Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(41)

“How very odd to see horses flying through Hyde Park.”

A gentle spring breeze kissed her skin and freed a lone curl from the intricate coif arranged by her maid. She tucked the strand back behind her ear.

“Hm-mm,” Sophie murmured. The strand came loose yet again and fell across her eye. The Duke of Mallen shot her a sideways glance. A half-grin tugged at his lips.

“And my, if that isn’t Lady Jersey dueling with Lord Applesbey in the middle of the walking path,” he said.

The duke was amicable. Abundantly charming. So why, at this moment, was she thinking about Christopher?

“Is she?”

Mallen gave a solemn nod. “Oh, yes. And if that isn’t Lady Caro cheering on Lord Applesbey.”

His words, finally registered. Sophie came up short and looked around.

“Ahh, I see I’ve at last secured your attention.”

Sophie winced. “My apologies, Your Grace. I’m afraid my mind wandered.”

“Did it?” he drawled.

“It did,” she confessed, until she realized he was being glib.

Sophie sighed. This wasn’t going well at all. Oh, if her mother and Geoffrey learned she’d insulted the duke on an outing, well then they’d probably see her wed old, lecherous Carmichael as penance for her ill-behavior.

“Forgive me,” she said.

He inclined his head. “No apologies are necessary, Miss Winters.”

“You are too gracious, Your Grace. I’ve been unpardonably rude.”

His smile broadened. “I must admit, I’m not accustomed to being ignored.”

“How very humble of you, Your Grace.” The words slipped past her lips and it was entirely too late to call them back. She groaned, the sound swallowed by the duke’s booming laugh.

“I say, I don’t remember when I’ve enjoyed myself this much,” he confessed after his laugh had faded to a small chuckle.

Sophie grimaced. “Really, Your Grace? If this is your idea of enjoyment, then you’ve been remarkably deprived.”

He inclined his head, his expression growing somber. “You know, we dukes aren’t ones to be freely entitled to anything light-hearted. Early on, we learn to be strict, somber, and stoic.”

Mallen softened those words with a smile but he clearly spoke with an element of sincerity underlining his admission. As long as she’d known Emmaline, Sophie had marveled at the freedoms enjoyed by the Duke of Mallen and his family. Only now did she realize that with his title came far greater limitations than she’d imagined of them.

“You’ve turned all serious on me, Miss Winters.”

“I feel badly for you.”

He turned to face her, a question in his emerald green eyes. “No man likes to be the recipient of pity,” he said.

“Nor any woman,” she added.

He nodded. “But then, I was not the one pitying you, Miss Winters.” His gentle reproach caused her to sigh.

She was making quite a bumble of this whole outing with the young duke. “Forgive me.” And because he deserved clarification, she continued. “It is not that I pity you, but rather your status.”

The gaze he passed over her face grew more pensive. He urged her forward and they resumed walking. “I swear you are the only woman in the entire realm to speak unfavorably upon my title.”

Sophie waved her hand. “Oh, it is not that I look unfavorably upon it. I just imagine that it is…well, difficult, to go through life under such close scrutiny, desired for your position.”

“Well,” he muttered.

“I’m doing a rather poor job of explaining myself.” It didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t disagree. Sophie felt remarkably sure that this would be her last visit from the duke. “I understand to some extent what it is like to be closely scrutinized.”

“This Lady Ackerly person you speak of so often?” he supplied.

She nodded. “Yes. Lady Ackerly reports almost daily about my missteps and flaws. It garners the fleeting interest of the ton that sees me as an amusing diversion…but there are no stringent expectations placed upon me. To Society I’m merely Miss Sophie Winters, an incorrigible miss. But you,” she looked at him, and his gaze held hers. “You, Your Grace are expected to be above reproach and you do so admirably. I, on the other hand would fail miserably if I were to possess such a distinguished title as yours.”

The duke took her hand. He gave it a firm, but gentle squeeze. “You do yourself a disservice, Miss Winters.”

The duke hadn’t strung together anything more than the most polite utterances in the three years she’d known him, and now he defended her character. He possessed a gallantry that would melt any debutante’s heart. Why, she wasn’t a debutante and his quietly spoken assurance warmed her through.

“Thank you, Your Grace, but I know what I am.”

The duke raised a brow once more. “Oh, and what is that?”

She gave a little shrug. “I am incorrigible. I say the wrong things. I somehow manage to find myself in scrape after scrape. I have a love of all pastries.”

Mallen said nothing for a long moment. When he spoke, his words came out almost introspectively. “Do you know, I find I rather prefer that about you, Miss Winters?”

“My love of pastries?”