Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(8)

His silence seemed to register. She promptly closed her mouth.

How fascinating that his Athena should prefer this work. He thought back to what she’d said about her impending betrothal and wondered how much of her selection had to do with frustration over her limited freedom in choosing a husband.

She finally looked up at him. Intrigue and Love. “I’d hardly have taken you for a romantic.”

Christopher frowned. Bloody hell. He’d grabbed the closest book at hand and forced a grin. “Do you presume to know my interests so well after so little time, sweet Athena?” He thought of Lady Emmaline Fitzhugh; of how miserably he’d failed to woo her and granted that Athena might be right on that score. “Nor for that matter can Intrigue and Love be considered a romantic work.”

“It isn’t?” Athena frowned and glanced back down at it. “I suppose I should not make assumptions based off a title alone.” She held the copy back out to him.

Christopher accepted it and returned her volume over to her. He cleared his throat. “I’d imagine someone will be missing the both of us.” As loathe as he was to give up this blithe moment with his Athena, it would be disastrous to both of them if they were discovered here alone.

Athena nodded. She placed her copy back in its respective spot. “I feel as though it is wrong that we should say good-bye and never again see each other.” She made to take off her mask but Christopher set aside his book and took her fingers in his.

Propriety be damned. Masquerades were a time of forbidden kisses; a time when anything could happen. He turned them over and stared down at her soft palms. “I agree, sweet Athena. I don’t want to spoil this moment with revelations that will do neither of us any good.”

“So this is good-bye.”

It was. It had to be. For the both of them. When the masquerade ended, they would be forced to reenter the world of rigid expectations and arranged unions.

Devil that he was, Christopher wanted to steal one more moment, before his father ultimately forced his hand and he found himself wed to assuage a familial debt. Just so they knew that at one time there had been nothing but laughter, honesty, and freedom between them. “Meet me.”

Her eyes widened at the scandalous proposition. What he wouldn’t give for the room to be bathed in full light so he could make out the shade of her riveting eyes. “What?” she squeaked.

“On the last day of the Season, if you are not betrothed and I am, of course also free, meet me in Kensington Gardens.”

The words sounded foolhardy even to his own ears. There was nothing appropriate, wise, or necessary about his impulsive suggestion, but if he were to honor his father’s wishes…then he’d at least allow himself the excitement of pondering over his mystery Athena and one day learning her actual identity.

“Very well.” Athena leaned up, placed a kiss upon his cheek, and hurried across the room.

She’d just settled her fingers on the handle.

“Oh, and Athena?”

She turned back to face him.

“Thank you.”

She angled her head. “For what?”

For allowing me to forget. For making me smile. For the wisp of a dream that you represent.

Instead, he murmured, “Your company.”

Athena opened the door and fled.





Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet





While waiting in Viscount and Viscountess M’s receiving line, Miss S.W. dropped her fan upon the staircase. The Incomparable Lady D.H. stumbled upon the item and fell quite gracefully down the stairs.


3

Sophie squinted against the rays of sunlight that streamed through the dining room. Her stomach churned at the morning smells of smoked haddock, rice, boiled eggs, and a host of other scents. She wanted to bury her head in her hands and groan, but her brother, Geoffrey Alistair Winters, the Viscount Redbrooke, was seated across the table from her.

A black, glowering frown turned his lips.

He hadn’t said anything about her obviously foxed state last evening. Sophie had thought she’d been fortunate enough to have escaped his notice and that she’d be spared his censure.

Geoffrey waved over a servant. “Please serve my sister a heaping plate of kedgeree.”

The liveried servant rushed over with a plate piled with kedgeree and ham from the sideboard. He set it down in front of Sophie. Her throat worked convulsively. She raised her napkin to her lips and fought back a wave of nausea.

Her brother set aside his paper and leaned forward. “Is something the matter, sister?”

Bile surged to the back of her throat and she swallowed it back. “Nothing at all.” With the tip of her fork, she speared a piece of ham, and dangled it over the side of her chair. Her dog, Duke, a fawn-colored pug with a stripe of black down his back, stood and swallowed the ham whole. “Why do you ask?”

Geoffrey leaned back in the chair with a snort. He folded his arms across his chest and continued to study her. “You’re certain you are well?”

Sophie’s head and entire body ached as though she’d been dragged by her heels through London and tossed underneath a fast-moving carriage. The last thing she could formulate was a coherent thought. “I’m fine,” she said with a forced smile. She nibbled at a piece of warm, crusty bread. When her stomach roiled like a ship tossed about the sea, she dropped the remainder of bread to the floor.