Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(52)

“Phi…”

She waved her hand. “You don’t have to say anything, Christopher. I know you are only here at your father’s edict.” That had once been true. “What is it? A sense of obligation to my father? A sense of guilt?”

The lie between them burned like bile in his throat. What would she say to the truth? In his own twisted attempt at self-preservation, he’d allow his father to turn him into a fortune-hunter for a dowry she didn’t even know she possessed.

“You don’t understand,” he said. Nor could she understand since he couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth.

Sophie’s lips scrunched up as though she attempted to solve a trying riddle. At last, she nodded. She gestured for him to sit.

He hesitated but took his seat, with Sophie following suit. She bent down and retrieved an item from the floor, placing a book upon the table.

His heart sped up. His mouth went dry.

He stood so suddenly he once again bumped into the table, sending the book falling to the floor.

“Christopher?”

“I have to go,” he said, his voice gruff to his own ears

God, how he loathed the written word. The constant reminder of his failings; a secret shame he carried.

He sketched a hasty bow and took his leave.

Sophie was too good for him or his father.





Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet





While attending the Countess of H’s house party, Miss S.W. was observed to be riding astride her mount in the early morning hours.


15

From where she sat amidst the other wallflowers, Sophie surveyed Lord and Lady Brackenridge’s ballroom. Lady Ackerly and the rest of the ton would believe she was searching out the Duke of Mallen.

Her gaze rested upon the dashing, young duke at the corner of the room. He lounged against a white marble pillar, a flute of champagne dangled between his long, elegant fingers. From where he stood, he caught her eye and grinned.

She returned his smile and then continued her search.

Lady Ackerly, like the rest of the ton, would be wrong.

Sophie had it on good authority from a kitchen maid who’d heard from Lady Brackenridge’s groom, who’d heard from the Marquess of Milford’s scullery maid that Christopher would be in attendance. Except she’d been counting the minutes and the minutes had become hours and he remained absent.

“I wonder who it is you’re searching for, Miss Winters?” The Duke of Mallen drawled.

Sophie shrieked, earning disapproving glances from the row of ladies at her side. That is until they noted the gentleman who stood before them. Then, they sat forward in their chairs, desperation and hope warring within their wide-eyed stares. Sophie hoped she’d conducted herself with a good deal more pride over the years than the other young ladies she now kept company with, though she wasn’t altogether sure of it.

She jumped to her feet and curtsied to the duke. “Your Grace.”

He leaned down. “You know, it hasn’t escaped my notice that you’ve ignored my question.”

“I was looking for my mother,” she lied.

The duke used his glass to motion toward the corner of the room. “Over by Lady Tisdale,” he said. “Directly across from you.”

“Humph. Imagine that. I didn’t even notice.”

“Apparently not.”

Sophie groaned. Mother studied Sophie and the duke with a rabid intensity. She wanted the ballroom floor to open up and swallow her whole.

“Should we wave to her?” he whispered close to her ear.

A snort of laughter escaped Sophie. She stifled it behind her hand. “She’s a bit obvious, no?”

“To say so would be ungentlemanly.”

“But truthful.”

The duke took another sip of champagne. “You value sincerity.”

Sophie wrinkled her brow. “Doesn’t everyone, Your Grace?”

“No. I rather think they do not. It isn’t the way of our world.”

Sophie looked around the crowded ballroom. Cynical though it was, there was merit to the duke’s statement. Their world was one of thinly veiled innuendos and craftily woven stories. Having become a victim of Lady Ackerly’s acerbic wit, Sophie had developed a greater sense of appreciation for honesty. “It matters to me, Your Grace. It matters a great deal.”

The usual glint in the duke’s eyes seemed to darken, though Sophie suspected it was merely the candlelight playing off their host and hostess’s chandelier responsible for the uncharacteristic response.

“Could you forgive a lie?”

She angled her head and studied him. “That’s a very cryptic question.” He continued to study her with that impenetrable look. “That would depend upon the lie,” she said.

“What about the reason for the lie?”

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t believe there are grounds that ever merit dishonesty, Your Grace.”

“That is very na?ve of you, Miss Winters.”

She smiled. “I prefer to think of it as possessing integrity.” And because she’d had enough of this too serious conversation, she said, “How is your sister?” Emmaline remained in Kent where she and Lord Drake awaited the birth of their first child.

Mallen’s body jerked at the mention of his sister. Sophie wrinkled her brow at the odd reaction.