Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(30)

Sophie frowned at Lucy, who had the good sense to drop her eyes to the embroidery on her lap.

With the exception of her friend, Emmaline, there had been a dearth of callers for Sophie these past three years.

“The Earl of Waxham to see you.”

The book fell from her hands and landed on the floor with a loud thump. Christopher? If the servant had announced the king himself had shown up for tea and biscuits, she couldn’t have been more surprised. First, there had been Christopher’s very gentlemanly request to dance last evening. Then had come his apology for past wrongs he’d committed. Considering how he’d abandoned her in the middle of the dance floor last evening, she couldn’t imagine this was a social visit.

The butler cleared his throat. “Miss Winters? Shall I tell him you are receiving visitors?”

Sophie caught her lower lip between her teeth. There had to be some motive behind Christopher’s sudden attention.

“Miss Winters?”

“Uh-yes, that would be fine.”

The servant inclined his head and hurried off.

Sophie jumped to her feet. Her book lay forgotten on the floor as she recalled her mother and Geoffrey’s wishes—their desire to see her and Christopher wed. Sophie had been so convinced that Christopher would sooner see her to the devil than court her, that she’d not taken Geoffrey’s demands at all seriously.

Nor did Sophie believe for one moment that Christopher truly wanted to court her, let alone wed her. Not that either of their wishes were of singular importance in their status-driven Society. Most unions were forged on a good deal less than the connection shared by her and Christopher’s families.

She sighed. Mother had said she could do a good deal worse and Sophie knew most of the ton would be in agreement. After all, to Society, Sophie was nothing more than the plump, unwed, and unsought after sister to Viscount Redbrooke. She’d rather not spend the rest of her life amidst Christopher’s perfection, being reminded daily of all her many inadequacies.

She paced the Aubusson carpet. “What could he possibly want?” she muttered to herself. “He can’t possibly want to court me.”

“Who couldn’t possibly want to court you?”

Sophie shrieked and spun around.

Christopher stood in the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest, a knowing half-grin on his sculpted lips.

She pressed a hand to her racing heart. Had his mouth always been so very wickedly seductive? Sophie forcefully shoved aside such silly ponderings. “How do you manage to do that?”

Christopher advanced in the room as bold as if he owned the garish Red Parlor. “Do what?”

Sophie gave her head a shake. He’d always possessed a remarkable sense of hearing. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He came to a stop several feet from her and arched a single, black brow. “Aren’t you going to offer me a seat? Refreshments?”

She cocked her head. “Is that why you’ve come? For a social visit?”

He chuckled and without standing on gentlemanly ceremony, settled into the nearest sofa with his long legs, sprawled out in front of him. “What if I say I’d come for your company?”

Sophie snorted and crossed over to him. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Then I’d say you’d surely developed a fever, my lord.”

She gasped when he caught her hand in his. He raised her palm and studied the intersecting lines upon it with a singular intensity. “Wh-what are you d-doing?” she squeaked.

“Courting you?”

At the flinty edge to his words, she frowned and jerked her hand away. Yes, it was as she’d suspected. There was more to Christopher’s visit than any real desire for her company. The thought settled like a stone in her belly.

Sophie gave a flounce of her curls. “La, you’ll turn my head with such a sweet tone. If you used such charm with Emmaline then it’s no wonder she chose Lord Drake.”

His lips snapped into a firm, hard line but he said nothing.

A tendril of guilt snaked around her stomach. Taunting Christopher over Emmaline’s rejection of his suit was unpardonable. Even if he was an ill-mannered lout, he still didn’t deserve to be the victim of meanness.

To escape his frigid stare, she spun away and marched over to the window. She pulled back the brocaded curtains and peered down into the streets below. “I assume you are here at your father’s urging?”

His silence served as confirmation.

She dropped her brow against the sun-warmed windowpane. “You needn’t court me out of any sense of obligation.” She winced at thinking of his courtship that way. Sophie might not desire a match with him but it still chafed to admit that her one and only suitor was motivated by pity.

From the glass pane, Sophie observed the way Christopher drummed his fingers along the sides of his chair. “I came to apologize for last night, Phi.”

Sophie dropped the curtain back into place and spun back around to face him. Her mother and brother would hardly believe it…but Christopher had managed to render her speechless. Suddenly, she felt shamed by her earlier unkindness. “I…for what?” she blurted.

He met and held her gaze, penetrating her with the hot intensity of his eyes. “I abandoned you on the dance floor. It was unpardonable.” His frown grew. A dark look filled his eyes, then lifted so quickly, she wondered if she’d imagined it.