Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(31)

Sophie walked back over to him and claimed the vacant King Louis chair nearest his seat. She folded her hands in her lap and studied the interlocked digits. “The next thing you’ll have me believe is that you’d consider marriage to me.”

She suspected that if he hadn’t been sitting, her statement would have knocked him over. He grimaced. “Egads, no.”

Her brows dipped. Oh, the lout. “Say what you’ve come to say and be done with it, Christopher.”

“I came to see if you were the same girl I remembered.”

“And?” Her breath caught as she awaited his response. It shouldn’t matter what Christopher thought of her, and yet, oddly, she wanted him to approve of the woman she’d grown into.

He passed an assessing gaze over her figure. His eyes lingered overly long on her embarrassingly plump décolletage. A flush heated her skin. Oh, why couldn’t she possess the trim, gentle figure favored by the ton?

“No, you aren’t.” And when he said it in that husky whisper, her rounded curves didn’t seem like such a bad thing, after all. “But nonetheless…you seem to be the same, impertinent, cheeky chit who tormented me during my younger years. Lady Ackerly keeps quite a reporting on your escapades.”

Sophie clenched her jaw so hard, her teeth rattled. She pressed her fingers along the line of her temple and rubbed. Bloody Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet. If Sophie found out the identity of the woman, why, she swore she’d do more than destroy the hem of her gown or set the unknown harridan’s table aflame. The scandal sheets had become the bane of Sophie’s existence. It had fueled Geoffrey and Mother’s impatience with her marital state and scandalous actions, as Lady Ackerly titled them.

Christopher continued. “Lady Ackerly also indicated—”

“Tsk, tsk. Never tell me you’ve come to rely on scandal rags as a reliable source of your information.”

He sat up in his chair. “Hardly. Still, it is my understanding that there is in fact some truth to the information reported.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true.”

He grinned. “You didn’t shoot an arrow through Lord Avondale’s thigh?”

She felt a sting of heat slap her cheeks. “It was hardly my fault that he ran out to inspect his arrow’s position when it was my turn to shoot.”

Yes, that story had found its way into the scandal sheets. The gossips had devoured that tasty morsel much the way Duke did Cook’s hambone.

Sophie was convinced that particular incident had been the final impetus her brother needed to see her wed to whomever he could manage to pass her off to.

She looked to Christopher. Mother and Geoffrey believed him that man. That is, if she couldn’t snare the attention of a duke.

Sophie sighed. “You are here to court me. Well, let’s get on with it, then.”

Christopher blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

“Yes, a courtship by you should begin with an apology, but let’s get on with it.”

“Get on with what?”

Sophie dashed a hand across her eyes. When she removed it, she found him studying her with an inscrutable expression. “You indicated you were here to court me. My brother would be amiable to a union between us.” She motioned to the book she’d dropped earlier. “Will you read me sonnets?”

Christopher’s cheeks went a ruddy shade of red. He tugged at his cravat. “Don’t be foolish.”

Sophie wagged a finger at him. “You mustn’t call the young lady you are courting foolish. That will earn you no one’s affection. A walk in the park?” she asked, interrupting him before he could respond to her previous statement.

“I’d say after you and your dog’s recent escapades at the park, we should avoid that particular location.”

She bristled at the dry humor in his tone. “Well then, why don’t you tell me how you intend to court me?”

He leveled himself upright in his chair. “I am visiting, aren’t I?”

Sophie pointed her eyes to the ceiling. “That does not a courtship make.”

“Oh, and why don’t you enlighten me, Phi?”

A knock sounded at the door.

Sophie and Christopher’s gazes swung toward the front of the room. The butler stood framed in the entranceway with a silver tray.

“You’ve a visitor, Miss Winters.”

“I do?”

“She does?”

She glared at Christopher, resenting the shock in his question.

As if on cue, the Duke of Mallen materialized behind the butler.

“The Duke of Mallen to see you, Miss Winters.”

Sophie’s mouth fell open. “Whatever are you doing here?” The words escaped before she could call them back. She clamped her fingers over her lips.

The duke grinned and held out a bouquet of pink roses interspersed with yellow freesia and ivy. “I’ve brought flowers.”

Her heart sped up. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d proffered a fistful of weeds or blooms from a hothouse. They would have been glorious for what they represented. No man had ever before brought her flowers.

Christopher muttered something under his breath, diverting her attention away from the duke.

She glanced over at Christopher with a small smile. “That is how you court a lady,” she whispered for his ears alone.