Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(9)

Duke swallowed the offering in two large bites and yapped his pleasure.

“I’ve spoken to you about allowing that dog in in the dining room.”

Sophie reached down and scooped Duke up onto her lap. She buried her cheek against his coarse fur. “Do hush. You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“I do not care to discuss that miserable dog.”

“He isn’t miserable.” Sophie didn’t care what her brother thought of her dog. As if he’d understood his mistress’ defense, Duke licked her cheek.

Geoffrey frowned. “I’d like to discuss your marital state.”

She groaned and then winced as the sound threatened to split her skull in two. No! This was not the time for her to discuss marriage. She needed to be clear-minded and not battling the influence of too many spirits. Alas, her brother had neatly trapped her.

Sophie set her dog back onto the floor. He gave a final yelp and then waddled from the room. She sighed. Lucky little fellow. She shoved her untouched plate aside.

“I’ve been patient with you for three years,” Geoffrey said, jerking her attention back to the moment.

Yes, yes he had. Sophie folded her hands in her lap to conceal the manner in which they shook. Geoffrey had spoken about wedding her to Lord Carmichael if she didn’t make a match by her third Season. Lord Carmichael was as bald as a newborn babe with a paunch to rival Prinny. And he’d already had three wives to date. Sophie had no desire to be unfortunate number four.

“I don’t want to marry a man three decades my senior.”

“What about a man eight years your senior?”

Well, that seemed rather specific and all the more concerning for it.

“Who are we speaking about?”

Both her and Geoffrey’s gaze swiveled to the doorway where Mother stood, framed in the entrance.

Sophie sighed. The day had gone from bad to worse. Mother must have heard the word marriage mentioned and come running.

Geoffrey waved for her to sit down. “I’m speaking to Sophie about her marital prospects,” he said, as Mother settled into her seat.

Or lack of prospects, hence her brother’s humiliating need to interfere.

“I’m quite content—”

Geoffrey held up a hand. “As I was saying, I’ve been patient.”

“We’ve been patient,” Mother corrected. She leaned back in her chair with a humph.

Geoffrey continued. “I agree that Carmichael is too old a match for you.”

“You do?” Her brother never agreed with her on any score. Her breath left on an audible exhale but died at his next sentence.

“But that does not mean there aren’t entirely suitable gentlemen who would make you an excellent mate.”

Sophie grimaced. Her brother made it sound as romantic as a broodmare being paraded and inspected for her suitability. She tried to shove back the throbbing ache behind her eyes and focus on his words. Geoffrey clearly had a gentleman in mind for her. “Who?”

“He is a perfectly acceptable gentleman. He has a respectable stable of horseflesh.”

Yes, because that is what every young lady dreamed of. “Who?” she pressed.

“The Earl of Waxham.”

Surely she’d heard him wrong? A laugh burst from her throat. She winced immediately, regretting the explosion of mirth. Sophie pressed her fingers along her temple. “You jest. Christopher?” Christopher’s family estate in Kent bordered her family’s. “I’ve not spoken to Christopher since…” Her words trailed off, and she fell silent. Her mind wandered back to that long ago night when she’d come upon him reading in the Marquess of Milford’s stables. The night of the fire. From then on, he’d never spoken to her anything more than a passing greeting. It was as though he’d blamed her for the incident that had destroyed his father’s stables.

Geoffrey placed his elbows upon the table and leaned forward. “Since?” he pressed.

“It matters not. I won’t wed him.” Sophie tossed her head back. Nor, for that matter did she believe Christopher would want to wed her. As children they’d teased one another quite mercilessly. When Sophie had arrived in London, however, as a bright-eyed young lady, eager for her first Season, she’d imagined Christopher would set aside any childhood animosity and present himself as a friend, a familiar face, to help ease her entry into Society.

She’d learned all too quickly that the deeply admired Earl of Waxham had little intention of acknowledging her, or their familial connections. Instead, he’d seemed to go to great lengths to avoid her.

Which was entirely fine with Sophie. As she was considered a social oddity, Christopher’s flawless image amongst the ton had always grated on Sophie’s nerves. No young lady cared to be reminded of her imperfections.

Mother cleared her throat. “I assure you, Sophie, your brother and I are quite serious. Waxham would make you a splendid match.”

“No.”

Geoffrey frowned. “I don’t necessarily have to ask.”

“You act as though this is the feudal ages, Geoffrey. What next? Will you lock me in a tower if I disagree?”

Geoffrey’s brows lowered. “We don’t have a tower.”

Sophie’s eyes slid closed. She directed a prayer skyward in the hope of strength in dealing with her brother. She opened her eyes and held Geoffrey’s stare. “I was being facetious. I’ll not wed him.”