Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(86)

The duke stole a sideways glance at her. “Will you forgive him?”

“It’s also impolite to ask a lady such personal questions.”

He chuckled “I’m allowed certain liberties as a duke. We’re here,” he said, before she could respond.

Mallen held the door open.

Christopher spun around, his eyes riveted to the place where Sophie’s fingers touched the duke’s arm. Her heart hammered at the realization that the duke had in fact been right. Christopher’s eyes radiated the fiery intensity of a man ready to storm the room and separate the duke’s hand from his person.

He seemed to remember himself, for he gave his head a shake. “Phi.” He bowed slightly.

She angled her head. Did he expect her to curtsy as though this was a normal social call? “Christopher.”

The door closing behind the duke as he took of his leave, dimly registered.

She and Christopher stared at each other a long while. His normally clean shaven cheeks reflected several days’ worth of beard. The thick, black strands of his hair pulled back were still damp, as though he’d just bathed. Considering what Emmaline had revealed, she suspected that to be the case.

He rocked on his heels. “I had hoped to come to you, Phi, with all the right words, words that would convince you to believe me and my love for you,” he said without preamble. “But words have always posed a problem for me, and so I come to you, humbled.” He took a step toward her. “I can tell you that until you walked out of my life, I’d never realized just how much I love you. How wholly you complete me. I can tell you that for two days since you left, I’ve tried to determine what I love most about you; your bold spirit.” He took another step closer. “Your brilliant sense of humor. Your love for that troublesome dog.”

Tears flooded Sophie’s eyes, and Christopher blurred before her.

“I loved you from the moment I met you. Do you remember when that was?”

“I was just a baby,” she whispered.

His lips twisted into a small smile. “You have me there. I referred to my recent courtship.”

“Well, that makes more sense,” she said softly. “When?”

“The night you pilfered my brandy, you stole my heart.”

She blinked, the wheels of her mind turning with infinite slowness. “I don’t drink brandy.”

Christopher walked over to the mahogany side table, and picked up two books. He handed one over to her.

Sophie took it. Delphine. Her heartbeat picked up its rhythm. Her gaze flew to his.

Wordlessly, he turned over a copy of Intrigue and Love.

“Impossible,” she whispered. She read the titles again.

“I lied from the moment I met you. You, my beautiful Athena, deserve someone who possesses your intelligence and love of reading. I loathe books, Phi. They remind me of all that is wrong with me. I’ve never read Intrigue and Love. I merely grabbed the nearest book. I’ve told you too many lies, but I’ve never lied about my love for you.”

Sophie clutched the books close to her chest. Her heart had realized what her eyes had not. “It was you,” she breathed.

“It was you,” he said. “I’ve known you your entire life, and yet, I couldn’t see that which was before me. How blind I’ve been. I’m here now, asking you to accept me as I am, with all my flaws and all my failings. I…”

The books tumbled from Sophie’s hands, and she hurled herself into Christopher’s arms. “Stop. Do not disparage yourself. Not on my account. Not on anyone’s account.” God, if his father was before them now, Sophie would have planted him a facer for the emotional scars he’d left upon his son.

He folded her in his arms. “I wronged you, Phi. You could have found any number of gentlemen more deserving than me—.”

“I don’t want any other gentleman,” she interrupted.

“Not even Mallen?”

She clasped his face between her hands. “I love you.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“Not even Mallen,” she said with a giggle.

He lowered his head so their lips were a mere breath apart. “Are you disappointed that I’m your Odysseus?”

“I’m only disappointed that you didn’t court me sooner.” She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him in the faintest meeting of lips. Sophie pulled back. “I love you,” she said again.

Christopher reached inside the front of his jacket. “I have something for you.” He pulled out an envelope and handed it to her.

“What is it?” she asked, accepting it from him.

“Open it.” He nodded to the envelope.

Sophie slid the tip of her nail under the seal and withdrew several sheets of paper and a copy of Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet. Her brow wrinkled as she skimmed the page.

She turned to the next. “Lady Ackerly is actually George Lamb? As in Emily Lamb, Lady Cowper’s brother?” One of Almack’s leading hostesses, Lady Cowper had earned a reputation for her kindness and magnanimous spirit. Her eyes shot to his.

“I paid a visit to the Lady Ackerly’s publisher on Fleet Street. It didn’t take much for me to ascertain Lady Ackerly’s identity.”

George Lamb, the playwright and journalist had been the source of her misery these three years. “Humph.” Sophie pursed her lips.