Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(3)

“Yes you will, Christopher. If you don’t at least court the girl, I’ve no other choice but to cut off your allowance.”

Christopher stiffened. He directed his response at the doorway as a show of disrespect. “You are making the assumption that the young lady will accept my suit.”

“Way I see it, the girl is on her third Season without any prospects. She won’t have much of a choice.”

He closed his eyes.

“So what is your answer, boy?”

Christopher tugged at the lapels of his coat. “Go to hell,” he said.

His father’s laughter followed him from the room. It resonated with the cocksure arrogance of a man who knew Christopher had no eventual choice but capitulation.





Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet





Miss S.W. demonstrated her less than impressive archery skills with a loose arrow that found its way into the Marquess of A’s thigh. Fortunately the gentleman was not gravely injured. Just mortally embarrassed. And quite livid.


2

The spear and shield Miss Sophie Winters held clattered together noisily; the reverberations echoed off the walls of Lord and Lady Thomas long hallway. Sophie peered over her shoulder, breathless as she awaited discovery.

A sigh escaped her when no observers rushed forth with scandalized expressions, and she continued onward, her delicate, red muslin skirts swirling about her ankles.

Then, it was unlikely any lord or lady in attendance would be skulking in the shadows. Lord and Lady Thomas’s masquerade had become one of the most sought after invites of the Season.

After all, at a masquerade, a young lady could be anyone she wanted.

And magic could happen.

Of course, one would have to attend said festivities to even have a possible hint of magic.

Sophie paused beside a closed door. Her mother and brother’s disapproving voices echoed around her mind. She should return at once to the ballroom. Sophie hesitated, and then turned the handle, slipping inside.

Just a moment. She would steal just one moment for herself.

Blessed silence filled Lord Thomas’s library.

Sophie set down her shield and spear, and walked the perimeter of the enormous space. Her gaze climbed the shelving lined with leather volumes that reached from floor to ceiling. She craned her neck and studied the mural at the peak of the room. Plump, pink-cheeked cherubs fluttered about a garden. Sophie shook her head. What an odd bit of artwork. Cherubs belonged in the clouds and the heavens, not in a garden that looked remarkably like…she squinted up at the ceiling— Kensington Gardens. She hoped Lord and Lady Thomas’s literary collection was a deal better than their preference in artwork. Sophie returned her attention to the nearby shelving. She tugged a random book free all the while, considering her circumstances.

At almost two and twenty, and very nearly on the shelf, Sophie had become rather practical.

It appeared unlikely she would ever make a match. A match of her choosing, that is. Instead, she’d have to rely on her familial connections to other peers.

Such a revelation had bothered her immensely when she was eighteen. Stung when she was nineteen. By twenty, she’d thought of her marriage prospects less and less.

Now, she found she could do without her brother’s constant parade of eligible bachelors. Especially when those gentlemen had grander aspirations for a wife than Sophie, who even in her own estimation, was a short, plump, rather clumsy, almost spinster.

Unfortunately, her brother and mother had grown impatient with her wallflower status. If her brother, Geoffrey had his way, she’d find herself wed to a man of his choosing. Of late, he’d spoken quite freely about that old, lecherous widow, Lord Carmichael. Sophie suspected it was a mere threat, but an unwed lady could never be too certain. She shuddered at the thought of marriage to the corpulent lord with his garlic-scented breath.

With a sigh, she fanned the pages of the book in her hands. Based on its firm spine and immaculate gold leaf pages, she’d venture Lord and Lady Thomas were far from avid readers.

She skimmed the pages of Homer’s Odyssey. Wouldn’t it be nice to go away, to leave home, and travel the far reaches of the world as Odysseus had? She continued staring down at the title.

A quiet click drew her attention to the doorway and she silently cursed.

The book slipped from her fingers and landed with a soft thump upon Lord Thomas’s Aubusson carpet.

Sophie crawled behind the nearest sofa and pressed herself against the gold brocade piece of furniture.

The door closed.

She pressed a hand tight to her chest, certain the loud, thumping organ would alert her sudden company to her presence.

Silence reigned. Perhaps, the person had merely peeked in the library and then left. Perhaps…

The soft shuffle of feet as the interloper crossed over to Lord Thomas’ drink cart quashed any such hope. A soft tinkling of crystal touching crystal, and then the steady stream of liquid being poured into a glass echoed in the stillness.

Sophie peeked out from behind the sofa to see who’d shattered her stolen interlude, but the dark cast of the room, illuminated by only a handful of candles, cloaked the stranger in shadows.

She could make out a towering figure. Sophie squinted, trying to bring him into greater focus. The gentleman wore white robes that stood in stark contrast to the midnight black that shrouded Lord Thomas’s library. She edged a bit closer to the edge of the sofa, pressing her back against the velvet fabric. Bits of dust floated off the material and danced about the air.