The Wedding Duel (The Dueling Pistols Series) (30 page)

"Victor might. You don't know?"

"I haven't been out much since the baby."

Keene led them out to the waiting carriage and handed them up. As before, he sat across from Sophie. She watched the quiet exchange between Amelia and Keene.

Amelia turned to Sophie. "Is there anything you wish to know?"

Sophie shrugged and shook her head.

"Have Amelia instruct you in manners."

"I wasn't raised in a barn, Keene. I have a fair idea of how to address people. I should imagine it is the same in the country as at a ball."

"I mean that you can't run around a ballroom with your skirts hitched to your knees."

"I rarely run in ballrooms."

Amelia followed the exchange without speaking.

Sophie's excitement over attending a ball was being sucked out of her. When they finally reached the house and exited the carriage, Amelia drew her aside.

Sophie wanted to brush off the hand around her arm.

"Don't let him perturb you. I think Keene is quiet nervous for you."

"He is quite nervous I shall embarrass him."

Amelia shook her head. "Your exuberance will be regarded as refreshing; don't feel you must follow my manner."

"But you are held out as my example."

"I . . ." Amelia's stared into Sophie's eyes and then dipped her head. "I am always quite certain I shall be a social outcast if I slip."

"What are you two whispering?" Keene interrupted.

"Last-minute advice," answered Amelia smoothly.

Once they had passed the reception line where they were introduced to the debutante whose sparkling eyes restored Sophie's excitement, they stepped into a room filled with ladies dressed in all colors of the rainbow. Musicians played at the far end of the room on a raised dais. Dancing hadn't begun yet. Sophie glanced around, eager to test her memory of names and faces of people with the complete confidence of knowing Amelia would supply her with the information if she failed.

A young man dressed in blue superfine approached and greeted Amelia. He turned expectantly toward Sophie.

Amelia made the introduction.

"May I beg a dance of you later?"

Keene surged forward, then hovered over her shoulder. Was he afraid she couldn't correctly accept an invitation to dance?

"I should enjoy that." Sophie hoped that her response had enough graciousness to please her husband.

"I shall return later to claim it," said the man with a bow.

Keene scowled at her. Had she done something wrong?

"You do want her to fit in, don't you?" Amelia asked.

He stalked away.

"Where is he going, now?" asked Sophie.

"I should imagine he's seeking the refreshments. He looked in need of something cooling." A soft smile danced across Amelia's lips as she watched Keene walk away.

Sophie shut her eyes and forced her concerns about her husband and Amelia out of her head. She was here to have a good time, and
she would enjoy
the dancing.

She opened her eyes and spotted her friend Mary Frances across the room. She smiled and waved eagerly.

Mary Frances looked up from where she assisted an elderly man into a chair. She gave a discreet wave and took the chair beside the man, leaning close to speak into his ear.

Sophie asked, "Do you know, is that gentleman Miss Chandler's father?"

Amelia shook her head. "That is the recently widowed earl of Brumley. I suppose he is on the lookout for a new wife."

Victor joined them. "Brumley? Out of the card rooms is he?"

Amelia nodded.

"Is that his latest prey?" He nodded toward Mary Frances.

"Possibly. Perhaps we should warn her."

If Mary Frances was in any danger, of course they should warn her. Only Sophie hadn't the slightest idea what hazard the two of them were discussing.

"Rather too pretty to be his victim," Amelia said.

Victor shook his head. "Far too young."

Sophie frowned. She imagined that Mary Frances would be able to outwalk the elderly man, should he attempt anything untoward. "You sound as if he plans to slaughter her and eat her for breakfast."

Victor took pity on Sophie. "Brumley marries rich women and then gambles away all their money."

"Oh."

"No need to worry. He prefers widows," Amelia said.

"With an impeccable pedigree and not likely to outlive the depths of their pockets."

"The last one was quite a bit older than he."

Sophie was taken aback. How could anyone have been older? "She must have been quite stricken in years."

"Rather. Still, if Miss Chandler's pockets are very deep, he might consider her a fair catch." Victor made a leg. "Excuse me. I believe duty calls upon me to rescue the fair maiden."

Miss Cecilia Covens took the floor with her father. Other couples joined them. The young man who had asked for a dance earlier approached. Sophie allowed him to guide her into the set. Across the room Victor led Miss Chandler onto the floor. Thrilled to see her friends together, she smiled at her partner, but the smile froze on her face as she noticed Keene leading Amelia into another group.

But then, Keene couldn't dance with her if she was dancing with someone else, could he? Undoubtedly he would ask her to dance later. Besides, it wasn't as if she wanted him hanging on her sleeve every minute.

She turned her attention to her partner. With the music and the accompanying dance movements, she couldn't stay cross. Before long, she was laughing at the nonsensical ramblings of her companion and adding her own. She caught Keene's dark eyes and flashed him a smile.

Keene didn't feel like smiling, not as long as Sophie was enjoying herself too freely with her dancing partner. He wanted to take the man and pound his face into the floor. The bloodthirsty urge came from nowhere and shocked Keene. He attributed his violent reaction to not knowing who fathered Sophie's child and his suspicion of every man she graced with her smile.

"I think she's having a good time."

Keene swiveled back to look at Amelia's averted face. "But you're not?"

She shrugged. "Of course, I'm having a wonderful time."

"George will come around."

Amelia turned hopeful blue eyes in his direction. "Did you see Regina today?"

Her concern about her daughter softened his temper. He gave her news that a year ago he would have considered absurd: how many times Regina had nursed, had her nappies changed, how long she'd slept. Amelia hung on his discourse as if he were reciting the secret recipe for ambrosia.

"How our conversations have digressed," said Keene.

Amelia smiled softly.

Across the room, Sophie's infectious laughter peeled. That he could hear her from this distance made him wonder if everyone would turn and stare. When he glanced around, no one seemed to be taking any notice. Nevertheless, he wished she would restrain herself. Her lack of decorum made him queasy.

He wanted to snatch her out of the ballroom and pull her into a dark corner and. . . . The image that popped into his head wasn't of a lecture. No, the sight of her sheer pink stockings as she descended the stairs early in the evening fostered fantasies of untying her garters. The idea of removing them tormented him.

Amelia said something he hadn't heard. "What?"

"I asked if you mean to dance with Sophie?"

Dance with her? How could he dance with her and not be crazy to make love to her? Yet, he couldn't make her his wife. He couldn't give her the fuel to perpetuate her charade. "No, I believe I shall ask Victor to escort the two of you home."

Only when he was outside on the street, the cool night air soothing his heated skin, did it occur to him, that asking Victor to escort Amelia in a closed carriage was possibly not the smartest of choices.

* * *

Sophie watched her husband exit from the ballroom. Her throat grew tight. She swallowed hard around a barrier that hadn't been there a minute ago.

"Might I have the next dance?"

Sophie swiveled around and caught the too-knowing expression of Lord Algany. "By all means."

Her voice trembled as she spoke, and she wished she could be more discreet with her emotions. Across the room, Amelia appeared totally serene as she spoke with a young woman. Had she and Keene disagreed over something? Was that why he left with such a scowl on his face?

"Perhaps I should fetch you a drink instead."

"I should enjoy a dance, better."

Algany held out his arm and Sophie placed her gloved hand on his sleeve. He leaned close to her ear, his breath stirring her hair. "Your husband is a fool to leave you alone."

"I'm not alone," she whispered.

"No, you have me at your disposal, my dearest."

But she was alone, and as charming as Lord Algany could be, she couldn't forget the pressure he'd put on her at the theater, so when the dance ended, she claimed a prior obligation to dance with Lord Wedmont.

Algany insisted on handing her over himself. Victor looked as though he was headed in Miss Coven's direction when Sophie rapped him with her fan. "Have you forgotten you promised this dance to me?"

"Sophie, I did not!" He turned and saw Lord Algany and added, ". . . realize it was this one. I thought you promised me a waltz." Victor extended his arm. He stalked out into the set. "I promised this one to the guest of honor."

"I'm sorry. I'll tell her it was my fault for mistaking the dance, and you were too gentlemanly to point it out."

"I daresay she'll find a replacement." Victor shrugged.

Sophie watched as Algany approached Amelia. Her prior dance partner was not suffering the loss of her company. Victor wasn't happy about dancing with her, and Keene hadn't even bothered. "I should have enjoyed myself better in Algany's company."

The man at least
wanted
to dance with her.

"I couldn't very well leave you with him. Keene would kill me."

"More like to send me back to the country."

"He can't with Amelia staying there."

That Keene only wanted her to stay in London as a cover for Amelia's stay was exactly what Sophie feared.

* * *

Keene stared across the dimly lit room as his wife laughed. The candlelight danced on her short blonde curls. Soon she would take the floor with one of the men crowding around her. In just a couple of weeks, she had blossomed into, if not the toast of the season, at least one of the young matrons favored by several regular admirers. Amelia would be sure she did not dance more than twice with any one man. Although, to give his wife her due, Keene had never seen her exhibit favoritism toward any man other than Victor.

"Amelia looks tired," Victor commented.

Keene glanced around to be sure no one could overhear. "I think she is worn out waiting for George to make a decision."

"Has she tried talking to him?"

Keene shook his head.

"Sophie looks quite animated."

"Her natural state."

Sophie laughed and skipped up to her friend Mary Frances.

Keene shook his head. Amelia cast a strained glance in their direction. Her mouth suddenly rounded in an "O" and she swiveled around, presenting her back to them. Keene looked to see what horror Sophie had committed, but she was simply talking to the heiress.

Victor looked over his shoulder toward the door. "George."

Keene turned around.

"Excuse me," said Victor, making a polite bow.

Coward.

When George reached his side, Keene said, "It's good to see you here."

"I thought I should make an appearance. Have you seen my wife?"

"Yes." Keene once again glanced around to make sure no one hovered close.

"That bastard!"

Keene glanced over his shoulder to see Victor leading Amelia to the dance floor. He grabbed George's arm. "Get a grip, man."

Her uncertain glance in their direction tore at Keene's heart.

"Let's go to the Cocoa Tree. The company here bores me," said George.

Keene nodded. He didn't want to stay and watch Sophie. The more he watched her, the more he wanted her, and the harder it became to sleep at night, knowing she was in the next room, the next bed, her pregnancy still concealed, still imperceptible. There were moments, too many moments, when he didn't care any longer.

His brother's friend and one time second, John, entered the assembly hall as they approached the exit.

"Hello, Davies. Keeting, how's the baby?"

George smiled. "She holds her head up a bit now."

Keene could have wept with relief at the signs of acceptance, even joy, on George's face. After they exchanged pleasantries with the young man, George and Keene climbed into George's carriage.

"Are you feeling better about her?"