Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(58)

His chest tightened. It would have been the height of foolishness to have expected a different outcome. “Did we?”

Mallen’s eyes narrowed into thin, dark slits. “Imagine my surprise to learn the Earl Waxham, so above reproach compromised Miss Winters.”

A dull flush worked its way up Christopher’s neck. He tugged on his suddenly too tight cravat. He’d come to expect stern disapproval from his father—but never Mallen. Mallen had been the one person to stand alongside him through all the darkest points in his life; the death of his mother, the cruelty of his father, the years of shame he’d known as a student.

Mallen couldn’t possibly hate Christopher any more than Christopher hated himself. He swiped a hand over his brow. “It’s been a long evening, Mallen.” He shot a pointed look over to the doorway.

Mallen folded his arms across his broad chest, wearing his go-to-hell-expression.

“I’m not in the mood to discuss this with you, Mallen.”

Mallen stepped deeper into the room “Oh, I’m sure.” The caustic bite to his tone threatened to singe Christopher where he stood. “Tell me this. Were you or weren’t you discovered kissing Sophie Winters?”

He shifted as the wave of guilt grew. He couldn’t bring himself to respond to the question. Sophie deserved more than Christopher gossiping about her to Mallen.

Mallen stormed across the room. He dragged Christopher up by the lapels of his jacket. “I’ll ask you one more time. Did. You. Kiss. Her?”

Christopher held his hard stare. “You seem very concerned about Miss Winters.”

His friend tightened his hold on him, his black glower darkening. “This is not any young lady, Waxham. This is Sophie Winters. She is my sister’s dearest friend.”

Christopher inclined his head, as his friend’s reaction began to make more sense. “So this late visit stems from your sister’s relationship with Miss Winters?” He didn’t allow Mallen to respond. “Rest assured, Mallen, I intend to do right by the young lady. I plan to visit Redbrooke first thing in the morning and offer marriage.”

Mallen released him with such lightning speed that Christopher stumbled against the desk. The young duke spun away from Christopher, presenting him with his back. “Why did you invite me into your scheme? Why, if you intended to offer for the lady anyway? Why, Waxham?” There was an aged weariness to Mallen’s tone; of the like Christopher had never before heard from the other man.

Christopher cleared his throat. The rest of Society could go to hell…but Mallen’s opinion mattered a great deal to him. “It wasn’t intentional. It was…” His words died on a breath of air. “Christ.”

His friend turned back to face him, a frown on his lips. “What?”

The realization sank like a stone in Christopher’s belly. It churned and twisted until he thought he might be ill. This was incomprehensible. Inconceivable.

“You’ve grown to care for her.” He wanted Mallen to deny it; wanted him to laugh at the preposterousness of it all. According to Lady Ackerly’s reporting on Sophie, she’d had only a handful of dances, two walks in Hyde Park, and several visits from the distinguished peer.

Then, with Sophie, it didn’t take much more than that.

Mallen looked away.

And Christopher had his answer. He raked a hand through his hair. “Mallen—”

“Shut the hell up,” Mallen snapped.

“I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

Mallen’s upper lip pulled back in a sneer. “Come now. You’ve never thought this all through. I warned you that you played a dangerous game with the young lady.”

Only neither of them had considered that Sophie’s heart wasn’t the only organ to be endangered by Christopher’s scheming.

“You needn’t have agreed to help me,” Christopher said.

The left-handed jab spun Christopher around and knocked him to the floor. A momentary black haze clouded his vision. Christ, Gentleman Jackson would have been proud of such a punch. He pressed a hand to his bleeding nose and peered up at Mallen. “I deserved that,” he said around blood-smattered fingers.

Mallen towered over him, chest heaving. “Miss Winters is entirely too good for you. She’s entirely too good for either of us.”

“You are right,” Christopher said. Christopher had thought the very same thing more times than he could count on his two hands. “Regardless, I’ve come to care for her.”

His friend passed a hard, probing stare over Christopher’s face. “Do you love her?”

Christopher started. Did he love Sophie? He’d come to care for her in the past weeks. He desired her. He enjoyed her company. But love? “Love isn’t required.”

Mallen’s upper lip pulled back in a sneer. “Why don’t you tell that to Miss Winters?”

“I’m sorry you’ve been hurt, Mallen. That was never my intention. Will you stand up with me when I marry her?”

His friend made a crude gesture with his hand. “Go to hell, Waxham.”

With a final, black look he stepped over Christopher’s prostate form and left him alone to confront the reality of what he’d done.

His friend had been closer to the mark than he possibly knew. There was a special place in hell reserved for Christopher and his father.