Trapping a Duchess (10 page)

He feathered a light kiss across her knuckles, eliciting a shiver through her petite frame. “The pleasure, I assure you, was mine.” She beamed; he knew that she would.

“I shall see you at Vauxhall, day after tomorrow?”

“If not before then,” he said smoothly, then nodded to her brother. “Courtland.”

“Your Grace.”

As he and Simon made their way to White's, Andrew’s thoughts turned again to Sophie. Given the tension he still felt when around her, he would do well to give her a wide berth. Apart from spending his evenings at home, he wasn't sure how to accomplish such a thing. Like most ladies of her station, she was invited everywhere.

“You have been quiet,” Simon said, as soon as they were seated. With a quick signal, a waiter was on his way with a decanter of brandy.

Andrew waited until the man had bowed and departed, then answered. “I was thinking the same about you.” His tight-lipped grin was mocking.

“Do you want to tell me why you dragged me out there today?” Simon asked, leaning back in his chair and looking annoyed.

“Not particularly,” Andrew said as he filled their snifters.

Simon's eyebrows lifted. “I forgot how very
young
young ladies can be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lady Abigail is quite different from your usual sport.”

“I suppose if I had usual sport,” Andrew countered, bracing his arms behind his head, “then one might say that.”

His oldest friend eyed him over the rim of his glass. “And?”

“Ask your question, Simon.”

“Fine. Do you intend to marry her?”

Andrew took a moment to formulate his response. “It is past time I took a bride and sired an heir. We have had this discussion already, have we not?”

Simon answered with a nod, then downed his brandy in one long gulp, sucking in a satisfied breath. “Christ, that’s good. Have you made your intentions known to Courtland?” Andrew continued toying with his glass and ignored Simon’s question. “You do not need me to accompany you if you wish to court the chit. Courtland’s presence satisfies propriety’s requirements.”

He shot him an annoyed look. “I am aware of the requirements. I have not been away from society long enough to have forgotten the lesson.”

“A fancy declaration coming from the man who requested my sister’s presence, alone in a carriage, less than twenty-four hours ago,” Simon countered. “You will forgive me if I am unconvinced that you remember the governing conduct.”

“I had good reason for that, and you know it.”

“Answer my question, then. Why did you drag me along, if not to play chaperone?”

He traced the rim of his glass with his finger, inwardly cursing his insecurities. “I brought you along,” he ground out, “because I wanted to get your opinion of the lady.”

“What?” Simon let out a bark of laughter. “Firstly, Drew, at eighteen—”

“Nineteen.”

“Fine, nineteen, she can hardly be considered a lady. Secondly, what does my opinion matter?” He leaned back in his chair, punctuating his question with a contemptuous look. “She won’t be married to me.”

“I am asking because I trust you. I know that you would never let me make another mistake like I did before.” For a long moment, he lost himself in the swirl of his drink.

“With my sister, you mean?” Simon asked, his voice free of the protectiveness Andrew expected. Simon grinned smugly as he refilled their snifters. “As I do not share your emotional uncertainty, I will say this and nothing more. What happened between you and my sister is in the past. It has little to do with the present and nothing at all to do with your future.”

Andrew raked his hand through his hair and rubbed his neck. Simon's words reminiscent of the ones running through his head nearly constantly. “I know. I just seem to have no head for this type of thing.”

“What man does?” Simon laughed. “You are choosing a wife; a vessel which will provide the duchy's next generation.”

“Not to add any more pressure to the situation,” he muttered around his drink.

Simon grew serious. “You are no fool, Drew, so stop acting like one. You are the bloody Duke of Tolland. There isn't a single woman out there who would refuse the chance to become your duchess.”

“Apart from your sister.”

“Whose opposition is to marriage in general, and has nothing to do with you.”

Andrew could not hide his curiosity. He had always considered Sophie's abandonment a reflection of her feelings about him as a person. To learn she did not want to wed at all was surprising. “Has she given a reason for her aversion?”

“Not one which makes a damn bit of sense, which is why I am convinced she needs a husband now more than ever. With each passing day, her resolve strengthens. If I don't marry her off soon, I'll never be able. And I'll have to hear about the failure from my mother for the rest of my days.”

Andrew chuckled.

“I am serious,” he said, his lip curling into a sneer.

“I can see that you are,” he said, grinning.

“She will take a husband, if I have to choose one for her, and drag her to the altar.”

“You'll have to resort to underhanded behavior to get her there,” he said, his teasing smile meant to hide the turmoil Simon's declaration had wrought.
She will take a husband
.

Simon lifted his glass in salute. “It will always be by way of pain that one arrives at pleasure.”

“Voltaire?”

“De Sade,” he said with an impudent grin. “Now, let us move on and discuss something of import. I saw a team of Arabians at Tattersall's yesterday.” Andrew listened as Simon described the horses and prattled on about their attributes. He smiled and nodded at the appropriate times, while his pricked pride repeated Simon's declaration until he was nearly crazed.
She will take a husband.

Preferably someone I don’t know and never have to see again
.
Ever
. He stiffened, then covered the movement by resting his leg on his knee.

“Dinner tomorrow?” Simon was asking, his gaze searching.

“What? Oh, yes. At eight sharp. You are still coming, yes?”

“Absolutely,” Simon said, rising. “I never miss an opportunity for a good meal. Especially when it’s funded by your coffers.”

“Of course,” Andrew said, following him. “I will see you at dinner, then. Unless by some bizarre twist of fate, you plan on attending Lady Morgan’s musicale?”

Simon's nose crinkled. “Gads, no. I value my hearing far too much.”

Andrew laughed. “As do we all. Alas, I promised Alexandra I would accompany her. Lady Abigail will be there. Might as well take advantage of the opportunity to further my aims.” And put the notion of a blond haired, blue eyed minx out of his head once and for all.

* * * *

Sophie adjusted the sleeves of her gown as she made her way downstairs. The day had started out as usual—a large breakfast shared by Simon and mother followed by a relaxing hour of reading the latest gossip rag in the library. She was on her way back to her bedchamber when the knocker sounded on the front door. She didn't think too much of it, given her mother Louise's extensive social schedule, but the sound of a man's voice grabbed her attention, holding her captive at the top of the staircase.

Within moments, Carlton was climbing the stairs towards her, an ivory card resting on his salver. “You have a caller, Lady Sophia.”

“Who is it?” she asked in a hushed tone. The butler did not answer, but his lips twitched as she took the ivory card.
Marquis of Courtland
. “Pray inform his lordship that I will join him momentarily.”

“Of course, my lady.”

She kept her pace slow as she made her way to her bedchamber. While rustling skirts and pounding footsteps were more in alignment with the excitement coursing through her, decorum was required. In her bedchamber, however, enthusiasm took hold. She moved quickly, brushing and pinning her hair, and made sure her gown was not wrinkled. A few pinches of the cheeks later and she was stepping through the doorway to greet him. “Good morning, my lord,” she said, offering a respectful curtsy.

“I apologize for the unexpected visit,” he said, looking uneasy as he bowed. “I am one of those early risers who tends to forget everyone else isn't.”

“Oh, it is no bother. Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the sofa, surprised when he did not sit. “I could ring for tea?”

“No, thank you.” He stared out the window for a long moment, shifting from foot to foot. “I was on my way to parliament when I passed your home and it occurred to me that I didn't. . .I mean, I wanted to yesterday, but didn't. . .” He cleared his throat, drawing in a deep breath. “What I am trying to ask, most inarticulately, is if you would accompany me to the Lindford ball tomorrow evening?” She tamped down a triumphant squeal. “If you don't already have an escort, that is,” he added quickly.

“I—”

“If you do, I understand. It's just—”

Normally Sophie wouldn't dare interrupt when someone was talking, but Lord Courtland looked as if he might have an apoplexy if he didn't have her answer. Besides, she wanted him to know that she found the offer to her liking. “I would love to.”

It seemed to take a moment for her acceptance to sink in, but finally, his lips curved into a boyish smile. “Oh. Excellent.” An unspoken excitement danced between them, and she could almost see them waltzing through the air.

“I should be on my way.” The words sounded forced, as if he did not want to say them.

“I will see you tomorrow evening, then.” She curtsied again, then followed him to the door.

“Good day, Lady Sophia.”

“Good day, my lord.” She stared at the closed door for a long moment, stunned at her good fortune, before instructing Carlton to deliver a note to Alexandra.

Once returned to her bedchamber, she considered the marquis. Despite his nervous invitation, Lord Courtland was a confident man. Cultured and playful, he had an irrepressible youthfulness which lit his entire bearing. The more time she spent with him, the more suitable she found him. If she was to be forced into a union, she would prefer to do it with a man like him, whose relaxed nature offered a glimpse into the future of freedom for which she longed.

He seemed the type who would worship the ground she walked on and allow her to go about her business without interfering, so long as she didn't make him a cuckold. Naturally, an heir would be required first. Her mind jumped to an image of the two of them in bed and she blushed scarlet at the thought. She fanned herself as she walked over to her wardrobe, flipping through gown after gownn until she located the one she sought. The pale green
duchesse
silk had a cording of a deeper green at the end of the puffed sleeves, but was otherwise unadorned. It was better than perfect as it would compliment the moss-green color of his eyes. Laying the gown down neatly on the bed, she went to her jewelry box, sifting through until she found the perfect piece, a pearl necklace with a silver rimmed diamond in the center. She held it up and studied her reflection, pleased with the way the tip of the stone nestled in the base of her throat.

The sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs had her glancing towards the door. Alex practically skidded into the room, words rushed and breathless as she doubled over. “Tell me everything.”

Sophie laughed. She sent for Alex the moment the marquis left. “He stopped by to ask if he could escort me to the Lindford ball tomorrow evening.”

Alex sat on the bed and studied her, a teasing grin breaking through the twist of exhaustion on her face. “He could not send over a note? You told that blackguard ‘no’ I presume?”

Sophie joined her on the bed with a childlike bounce, nearly knocking Alex off. “Oh, you should have seen him, Lex. He was actually nervous! I've never seen anything like it. And I never imagined myself the type to get excited over a simple invitation, but he was so endearing.”

Alexandra laid her head back on the pillow, her expression thoughtful as she stared at the cream colored canopy above. “He is a wonderful man, Sophie. I have had the pleasure of his company on more than one occasion. He is kind, gentlemanly, funny. . .and Abby speaks of him as if he were the greatest man alive.”

“Then I shall have to snatch him up before someone else does,” Sophie said with mock seriousness. “Now that he has returned, the ladies will be vying for his attention.”

Alex faced her and smiled. “They have done already. Until now, he has shown no interest.”

A spike of nerves made Sophie blanch and she pressed her hand against her pounding heart. “Do not say such things. It puts all manner of undue pressure on me.”

“What time does he arrive?” she asked, chuckling as she sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs.

Sophie did the same, resting her chin on her knees. “Half past nine. I swear I shall be a tittering mess by then.”

Alex swatted at her. “Of course you won’t, Sophie.” She gestured at the green silk. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Too much?” Sophie asked with a frown.

“Heavens, no! You’ll look like a goddess in that gown. Lord Courtland will be the envy of every man there.”