Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(40)

Her breath caught in her chest. Christopher understands. It was hard to fathom that they could connect on this score, especially considering the history of animosity between them.

“Are we the only ones to question Society’s norms?” she wondered aloud.

Christopher glanced to a point beyond her shoulder. “I believe your friend, Lady Emmaline, was not unlike either of us in that regard.”

Sophie tried to detect whether there was any trace of hurt or resentment to his statement. When Emmaline had severed her betrothal with the Marquess of Drake, Christopher had courted the Duke of Mallen’s only sister. At the time, Sophie had suspected Christopher’s interest had stemmed from his connection with the duke and the advantageous match Emmaline represented. Now, Sophie wondered if there had been more to Christopher’s pursuit of Emmaline.

“Did you love her?”

Her words seemed to jolt him. Her cheeks flamed with heat at the boldness of her question. She wanted to call the words back.

Yet she found, more than that, she wanted an answer.

His shoulders stiffened and he returned his gaze to Sophie’s. “I deeply admire Lady Emmaline. I always have.”

Sophie’s heart clenched at his honest admission. It shouldn’t hurt that Christopher held Emmaline in high-esteem when he’d always looked so unfavorably upon Sophie…and yet, it caused a sharp pang. It would be one thing if the young earl had tormented her and Emmaline over the years, but quite another if only Sophie had been the victim of his ill-regard. Never before had Sophie felt jealous of her only friend in the world. Just then, however, an overwhelming surge of hideous, green envy consumed Sophie.

“You’re quiet, Phi. That isn’t like you.”

Her toes curled in her slippers. No, she’d always been far too garrulous, saying all the wrong things. “I…I’m sorry you were hurt by Emmaline.” Surprisingly, she meant it.

Christopher’s expression grew pensive. “I care for Emmaline. I believe in part of that is because of my connection to Mallen, but part of that is who she is. I know my pride was hurt when she wed Drake. Beyond that, I do not believe there was any grand passion.”

Sophie’s heart lifted in the oddest way. “I am glad.”

He froze.

She felt heat slap her cheeks. “Uh, I mean, that is, I am glad you were not hurt by her marriage to Lord Drake,” she lied.

Christopher began to pace. She studied his long legged stride as he marched a back and forth path over the wood floor. He spun back to face her. “I didn’t want to court you, Phi.”

Her heart plummeted down somewhere around her toes. She dug deep for indignation but couldn’t battle past the humiliated pain. Even her three long years as a wallflower and being featured with regularity in Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet couldn’t come close to the sting of Christopher’s words.

I didn’t want to court you, Phi.

She wrinkled her brow.

Didn’t.

Not— I don’t want to court you.

But rather, didn’t.

Only a handful of letters, and yet they greatly changed the meaning of his words. It implied he wished to court her, now.

Her silence must have registered because Christopher approached her. His fingers brushed her jawline and he tipped her chin up. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he murmured.

“Thank you.”

Christopher stroked her cheek with the tip of his index finger.

A strand of midnight black hair fell across his eye. “For what?”

“For being honest with me.”

“Honesty is so important to you?” There was an earnestness to his tone.

“Of course. Isn’t it important to everyone?” Sophie reached up and shoved the lock back. Her finger brushed against his aquiline cheek and a jolt of heat slammed into her. His gaze fell to her lips. Christopher appeared transfixed. A man under some kind of spell and God help her…she felt the very same way.

“Miss Winters, you have a caller.”

She jerked her fingers back. In unison, Sophie and Christopher’s heads swung toward the doorway where the butler stood with a remote look on his wrinkled face.

Sophie placed several steps between herself and Christopher. “Uh,-thank you, Ralston.”

The Duke of Mallen entered the room. He bowed. “Miss Winters. I’ve come to claim you for our walk.”





Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet





In a great showing of disrespect to the distinguished hostesses of Almack’s, Miss S.W. arrived twenty minutes late to Almack’s Assembly Rooms and was turned away from the hall.


12

If one had told Sophie a mere fortnight ago that the Duke of Mallen would be escorting her along one of the many walking trails of St. James Park, she’d have accused them of madness.

Her glance strayed from the Duke of Mallen’s chiseled features to the gardens of flowers off in the distance. She expected she should feel elated at having garnered attention from the much sought after, very eligible, young duke. Why, every last lady from ten to one hundred and ten clamored for Mallen’s notice and here it was, bestowed, oddly enough upon her—plump, garrulous, incorrigible Sophie Winters.

All she could think of, however, was Christopher’s odd, yet honest visit. For days she’d believed his courtship had stemmed from his sense of familial obligation. Now, however, she wasn’t altogether sure.