Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(47)

Mallen chuckled and gave Sophie a slow wink that said he knew there’d been no accident there. They shared a smile.

“And for the love of Christ, stop winking at her,” Christopher bit out.

Mallen’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t wink at her before this.”

“You winked at her during Lord and Lady Cavendish’s ball.”

The lines in Mallen’s forehead deepened. “Did I?”

Christopher ticked it off on his fingers. “During your first set and a second time when you fetched her ratafia. This is now the third. Stop winking at her.”

Sophie started. What an odd thing for Christopher to note not once, not twice, but three times.

The sun dipped behind a cloud and she shivered, tugging Christopher’s too large jacket close.

His gaze snapped over to her. “You are cold, Sophie. Let me escort you home.”

Did she imagine the gentleness to his offer?

He held out his arm. Sophie hesitated a moment, torn. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and troubled the flesh, knowing with all the intuition of a lady who was written about regularly in Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet, that whatever decision she made just then, would be the wrong one.

She placed her fingertips in Christopher’s, and he guided them to the crook of his sleeve.

The Duke of Mallen cleared his throat. Her head whipped in his direction. “You needn’t go with the earl, Miss Winters. I’d be glad to see you home.” A thread of regret underlined his gallant offer.

She gave a small smile. “Thank you, Your Grace. You’ve been gracious enough. I’m very sorry to have created such a scandal.”

He bowed. “Think nothing of it. I must say I don’t remember smiling quite this much.”

She laughed. “You are too kind.”

“If he was kind, he wouldn’t allow you to stand here catching your death of cold,” Christopher said, sounding more and more like a petulant child and less like the polished earl so respected by Society.

The duke directed a long, stern look toward Christopher who appeared immune to the duke’s displeasure.

Fearing the two gentlemen would come to blows right there in the middle of St. James’s Park, and Lady Ackerly would have one more bit of gossip to report in her scandal rags, Sophie gave Christopher’s sleeve a gentle squeeze.

The slight pressure seemed to pull him back to the moment. He shook his head. “Good day, Mallen.”

Sophie opened her mouth to make her good-byes, but Christopher propelled her forward. She looked over her shoulder to the duke and found him frozen at the lake’s edge wearing the most bemused expression. With a sigh, she returned her attention to Christopher.

“My maid…”

“Again, you should have considered your maid before you dismissed her.”

Sophie gritted her teeth at his high-handedness. “Must you be so contrary?”

His lips turned down at the corners. “Contrary?”

She slashed her free hand in the air. “I do not know how you’ve managed to convince the ton you are so affable when you are so…so…”

He raised a single black brow. “So?”

“Combative.” The word burst from her lips with a violent intensity and all the fight drained out of her.

Christopher halted so suddenly, she stumbled against him. Their hips collided, and her thigh brushed against his sculpted, muscular leg. In spite of her wet garments, a wave of heat radiated from where their bodies touched, and sent shivers of awareness racing along her spine.

She swallowed hard.

He tipped her chin upward, seemingly unaware of how attuned her body was to his every move. This time, there was no mistaking the gentleness in his hazel eyes. “I’ve been boorish, Phi. Forgive me.”

Under any circumstances, Christopher’s apology would have raised warning bells. Staring up at him, Sophie felt herself hopelessly lost in the specks of gold and green dotting his irises. He studied her with a singular intensity; the way a man might study an old familiar lover. The warmth inside spread to her belly and fanned out, filling her, consuming her.

She swallowed. Why, this was utter madness. This was…this was…Christopher.

“Phi?” he whispered.

The use of her childhood moniker should have grated. It always had. Only this time, it seemed to roll off his tongue like a silken endearment.

“Yes?” Her response came out as a breathy whisper.

His gaze roved a hot path over her face, lingering upon her lips and for one, long, hopeful moment she thought he might kiss her.

“If you do not remember the way to Miss Winters’ home, I can escort the lady,” the Duke of Mallen’s droll voice cut into their exchange.

It was as though Sophie was once again submerged beneath the surface of the lake. Christopher glared over his shoulder at the duke, and then with Sophie’s hand tucked in his elbow, continued walking.

Sophie struggled to keep up with the brisk pace he set for them. Her breath came out in little gasping puffs. “Slow down.”

“I’m trying to hasten our escape before we earn any further notice,” he muttered.

Still, Christopher slowed his step.

She sneaked a quick look at the passersby who continued to study her and Christopher. A small sigh escaped her. Once again she’d fulfilled his very low-expectations of her. “Your efforts are futile, Christopher.”