Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(34)

The servant’s eyebrows knitted into a single line. “I’ll see if he’s receiving guests.”

He didn’t need the butler to point out that it was hardly the thing to storm another man’s home at nearly two o’clock in the morning. Christopher folded his arms behind his back and paced the white, Italian marble floor.

He supposed he should have spoken with Mallen many hours ago. Only, earlier that evening Christopher had gone to White’s and convinced himself that he hadn’t cared about Mallen’s unexpected visit with Sophie. Somewhere around eight o’clock that evening he’d begun to think about the duke reading to her from that ridiculous book of sonnets. And around nine o’clock he’d considered Sophie’s infatuated response to the young duke. By 11 o’clock he’d convinced himself yet again that it didn’t matter to him if Mallen courted Sophie with more vigor than Christopher had required. Two minutes after 11 o’clock he’d realized he was a bloody liar.

Upon that staggering realization, he’d continued to drink until…he pulled out his watch fob, and squinted to bring the numbers into focus. He stuffed it back inside his jacket.

It really didn’t matter.

He was bloody soused.

“Waxham,” a voice drawled.

Christopher spun around. His gaze climbed up the staircase, where Mallen stood looking bloody impeccable in his black evening attire.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected late evening visit?” There was a faint hint of censure in Mallen’s words.

Christopher started up the stairs. “I’m here to speak with you, Mallen,” he said, when he reached Mallen.

The duke wrinkled his nose. “Have you been drinking?”

“A little.” A lot.

Mallen motioned for Christopher to accompany him. He didn’t wait to see if Christopher followed suit but then, when one was a duke, people did as you bid.

They entered the duke’s office. Mallen closed the door behind them and walked over to his desk. He folded his arms across his chest. “What is this about?”

“Not what, but who, Mallen. I’m here regarding Miss Winters.”

The duke’s arms fell to his side. His brow furrowed. “Miss Winters?”

Christopher tapped a hand alongside his thigh. “I wanted to speak to you about your visit this afternoon.”

Mallen propped a hip on the edge of his desk. He tipped his chin in the direction of the leather winged-back chair closest to him. “Why don’t you sit, Waxham? Can I offer you a brandy? Though,” he arched a single brow, “with the amount of spirits you’ve consumed thus far today, you probably could do without further drink.”

Christopher blamed the sudden urge to bloody Mallen’s nose on his inebriated state. He shook his head. “I don’t want to sit. I came to address your visit with Miss Winters.”

Mallen looked down the bridge of his aquiline nose. “Oh? Is there a problem?”

As Christopher saw it, there were any number of problems. In fact, since that afternoon, he’d compiled quite a list. Only now, all those reasons, with the exception of one, seemed to escape him. “I asked you to court her.”

His friend crossed his legs at the ankles. “And that is what I am doing.”

“You did it with too much…too much…”

Mallen’s brows lowered. “Too much?”

“Seriousness!” The word exploded from Christopher’s chest. He spun on his heel and began to pace the floor. “Sophie is too impressionable. If you insist on reading poetry and bringing flowers,” he shook his head, “well, there is no saying the damaging effects it could have.” He spun back around to face his friend.

Mallen said nothing for a long while. Then, he shoved himself from the desk and walked over to the decanters of spirits in the corner of the room. He poured himself a glass of brandy, took a long swallow, and cradled the glass in his hand. “Do you want to wed the lady?” he asked bluntly.

Christopher stumbled to a halt. “God no.”

“Your ultimate goal is thwarting your father’s plans for you and Miss Winters, correct?”

Yes, that was the case. His head throbbed. Or, Christopher thought it had been…until today. Today, he’d detected the infatuated gleam in Sophie’s eyes, her unspoken yearning for a real courtship, and the tendrils of guilt in his belly had fanned out and filled him.

There had also been a niggling of something deep and dark that he didn’t recognize. Something green and ugly that had festered inside him the moment Sophie’s bow-shaped lips had tipped up in a smile for Mallen. An emotion that felt like…jealousy.

Christopher shook his head. Foolish thoughts.

“Waxham?”

“I’m fine,” Christopher said.

“That’s not what I asked.”

It wasn’t?

“Oh.” He blinked. “What then?”

“I had asked whether your goal was to thwart your father’s plans for you and Miss Winters.”

“Yes.”

“Then, a thank you shall suffice.” Mallen took another sip and then set his glass down. “Trust I know what I’m doing.”

Christopher had been forced to defer to his father’s judgment and decisions since he was a young boy. He’d not cede control over to Mallen. There was a difference in enlisting the duke’s support and quite another to turn the scheme blindly over to him.