Alex practically snapped that last word. His irritation with Sophie’s admirers was growing by leaps and bounds. He wasn’t a jealous man by nature; possessive, yes, but not jealous. If asked what the difference was a month ago, Alex likely wouldn’t have been able to answer with any degree of eloquence. That had changed, however, the moment Sophie had teased him about meeting someone else in the Pattons’ garden. And she had been teasing, he decided firmly. Not just because Sophie was not the type of girl to make a midnight assignation at a stranger’s ball, but because the alternative— that she was exactly that kind of girl—was too disturbing to consider.
And that was the difference between feeling possessive and feeling jealous. Fear.
Fear that she might be playing him for a fool. Fear that she would seek the arms of someone unworthy of her. Fear that she might find him lacking. Fear and all the uncomfortable side effects that came with it—anger, suspicion, insecurity.
Alex focused on the anger. He waited until he caught the eye of one unfortunate young man in Sophie’s entourage, then gave one very menacing, very ducal shake of his head and began to move in the group’s direction.
As he anticipated, the first young man whispered to the not-so-young man next to him and then left. The not-so-young man repeated the procedure with the positively elderly man at his side. By the time Alex crossed the room, only three dawdlers remained. Either they were very brave or very stupid. Alex managed to dispatch them in quick order with a glare, a scowl, and for one stupidly brave lieutenant, an actual growl.
Alex watched him flee with no small amount of satisfaction before turning his attention to Sophie. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand just what in hell she meant by wearing that dress. But upon further consideration, he felt it might be best to ease into that line of questioning. Sophie already looked a little put out with him. And he was interviewing for the role of husband, not chaperone. Speaking of which…
“Where is your Mrs. Summers?” he demanded, his voice sounding harsher than he intended.
She scowled at him. No sickly sweet smiles for him, he noticed. Alex wasn’t sure if he was pleased by that or not.
“Why did you do that?” she snapped crossly, ignoring his question.
“Do what?”
“Charge over here and chase off my new friends like some great snarling—”
“Orangutan?” he offered.
“Bear,” she concluded.
“What a menagerie you seem to think me.”
“It’s not my fault you behave like an animal every time I see you.”
Alex stifled a groan. He’d like to be able to behave like an animal every time he saw her. He caught sight of a young man who looked to be headed in Sophie’s direction, and glowered.
The youth veered off toward the refreshment table.
“Stop doing that,” Sophie hissed.
“I wouldn’t have to if your chaperone was where she was supposed to be,” he snapped, growing irritated.
“Mrs. Summers is with all the other chaperones, if you’re so desperate to find her. Their chaperoning duties being somewhat diminished as their charges are all in clear view of half the ton. Besides,” she caught sight of the elderly Lord Buckland and gave him an encouraging little smile and wave before continuing, “I’m not doing anything that requires censorship.”
Alex followed her line of vision.
“That’s it.” Taking her by the elbow, he half escorted, half dragged her to the terrace doors.
Sophie resisted only briefly before apparently deciding it wasn’t worth the attention it would draw. She smiled pleasantly at the people they passed, but Alex heard her mumble something about chaperones not being forced upon the right people.
Finally they reached the relative privacy of the stone terrace. She dropped her smile at once.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed angrily.
“I could ask the same of you,” Alex bit off. “This isn’t like you, Sophie.”
She jerked her arm from his grasp and took a step back. “How would you know? You’ve known me for less than a month. That hardly makes you a qualified judge of my character.”
There was simply no rational argument against that observation. Alex felt in his gut that he did know Sophie, that he understood her—and he made it a point to always trust his gut. But somehow the phrase, I just know, no matter how sincerely spoken, seemed unreasonably juvenile. He chose to ignore her words instead. It seemed the next best thing to logic.
“Why are you encouraging those men?” he demanded.
Sophie lifted her eyes heavenward and blew out a long breath. “Because it was enjoyable, Alex,” she said as if explaining something to a small child, one who had long, long ago exhausted her patience. “Because it was fun. I was having fun. And now,” she said pointedly, “I am not.”
Alex forced himself to relax, reminding himself again that he was trying to woo this girl.
“We can fix that easily enough, I imagine.” He leaned back against the side of the house and crossed his arms. “What would you like to do?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What would you like to do?” he repeated. “You expressed a desire to have fun. I am at your disposal. We can dance, if you like.”
“My card is full.”
“I could fetch you some champagne.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“We could sneak into the garden.”
“Nor am I stupid.”
“That last bit is what I would like to do. In case you were interested.”
“I wasn’t.”
“So make a suggestion, Sophie. Help me along here.”