And what if his intentions were honorable? Certainly he hadn’t been courting her in the traditional sense of the word, but he’d always taken pains to see that her reputation remained intact. What if he offered to marry her? She didn’t think it particularly likely, but her heart did a funny little dance at the thought.
Then her joy immediately plummeted. There was every reason to believe she might be falling in love with Alex. And the more time she spent in his company, the likelier it became. Not the usual tendre preferred by the ton, and not the puppy love Kate felt for Lord Martin, but real love. True love. And what were the odds of finding true love? Dear God, what sort of calamity would she have to face to even out the good fortune of finding love? It was a terrifying thought.
In the end, her hesitation answered for her.
Alex dropped her hand. “When you are ready to explain your behavior, we will talk. Until that time, I’d prefer we keep separate company.” He spoke in a cool voice that shot little darts of pain into her chest. “I suggest you think carefully on what you stand to lose, Sophie. And I suggest you do so quickly. My patience is nearing an end.”
With that final warning, Alex gifted her with a stiff bow and left.
Nineteen
She spent the remainder of that night and all of the following day and night in her room, pleading a headache. She had attempted to allot herself only two hours for wallowing in sorrow, but for the first time in her life, her emotions refused to abide by her schedule. She’d fallen asleep that first night crying and woken with swollen eyes and a heavy weight determinately lodged in her chest.
She’d skipped breakfast and tried concentrating on her plans to save Whitefield, but that only resulted in another bout of weeping. Eventually, she gave up trying and returned to her bed, resolved to do better the next day.
She didn’t feel particularly better then either. She’d awoken in the small hours of the morning, and after another cry decided she would enlist Evie’s aid tomorrow at tea in fortifying her list. Then, before the week was out, she would pick one of the gentlemen, become engaged, and immediately tell Alex everything. She wouldn’t need to wait until the announcement. Once she had a verbal commitment, Alex could neither offer his assistance nor convince her to go back on her word.
She had fallen back asleep wondering if Alex would forgive her, and what it might mean if he did. What sort of relationship could they have once she belonged to another man? She could never stray from her marriage vows, even in a union of convenience. But would that keep her safe from love? Her sleep proved fitful.
Morning dawned bright and clear, something Sophie was inclined to take as a personal affront in her current mood. The men went off to hunt, leaving the women behind to entertain themselves as they would. Sophie arranged a ladies’ tea for her three friends that afternoon and gave the rest of the morning over to composing a letter to her father.
The girls met in a small second-floor parlor where they were unlikely to be disturbed. Evie was immediately filled in on Sophie’s plans to marry and they had just begun casting out new names for consideration when the parlor door opened and a slightly mischievous-looking Whit entered the room.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he chimed jovially. “Imp.”
“Whit!” Kate exclaimed, not looking entirely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone hunting with the others.”
“I stayed behind to assist Mother with some last-minute preparations for the next ball. Thought I might spare a moment to share a cup of tea with the ladies…and the imp.”
“I caught that the first time,” Mirabelle grumbled.
“The thing is, Whit,” Kate began uneasily, “the thing is, this is a ladies’ tea.”
“Is it?” he asked innocently. “Well, I’ll just drink mine quickly and be out of your hair then. Are those fresh biscuits?”
“Er…yes,” Kate reached hesitantly for another cup.
Mirabelle turned to face Whit as he took the empty seat next to her. “I believe what your sister is trying to say—”
“I know what she was trying to say,” Whit snapped. “Unlike some, I realize when I am not welcome.”
Kate and Evie groaned. Sophie watched the pair trade insults in horrified fascination.
“And you still want to stay? I’d hate to see the great and mighty Lord Thurston lower himself to my level,” Mirabelle drawled.
He took a bite of biscuit. “I thought there might be something in it I’ve been missing, like the pleasure of annoying someone. And don’t concern yourself about my stooping too far, I couldn’t invade your level with a shovel and pickax.”
“You really are an ass, Whit. It’s a wonder people still let you believe you’re a gentleman.”
“It is my gentlemanly nature that has kept me from killing you these dozen years or more. If I were any less a gentleman, or if you were a man, I’d have called you out by now.”