Whit made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh and then finished cramming the eggs into his mouth.
Alex eyed his own plate with disinterest. He really wasn’t hungry anymore. He had woken Whit at the ungodly hour of eight this morning and bribed him into coming to White’s with the promise of a free breakfast and the loan of his matched grays. Whit was his oldest and most loyal friend, and would probably have agreed to accompany Alex without the extra incentives, but Alex had been unwilling to take the chance. He was that desperate for advice. Now, watching his friend alternately chuckling and wolfing down his breakfast, Alex was left to wonder why he had taken the time to bother.
Clearly, Whit was not going to be of any help.
“What ever made you do it?” Whit asked, stabbing a piece of ham.
“I’ve been asking myself that for the last eight hours.” Actually, he had asked himself that very question three times a minute, every minute, for the last eight hours.
“And?” Whit prompted, popping the ham into his mouth.
Alex groaned and set down his fork in disgust. “And I do believe I’ve come unhinged.”
Whit bobbed his head agreeably and kept on eating.
Alex really wished he hadn’t offered his grays. “I can only hope it’s not a lasting affliction,” he grumbled.
“Or catching,” Whit added, then shrugged. He swallowed and said, “Flowers, candy, and an explanation would be a damned sight better than, ‘it was the situation.’ Also, I’d advise you to seriously consider groveling. The sooner the better.”
“I’m certain you would.”
“Why don’t you call on Sophie this afternoon? No use letting the problem fester. I’ll come along, for moral support, of course.” Whit grabbed a scone and then by some means unholy, managed a truly evil smirk with a mouthful of food.
Alex briefly entertained the idea of pummeling his friend, but the man had just inhaled an entire plate of eggs and ham. The resulting mess wouldn’t be worth the satisfaction.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Alex snapped. He dropped his napkin on the table and stood. “Not one minute sooner.”
Whit gave him a jaunty one-fork salute and kept chewing. Alex glared, reconsidered the pummeling, then settled for a single vulgar epitaph and left.
Sophie watched the passing scenery from inside her carriage without interest. She really didn’t feel like shopping, but she had made the commitment to Kate and Mirabelle yesterday. They were delightful girls and on any other day Sophie would be eager for their company. But not today. Today she wanted nothing more than to lie in bed and indulge in a hearty wallow of self-pity and self-recrimination.
He should never have kissed her. That was all she could think about. And she should never have kissed him back. But he had, then she had, and there was no undoing it. If she were to be completely honest with herself she’d have to admit she didn’t really want to undo it. She did, however, fervently wish that the interlude had ended with something other than Alex laughing at her.
It had been a wonderful kiss, at least from her inexperienced standpoint. Sophie frowned and slumped back against the seat cushions. Apparently, Alex viewed the interlude from an entirely different perspective. Specifically, from that of a rake. Probably, he had kissed scores of women, legions, and undoubtedly most of them were a great deal more versed in the art of kissing than she, but really, it had been unforgivable of him to be so cruel as to laugh at her lack of skill.
It had been humiliating. And it hurt, even more than she would have expected. She had truly begun to like Alex, and for one glorious moment, when he had wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips against her own, she had felt beautiful, cherished, and desired.
And then he had laughed. And she had run home, feeling every bit the gullible country girl, and cried.
Sophie was saved having to relive that painful memory, yet again, by the sound of the carriage door opening. She blinked twice at the footman, before realizing they had reached the Cole town house. She allowed herself to be handed down and then took a moment on the front steps to square her shoulders and clear her thoughts.
Rockeforte was a cad, a rake, a bounder and…several other atrocities that didn’t come to her at the moment. He was not worth the effort it required to be angry and definitely not worthy of her tears. In the future she would, quite simply, have absolutely nothing to do with the man.
“Sophie! What ever are you doing standing on the steps?”