It was a draw as to who was more relieved when the curtains closed for intermission. Alex escorted her out of the box for some refreshments and fresh air. She felt better immediately.
“Will you be attending the Wycotts’ musicale next Friday?” Alex asked casually, after escorting her out of the box and fetching her a glass of lemonade.
“I believe we’ve another engagement—the Patton ball,” she responded. “It’s the Wycotts themselves performing, isn’t it? Kate says they’re rather good.”
“Kate would know, she has a gift for music. Have you had a chance to hear her play the pianoforte yet?”
Sophie shook her head and took a sip of her overly tart lemonade, not because she was thirsty, but because it gave her something to do.
“Next time you see her, you really must insist. She is a wonder.”
“I’ll make a point of it,” Sophie mumbled. She had never been anything less than completely inept at the pianoforte. And the harp. And the flute. Was that the sort of women Alex preferred? Perfect ladies who played a musical instrument and took up watercolors? Not that it was any of her concern. Really.
“Do you play?” he inquired.
Oh, of course he would ask.
“Er…no, I’m afraid I lack the talent,” she admitted.
“Thank God.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m relieved to hear that you lack the talent and therefore do not play. There are too many young ladies of my acquaintance who seem incapable of grasping that the latter should be employed once the former is recognized.”
Sophie laughed, once more sliding into a more comfortable ease at his teasing tone. “Surely, it is not just the young ladies who exhibit this flawed reasoning.”
“As concerns my experience with the pianoforte, yes,” Alex stated. “Men have their own unique set of vices.”
“Oh, and what might those be?”
“The usual…horses, cards, drink and,” he gave her a wicked little grin, “women of course.”
“Of course,” Sophie said, or squeaked really, if one wanted to be annoyingly precise about it. So much for feeling at ease, and so much for his gentlemanly behavior. She wished Mrs. Summers hadn’t insisted on staying in the box. For the life of her, Sophie could not understand why Alex’s plain speaking should make her so uncomfortable. Generally, she preferred an open dialogue between friends and yet, whenever Alex spoke to her in a way that would send most young debutantes screaming to their mama’s side, Sophie couldn’t help but feel, for some unaccountable reason, a little disappointed.
Alex laughed at her expression.
“What’s so amusing, Your Grace?”
“It’s Alex, as well you know, and you, my dear Sophie, are very amusing. Or rather I should say, intriguing.”
“Oh?”
“Fishing for compliments, are we?”
“I have no idea what you’re doing, besides aggravating me, but I am trying to understand what the devil you’re laughing at.”
“Your language for one thing,” he chuckled. “Tsk, tsk, my dear, what if someone hears you? People are looking, you know.”
“Likely there are one or two ladies in the crowd who would be tempted to applaud, given that I’m swearing at you.”
“Oh now, more than two surely. My reputation as a rake is more impressive than that.”
She raised two mocking eyebrows. “You just tsked at me. I have serious doubts concerning your claim to rakedom.”
“I could rid you of those doubts if you like,” he said softly.
She downed the rest of her lemonade in two large gulps and handed him the empty glass. “That is generous of you, I’m sure, but I think it’s time you returned me to my chaperone.”
“Are you certain?” He let his hand linger over hers when he took the glass and he watched, enthralled, when she bit her bottom lip nervously. “I can be very persuasive when I set my mind to it, and I promise you’d enjoy the debate.”
He was practically purring at her and, God help her, she was more than a little tempted to take him up on his offer. She didn’t have a problem with kissing a man out of wedlock, not in theory. And she certainly wasn’t adverse to the idea of kissing a very attractive man. It was one of a dozen new experiences she had hoped to enjoy while visiting London.
She just didn’t want to kiss him.
She wasn’t entirely certain why that was. Her body was plainly enthusiastic about the idea. But she had the unsettling suspicion that Alex would view a kiss with her as something other than what she intended it to be. As if he had captured a prize. To Alex, it would signify a battle won, a challenge conquered, and the thought made her a little sick at heart. Enough so that she was able to squash the rising rebellion in that part of her brain that demanded she sneak off behind the nearest potted palm and listen to his argument, and instead, meet his laughing eyes squarely.
“My chaperone, if you please,” she insisted smartly.