Liked? Hell, he was obsessed with her. Every part of her. Her broad smile, her quick mind, her adorable struggle to reconcile the proper British lady with the world traveler, her complete indifference to his wealth and rank. Of all Sophie’s fine qualities, this last was one of his favorites. She made no effort to butter up the Duke of Rockeforte, preferring to match wits with the man rather than the title.
She’d make an excellent duchess, he decided. She was strong, intelligent, and fortunately—because she was going to be his duchess—highly desirable.
No simpering, flirting miss, his Sophie.
Thirteen
She was simpering and flirting.
From across Lord Forent’s ballroom, Alex watched in absolute shock. Sophie was smiling demurely, fluttering her fan seductively, and—dear God, this was the most disturbing part—batting her eyelashes like a well-trained debutante fresh out of the schoolroom.
Worse, she was good at it. There wasn’t a man under the age of seventy not taken by her charms.
Not that he could blame them. A good deal of her charms were on display at the moment. Sophie was wearing a concoction of ivory silk designed to attract a man’s attention. It turned her thick hair the color of the most de cadent of dark chocolates, her eyes the clearest of sapphires, and her skin the richest of creams.
Like her previous gowns, it was relatively unadorned, with only a simple gold ribbon trimming the puff sleeves and hem. Unlike her other gowns, however, it hadn’t been cut with an eye for modesty. Oh, it was still well within the bounds of propriety—she hadn’t dampened her skirt to make it cling to her legs, or raised the hemline. But the material hugged every curve of her body, and there was an unmistakable extra inch or two of bosom showing. Alex could make out the swell of her breasts and a tantalizing line of cleavage.
He scowled. What he could see, everyone could see. And by the looks of the veritable swarm of eager young men attending upon Sophie, they all liked what they saw.
“You’re looking very fierce.”
Alex barely turned his head to acknowledge the arrival of a chuckling Whit. How hard could it be to scatter the fops? Surely not that difficult. He could easily manage at least two and probably that would prove sufficient incentive for the rest to flee. His mood lightened considerably.
Of course, there was the slight chance they’d have the sense to join forces. He doubted it, but one never knew for certain, and then what would he do? Alex smiled and turned to Whit. That, he figured, was why one had friends.
“Absolutely not,” Whit said.
“Do you even know what you’re refusing?”
“I haven’t the foggiest notion. I know only that you were glaring at them,” he indicated the offending group of men, “and then grinning at me.” He shook his head. “And it was enough to surmise that no good would come of it. Particularly not for me.”
“And that’s all that really matters?”
“Yes,” Whit responded with good humor.
Alex turned back toward Sophie just as some libertine escorted her to the dance floor.
“Again. Fierce,” Whit said.
“Hmph.”
“I spoke with her earlier this evening.”
“Did you?” Alex snapped his head back toward his friend.
“Easy, good lord, I only wanted to take her mea sure.”
“And?”
“And she reminds me of my sister.”
Alex was surprised to hear Whit’s assessment in such an ominous tone of voice. “You like Kate,” he pointed out.
“I adore the chit. I’d walk over hot coals for her, stand still on them if she asked me to, but she’s a hellion and well you know it. She’ll be nineteen this winter,” Whit continued. “Mother’s decided to postpone her debut so Kate can have a year of intensive deportment lessons.”
“Does she really think that will help?”
“She must, or she wouldn’t be doing it. Mother’s just itching to get the lot of us married off. She was bad enough when I came of age, but I’m a son. Poor Kate, Mother’s preparing for her first season like they’re going into battle. It’s quite disturbing, actually.”
“Yes, well for Kate’s sake, I hope your mother’s efforts are met with success.”
“I intend to see that they are,” Whit said with unusual fervor. “I won’t have Kate trampled by the nastier members of society. I won’t have her stepped on by anyone, come to that, and I expect your assistance.”
“You should expect it. For all that we are not blood relations, you know I still consider Kate a sister.”
“And accept the responsibilities that come with such a connection?”
“Of course.”
“Good, then we shall be miserable together.”
“Splendid.”