Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(43)

He neatly steered the discussion back to the topic of the earl.“I’d wanted Waxham to make a match with my sister.”

The moment Emmaline had severed her age-old betrothal to the Marquess of Drake, Christopher had launched his courtship. At the time, Sophie couldn’t have imagined a more disastrous match for her friend, or any lady, than Lord Waxham.

Now, she acknowledged that Christopher wasn’t a poor prospect. In fact, he might make the right young lady a dashing husband. As Society’s incorrigible miss, Sophie would never fit that role.

“He did not have an easy time of it as a child.”

Again, the duke’s words tugged at Sophie’s heartstrings. “You had said he was lonely at school…”

Sebastian shook his head. “Not simply at school. His mother died when he was quite young. All rather tragic.”

Sophie had only been a mere babe of three and therefore, the details of that time in Christopher’s life escaped her. She knew the young marchioness had died in a carriage accident on her way to a soiree.

“He was just turned eleven,” the duke supplied.

The well of sadness within her breast filled and threatened to spill over. Odd how she’d never considered how the loss of his mother had affected Christopher. Sophie’s father had died several years ago and the pain of that, well it would never go away. It still snuck upon her at the most unexpected times and robbed her of whatever happiness she felt in the moment. “How hard that must have been for him,” she said quietly.

The duke nodded. “I’ll not speak ill of the marquess, but being Lord Milford’s son was not easy for Waxham.”

As a frequent victim of the marquess’ condescension, she’d always wondered at his friendship to her loving, gentle father. Lord Milford’s lip seemed perpetually pulled back in a sneer whenever she was near. For all the times her brother had driven her to madness with his teasing, and for all her mother’s disappointment in Sophie’s attempts at making a match, Sophie had never doubted their love.

Sophie wandered to the edge of the lake and stared out. She could not imagine what Christopher’s life must have been like as the only child of such a mean, miserable man. How very lonely he must have been. Guilt ate at her for never having considered Christopher’s circumstances—until now.

Pebbles and gravel crunched loudly under the duke’s boots and he stopped alongside her. She looked up at him.

And because she should respond in some way to his earlier statement about the marquess, Sophie said, “The marquess isn’t the most good-natured gentleman.”

Mallen’s lips flattened into a hard line. “The day Waxham learned of his mother’s death, his father slapped him for crying.” A muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth. “He said it was unbecoming to show such emotion, even for one’s mother.”

Sophie gasped. “That’s horrid.”

Mallen nodded. “His father’s derision only became worse after the stable fire. He blamed Waxham for the blaze.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Sophie recalled that night. She had come upon him reading in the stables, and had mocked him for reading to the horses. Shame filled every corner of her person.

“From that point on, Christopher seemed to care a great deal about the tons perception of him. He strove for complete amicability; always a grin and kind word.”

“The Christopher you describe is vastly different than the one I have known over the years,” she whispered.

“Why do you think Waxham is so very different with you, Miss Winters?”

She lifted one shoulder in a little shrug, suddenly very uncomfortable with this intimate conversation about Christopher. “I’m not altogether sure.” Mayhap he blamed her for the fire that had ravaged his beloved horses. Her heart ached.

“Perhaps you know Waxham better than most and he isn’t comfortable with that.”

“That’s preposterous,” she said.

He lifted a brow. “Is it? Waxham has attained a respectable position amidst Society. He is quite admired. That is, by everyone with the exception of you and his father.”

Sophie shifted, not altogether comfortable with being placed in the same category as the marquess, especially considering the duke’s latest revelation about the abhorrent father. “Might I speak freely, Your Grace?”

“Please.”

“As you know, I have a reputation vastly different than Lord Waxham. I somehow manage to say and do the wrong things. I always have. He took great delight in pointing that out over the years. It was, therefore, hard for me to develop the same impression of Christopher that you, and others have of him.” She glanced down at her hands. “I’m humbled to admit that some of my earlier actions merited his contempt.”

“You were a child, Miss Winters,” he said, gently.

“A horrid one,” she mumbled beneath her breath.

His lips twitched. “I’m trying to imagine you as a small child.”

“Oh, you mustn’t do that,” she said with an emphatic shake of her head. She dislodged a curl. “I was an utter disaster.”

“Were you?” The duke looked at her with a sparkle in his emerald eyes.

“My mother despaired of me ever becoming a proper lady.”