Determined to redeem herself in Sir Frederick’s eyes, she sent her thank-you note to him first, careful to fill it with what she hoped was some semblance of intelligence and humor. No doubt he viewed his task of courting young ladies in much the same way as did the gentlemen who danced with wallflowers. If it had to be done, best to do so in the least painful manner possible.
Sophie thought over the remainder of candidates on the list. Lord Verant hadn’t been in attendance last night, and Mr. Holcomb had danced with her once, then promptly ignored her in favor of an attractive woman closer to his own age. Sophie had briefly considered trying to entice him away, but found she couldn’t bring herself to do it. One look at the adoring glance the woman had sent Mr. Holcomb’s way, and Sophie had felt disgusted with herself for even contemplating coming between the two of them.
She had panicked a bit at the thought of further shortening her already meager list, but then she’d been introduced to one middle-aged man and one perfectly ancient man who had recently returned from America and the continent respectively. The first had lost his wife several years ago at the birth of his only son. The second was a childless widower, but Sophie figured his age precluded any chance he might expect a wife to give him an heir.
She hadn’t any preference for any one of her remaining candidates, although she was disinclined to like Mr. Johnson on the basis that he had spent the majority of his time speaking to her chest. She had the sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t be amenable to the idea of her leaving for China. Not alone anyway.
Well she couldn’t afford not to give him another chance, she decided resolutely, but she sent his note out last.
England was a beautiful country, Alex decided as he headed on foot toward Sophie’s house in the rain. And London was a beautiful town, he thought, sidestepping a suspicious pile on the sidewalk. Mayfield in particular was very nice, he mused, passing the fourth red brick house on that block. In fact, the world in general was a rather fine place, and Alex felt rather fine in it.
All because he had finally kissed Sophie Everton properly.
No laughing this time around, no gagging, no humiliating either of them. It had been damn good. He had been damn good, he reflected with purely masculine pride. He’d had her moaning and purring. And sweeter sounds coming from sweeter lips he could not imagine. Of course if memory served, she’d had him gasping and groaning, which meant she’d been damn good too.
They were good together. And that knowledge put an extra spring in his soggy step and had him grinning like an idiot.
Until he saw the carriage.
A black shiny carriage parked outside Sophie’s house. A black shiny carriage he knew didn’t belong to Sophie.
“Damn.”
He took the front steps two at a time and wondered which one of her admirers he was going to have to frighten off. Scowling, he pounded on the front door. It seemed to take forever to open and when it did he had to fist his hands to keep from shoving aside the elderly butler, charging into the sitting room, and forcefully dragging out whichever swain was in there with Sophie.
He could hear her laughing. Not the nauseating tittering she’d been doing last night, but that genuine soft melodic laughter that made his heart go warm. Or did, when she was laughing with him.
“The Duke of Rockeforte,” the butler announced grandly.
Behind him, Alex rolled his eyes. He hated being announced like that. He didn’t care for being announced at all, but it was particularly irritating to have one’s presence trumpeted to two people sitting in a drawing room in the middle of the afternoon.
Remembering there were indeed two people in said drawing room, instead of just the one there ought to be, Alex girded himself for battle, stepped around the butler…and stopped.
“Sir Frederick?”
“Rockeforte, good to see you.”
Sir Frederick?
Feeling a little disoriented, Alex shook the man’s proffered hand.
What the devil was Sir Frederick doing here?
Alex gave himself a sound mental shake. What the devil did he care? The man was no threat. He would even go so far as to say he liked Sir Frederick. He didn’t understand him necessarily, but that was beside the point.
He crossed the little parlor and took a seat, a little disappointed at a lost opportunity to thrash a potential rival. Although, in retrospect, that was probably for the best. He doubted that kind of behavior would go over well with Sophie. He glanced at her. She beamed at him.
Ah yes, the world was a fine place indeed.
“Sir Frederick was just telling me about Carleton House,” Sophie explained, passing Alex a cup of tea. He wasn’t thirsty, but she had never served tea for him before, and he found the feminine act oddly pleasant. He took the cup and looked to Sir Frederick.
“I take it you’ve been?”
Sir Frederick nodded grimly. “Only once, but once was quite enough.”
“Is it as bad as all that?” Sophie inquired.
Alex shrugged. “It certainly is…elaborate.”
“And ever changing,” Sir Frederick added. “Prinny has commissioned more alterations than most men demand of their tailors.”
“Part of the reason the man is so in debt,” Alex said. “And his enormous parties can’t help matters.”