected the art of defying orders.





Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet





Miss S.W. spilled wine upon Brummel’s immaculate, satin breeches. Fortunate for Brummell, the shade of the spirits matched the fabric of his trousers.


9

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows in the Red Parlor. The sun’s rays beamed from the crystal chandelier, and shot prisms of light around the room. Sophie’s eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness. She set down her copy of Lord Byron’s sonnets. Her gaze wandered over to Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet as she considered the events of last evening. As expected the scandal page had noted the manner in which the Earl of Waxham had stormed off following their set.

This time, however, the paper made mention of the Duke of M’s peculiar interest in Sophie. Lady Ackerly had managed to somehow turn the duke’s attention into an insult.

Regardless, it had come quite close to a compliment, and Sophie would have to accept such praise where she could from the nasty scandal sheet.

She picked up the book, and returned her attention to Byron’s work.

“You have a caller, Miss Winters.”

Sophie glanced up at the servant in the doorway. “A caller?” she repeated in unison with her maid, Lucy, who sat in the far corner of the room.