Sophie was very much of the opinion that there was little more inherently frightening than the unknown, and nothing altered the familiar into the unfamiliar quite so effectively as a pitch-black night. In shorter and less flattering terms, Sophie was afraid of the dark.
Very little was needed to keep that fear at bay—a single candle left burning, the light of a bright moon, or, as in this case, the well-kept streetlamps found in the neighborhoods inhabited by people of means. Any and all would suffice in making Sophie, if not comfortable, at least functional. Without them…she would be lost.
Five
Miss Everton, I am pleased to see you so well recovered.” Recovered, Alex thought, didn’t nearly do her justice. Miss Everton looked nothing short of delectable in her frothy pale blue gown, her thick sable hair pulled up into an intricate mass of curls that had him itching to slowly pull out the pins so he could watch each glossy lock unwind. His blood had heated the moment he caught sight of her standing off to the side of the ballroom with Mirabelle Browning. Apparently, Loudor had escorted his cousin inside and promptly abandoned her to attend to his cards, the cad.
Alex had intended to approach both women, but the sound of Mirabelle’s delighted laughter had given him a better idea. Skirting along the edge of the room, he had stepped unseen into a small alcove and shamelessly eavesdropped on their conversation. Within minutes Alex had realized that his original, and begrudging, resolution to charm Miss Everton in the usual manner of pretty flowers and flowery words would have been useless. She would have been bored to tears.
He had only partially overheard the tale she related to Mirabelle, but Alex was fairly certain it involved wine, a suitor, and an angry herd of elephants.
Miss Everton, it seemed, liked danger.
He had waited for Mirabelle to leave before approaching Miss Everton with something akin to actual anticipation.
Dangerous was something he could do.
“Your Grace, thank you. I’ve quite mended, as you can see.”
Sophie was surprised and relieved when she managed to squeak out an entire sentence. The man had literally appeared out of nowhere. One moment she’d been watching her new acquaintance, Miss Browning, be escorted onto the dance floor and the next thing she knew, the duke was standing at her side looking remarkably like an oversized panther.
His dress black was a bit more severe than some of the other gentlemen present, but it suited him. It suited him very well. The color contrasted sharply with his eyes, which, she noticed quickly, were definitely green and brought out the faintest hint of auburn in his hair. The fabric fit perfectly across his broad shoulders, around his lean waist, and the breeches outlined his muscled thighs…almost indecently so, and…
Good Lord, had she just looked at his thighs?
Had he seen her look at his thighs?
Sophie felt her stomach do an agonizingly slow descent to her toes while all the blood in her body crept steadily toward her cheeks. How mortifying. To hide her embarrassment, she curtsied. To save her pride, she forced herself to meet his gaze when she straightened.
“I am very pleased to see you again, of course,” she managed with a credibly even voice. “I’ve been anxious to thank you properly for your assistance earlier this week, and Lord Thurston’s as well. I fear I made a mess of it the first time.”
“It was a pleasure,” Alex replied. Good Lord, she’d just looked him over. Miss Everton had just given him a visual appraisal with all the brashness of an houri, and all the finesse of a schoolroom chit. Fascinating.
“You’re very kind, I’m sure,” she mumbled.
Alex leaned against a nearby pillar and crossed his legs casually at the ankles. “Bored already, Miss Everton?” he asked, looking pointedly at her waist where her fingers were busily working at the folds of her skirt.
She looked down and winced before quickly fisting her hands behind her back. “Sorry, it’s a bad habit, I’m afraid. I didn’t—”
“Please, don’t trouble yourself,” he insisted. “And call me Alex.”
Sophie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I couldn’t. I can’t. We’ve only just met.”
“Nonsense, we’ve known each other for almost a week.”
Her stance relaxed notably at his teasing tone. “We’ve known of each other for a total of four days,” she said dryly. “That hardly qualifies as a long-term affiliation.”
Alex shrugged. “People have wed with less.”
“I don’t doubt the truth of that, just the advisability.”
“I don’t know,” Alex replied thoughtfully. “I rather like knowing I could haul you off to the altar should I so desire. There’s a certain power in having had you in a compromising position.”
She gaped at him for a moment before finding her voice. “There was nothing compromising about it!”
“You were in my arms,” he replied with a wicked grin.
“I was injured!” she hissed. “Rather seriously!”
He grinned broader and leaned closer. “You were also in my lap.”