Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(45)

A small crowd converged upon them. Christopher cursed at the unwanted attention. He leaned close to Dennington, who whimpered like a wounded pup. “If you ever, and I mean ever, utter Miss Winters’ name, I swear I’ll do more than blacken your eyes. Is that clear? You aren’t even to greet the lady in passing.”

The whimpering dandy nodded so emphatically, he dislodged his beaver hat.

Christopher stormed off. This time, with more purpose in his step as he made the long trek to St. James’s Park, wishing, not for the first time, that he’d taken his mount.

Fury fed his movements. When Christopher had enlisted Mallen’s support, he’d never imagined his friend would do something so callous as to jeopardize Sophie’s reputation. Why, a walk through St. James’s may as well be tantamount to an offer for an unwed lady’s hand. Anything else was incomprehensible.

Not for the first time since he’d concocted the blasted scheme to thwart his father, the guilt churning inside of him threatened to boil over.

Sophie was a young, unwed lady. Mallen had been correct in his reservations…they both risked endangering her heart.

His stomach tightened and he picked up his pace, until he reached St. James’s Park. He paused and scanned the open land. Less crowded than Hyde Park, it would still be nigh impossible to single-handedly locate a specific person…in this case, two specific someones.

With a curse, Christopher resumed his search, finally admitting to himself that his walk had everything to do with Sophie. And Mallen.

Christopher gritted his teeth so hard, his jaw ached. He flexed it and continued on his course until he reached the walking trail that led to the central lake.

Mayhap the fool Dennington had been wrong about Mallen and Sophie. Mayhap they were in fact in Hyde Park. Mayhap…

He froze.

At the edge of the lake, stood a tall gentleman alongside a lush, blonde woman. The sunlight glinted off her crown of golden curls. Just then, a faint breeze rustled her pale yellow skirts. For an infinitesimal moment, the fabric clung to the young lady’s gently flared hips, highlighting her rounded buttocks. She looked up at the man beside her.

And all the air left Christopher.

Sophie?!

Christ. He squinted.

No. It couldn’t be.

He took a step closer, and another until her familiar face pulled into greater focus.

Except, it was.

When had Sophie developed into this winsome goddess? He staggered back a step.

Mallen tossed his head back and even with the distance between them, his laughter carried over to Christopher’s ears, the sound grating on every last one of his already frayed nerves. He didn’t care to analyze why he wanted to plant a facer on Mallen’s affable face and toss him into the lake. Or why he wanted to place an appropriate amount of space between Sophie and the bloody duke. Propriety aside, Christopher all but sprinted toward Sophie and Mallen.

A cry rent the otherwise quiet park. Christopher’s heart froze suspended in his chest, and then resumed beating a frantic rhythm as Sophie stumbled and pitched forward into the lake. Christopher picked up his pace, tugging his jacket free as he ran. He reached the side of the shore just as Mallen waded in and fished Sophie’s damp figure from the shallow depths.

The moist material clung indecently to her voluptuous form, hugging every delectable curve of her body; a mocking reminder that gone was the girl who’d taunted him and in her place was this nymph who beckoned him.

“What in the blazes are you doing?” Christopher snapped, tossing the garment over her shoulders.

Sophie glanced up, her cornflower blue eyes went wide in her pale cheeks.

“Waxham,” Mallen greeted as casually as if they were meeting in a drawing room.

Christopher spared a single glance for Mallen, and then directed his attention back to Sophie. “Are you mad?” he hissed. “Do you know the scandal you’ve caused here?”

“Actually I do,” she said underneath her breath. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself.

Damn if she didn’t look fetching in his jacket.

“And you,” Christopher shot at Mallen, “a walk through St. James’s Park? Whatever were you thinking? No, you weren’t thinking,” Christopher said when Mallen opened his mouth to interject.

“I prefer St. James’s Park.” Mallen spoke with all the authority befitting his station as duke. In his world, he could go where he pleased without fear of censure.

Unlike Christopher, who’d spent the better part of his life living with the fear of being discovered as an idiot who couldn’t read a bloody sentence without giving himself a megrim. The reminder of his flaws only fueled his ire. “Are you trying to ruin the lady’s reputation?” he snapped.

Sophie covered a gasp with her fingers. “Christopher!”

Mallen’s brows dipped. “If you were anyone else, I’d call you out for such a charge.”

And if Christopher had been anyone else, he might have been intimidated by the other man’s frigid glare. Alas, this was Mallen. He’d known him back when he’d been putting toads in his sister’s teacups. It would take more than a glowering visage to unnerve Christopher.

Christopher returned his attention to Sophie. “Where is your maid?”

She lifted one shoulder in a little shrug. “I sent her for a walk.”