Trapping a Duchess (11 page)

Except for your brother
. The thought caught Sophie by surprise. “What do you plan on wearing,” she asked, changing the subject as she walked to her wardrobe. She peered inside, looking for her matching satin slippers.

“Probably my light blue taffeta. By the way, do you have you plans for this evening?”

“No,” Sophie tossed over her shoulder as she continued to look for her shoes.

“Good. Then you will have no reason to decline when I invite you for dinner?”

Poking her head out of the wardrobe door, Sophie pinned her with a look that said she would create a reason, any reason, if need be.

“Oh, come now. It will not be as bad as all that. It's just dinner. And besides, Lord Courtland will be there.” Her expression transformed from meek to hopeful. “This will be the perfect chance for you to spend time with him out of sight of the ton's watchful eyes.”

“Only to replace their scrutiny with your brother’s?” Sophie shook her head. “I do not think he wishes for me to join his private dinner.”

“Tosh,” Alex said. “It is not private. And it’s not his dinner. The idea was mine, therefore I may invite whomever I wish.” Her matter-of-fact tone was matched by a defiant gleam in her brown eyes.

As long as they had known each other, Sophie had never seen her look so determined. She raised a brow, her hands moving to her hips. “Alexandra Wolter, you are my oldest and dearest friend, but you know as well as I do that my joining you for dinner will fuel an already volatile situation.”

Alex did not appear mollified. “Sophie, listen to me. Despite your wishes to the contrary, there is going to come a time when my brother must see you with another man. Why not do it in a private, rather than public, setting?”

“Irritating the duke is hardly going to aid my cause.”

“His composure will survive, as it always does. And if it does get rattled, then so be it. Lord knows he deserves as much for behaving like a vengeful child.”

“You underestimate the folly of pride,” she said, shaking her head.

“If you won't do it for yourself, then do it for me? I will need the distraction from the attention of Lords Thomas and Roxford.”

“They are coming, too, then?” Sophie asked, inwardly surprised, despite the current state of affairs between her and Andrew, that Alex had not mentioned the dinner sooner. “How did that happen?”

Alex's voice was droll. “I have no idea. Andrew has never been fond of Lord Thomas, which leads me to believe he is having a go.”

“Well, as a mere viscount, he is hardly a suitable match for the daughter of a duke,” Sophie laughed. “But that is neither here nor there. Do you not find his company enjoyable at all?”

She rolled her eyes. “He is boring, Sophie. He rarely discusses anything apart from horses,” she said, her nose wrinkling as if she could actually smell manure.

“He is not as bad as some, my dear. It could have been Lord Bottley who was invited.”

“That man is a menace,” Alex said, flopping back on the bed like a fish trying to escape a hook. “I have never once given him the slightest indication that I would encourage his pursuit. Yet pursue he continues to do.”

Sophie joined her. “I do not believe it takes much for men like him to find a reason.”

“Did you just insult me?” Alex asked, glancing sideways at her.

“Not at all, my dear. You are a prize catch,” she said, impressing herself with her imitation of Bottley’s voice. “Especially for a lowly baron.”

Alex pinned her with a puppy dog look. “Please do not make me suffer through this evening alone. I need you there, lest I be positively lost.”

“There will be others there to act as buffers,” Sophie offered in lieu of a ‘no.’

“That is my point.” Alex counted the number on her fingers. “Nine other people.”

“Right,” she agreed. “Nine other people to occupy your time.”

“And three other women to occupy Lord Courtland’s time.” Alex wore the expression of a card player who had just thrown down the winning trump. “I believe Lady Henry is coming. That alone should set your feet in motion.”

Lady Henry was a world-renowned flirt and catty title hunter of the first order. She would sink her claws into Lord Courtland before dinner was served. Sophie eyed her manipulative friend and groaned. “All right. I shall come, but it is against my better judgment.” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Was she really going to march into his house and sit at his table and flirt with his guest? A chuckle of nervousness escaped her.

“Think of it as the next step on your path to freedom,” Alex said excitedly, and at Sophie’s wry grin added, “Every step into the future takes you further away from the past.”

Sophie nodded, shoving down her apprehension and doing her best to warm to the notion. She could not risk losing Lord Courtland's attention. As far as possible future spouses went, he met her needs perfectly.

“Excellent,” Alex said, jumping off the bed and rushing to the door. “I shall see you at eight.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and Sophie? Don’t wear the green silk to the Lindford Ball.”

“I thought you said it was perfect?” she asked, confused.

“It is. For tonight’s dinner,” Alex said smartly. She winked before flouncing out of the room.

Sophie giggled, overcome by a wave of anticipation. She would make the evening a night to remember. For the next ten minutes, she wandered around the room with a dreamy smile, visions of Lord Courtland’s handsome face dancing in her head.

* * * *

Andrew was in his study pouring over estate matters when Alex entered.
Without knocking
. He noted her feline grin and defiant posture with a frown. With an unreadable expression, she plopped into one of the armchairs across from him and examined her fingernails. His inner voice warned that she had not come for a social visit. She glanced up, all innocence; he didn’t believe her harmlessness for a second. “Have you something you wish to discuss?” he asked, curious to hear the reason behind her behavior.

“I do,” she said, tilting her chin in the air. “I give you warning I invited Sophie to dinner.”

He stiffened only a second before his mask slipped into place. “Warning accepted,” he said with as droll a voice as he could muster. Alexandra was one of the few people able to see through the veneer covering his emotions. It was a talent she had learned from him, and for the most part, they honored a tacit agreement never to use it on one another. For some reason, though, she was playing traitor. He shuffled papers around on his desk, trying to locate his stationary. “Is that all?” he asked, reaching for a quill so he could invite a few more guests to dinner. Perhaps there would be safety in large numbers, in which case, he should send out invitations to everyone in England.
To the entire world, for that matter
.

“That is all.”

“I will see you at dinner, then,” he said, dipping his head dismissively. Andrew penned a note to Simon then called for Weston to have it delivered. After Weston left, he tried to refocus on his estate matters, but all he could think about was Sophie. How the devil was he supposed to pay attention to Lady Abigail while she was in the same room?

He shook off his annoyance, absolutely refusing to let the idea of her presence trouble him. He would just ignore her and focus his attentions on his future bride. Fortunately, Lady Abigail’s interest could be engaged with as little as a smile in her direction. He was, after all, a wealthy duke. For the daughter of a marquis, he would be quite the catch. He had chosen her for his attentions just as he would have done a horse from Tattersall’s.

Of course, she was a lady and not a brood mare and so a bit of encouragement would not go amiss. His lips twitched.
The evening shall be interesting indeed
, he thought with a smirk as he headed to his bedchamber to prepare for the night to come. If Sophie expected to invade his table, she better be prepared to accept the consequences.

Chapter Seven

At a quarter to eight, Simon arrived with the beautiful Lady Forrester draped on his arm. Andrew’s other guests were already waiting in the green salon. He had poked his head in earlier and offered his greetings while making a quick mental note on who had arrived and who had not. So far, there was no sign of Courtland or his sister.
Nor of Sophie, thank God
. The less time he spent around her, the better.

He watched from the staircase landing as Weston ushered his guests in. Simon’s affirmation that he would attend was followed with a postscript informing him that he was bringing the viscountess. Andrew knew that Simon was trying to woo the widow and did not have the heart to begrudge his friend such a small favor, especially as Simon was doing him a rather larger one simply by attending tonight. Besides, Andrew genuinely liked Lady Forrester. She had married young to a husband significantly older than she in a union perpetuated by her family’s financial state. Lord Forrester was the worst of husbands, refusing to give up gambling and skirt chasing even after he took his vows. His wife had accepted that his misbehavior would never change and retaliated in her own way, secretly using every manner of birth control she could get her hands on in silent refusal to provide him with an heir. After three years, she was declared barren and Lord Forrester turned his interests elsewhere in earnest. Sadly, or perhaps not, the viscount's taste in bed partners did not match his taste in wives. Only a few years into their marriage, the earl contracted the pox from one of the many whores he slept with and died, leaving Eliza financially sound and free of a marriage that had threatened to break her spirit.

Andrew had forged a friendship with her during one of his sojourns back to London. Though he found her beautiful, his attraction was overruled by his genuine enjoyment of their conversations. Unlike most women of his acquaintance, she never pandered to his arrogance.

He watched as Weston took her cloak, revealing a crimson satin gown. “Right on time,” he said with a grin. Reaching Eliza first, he took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “You look delectable, my lady.”

“Thank you, you rascal. I mean, Your Grace,” she said, mischief brightening her cat-like eyes, even as she curtsied demurely.

“And do I look delectable as well, you arse?” Simon asked with a good-natured chuckle.

Andrew sized his friend up with a quick glance. “Not to me, but I highly doubt that will matter by evening’s end.” He grinned at Eliza, who grinned right back. If there was a woman other than Alexandra who could match Simon wit for wit, it was Eliza. His friend had no idea what he was getting himself into. Or how much fun he would have in the process. The knocker sounded on the door. Weston opened it and Lord Courtland and Lady Abigail entered. She was dressed in a pale pink gown that practically foamed with lace. Andrew stifled a grimace. She looked like a porcelain doll, fresh out of the schoolroom and exceedingly innocent. He took her hand.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” Offering an elegant bow, he brushed a light kiss onto her knuckles. Her tremble was a stark reminder of the difference between her experience and his. She was innocent in a way he had never been.

“Welcome to my home,” he said before turning to her brother and offering a nod. “Courtland.”

“Your Grace,” he acknowledged with a friendly smile.

Andrew gestured towards the sitting room. “The rest of the guests are taking refreshment. If you will make yourselves comfortable, I'll be along in a moment.”

Lady Abigail and Courtland entered, but Simon and Eliza lingered in the hall. Andrew was about to inquire as to the reason when a soft lilt of feminine laughter drifted down the staircase. Glancing back over his shoulder, he caught Alexandra's descent, arm in arm with Sophie. Engaged in conversation, they did not notice him.

The pale green silk Sophie wore clung to her body, and the outline of her movements locked his lungs tight. His trousers weren't faring any better. The impatient twitch of his swelling cock pulled them so snug he felt he was about to burst out of the seams. Working through his discomfort, he watched their descent. The collusive tilt of their heads, combined with the hushed tones and Sophie's intrigued smile, sent a warning snaking up his spine.

“Come, my lord,” Lady Forrester murmured, tugging Simon towards the doorway. “Let us move to the sitting room so His Grace can finish greeting his guests.” She tossed a knowing look over her shoulder as they departed. Andrew met it with a grimace, then glanced back at the staircase, watching the last of Sophie’s descent through shuttered lids.

He cleared his throat and her gaze jerked to his. “Lady Sophia,” he greeted with a bow. “I was unaware you had arrived.”

She said nothing until she reached the bottom of the staircase. A diffident smile accompanied her polite curtsy. “Your Grace,” she said, lifting her gaze to his. “You were busy in your study. I did not wish to disturb you.”
Again
. The word went unspoken but hung heavy in the air between them.

“Besides, she was not here to see you, she was here to see me,” Alex added with a cheeky look that transformed quickly into a haughty glare as she prodded Sophie along.

Andrew followed them into the room, trying to convince himself that the gathering would still work in his favor, even as his eyes wandered uncontrollably to Sophie’s silk-clad backside. His fingers itched to skim over the soft material, peel it off and see if the prize underneath was as soft as he imagined. Flexing his hands, he pushed the thought away, then forced his eyes up. The amount of effort it took annoyed him. He entered in their wake, gaze scanning the room. One look at the surprised smile Lady Abigail offered at their entrance told him everything he needed to know. He was in trouble.
Big trouble
.