‘Does he have no backbone of his own?’
Her smile finally became a grin. ‘Sadly not.’
‘It is a risky policy. What if the lady in question can overlook his terrible fashion sense and his lack of spine?’ It amazed him that he was able to carry on this conversation when everything inside him was urging him to close the gap between them.
‘Ah, he need not worry. If Lord James was paying attention, he would know that she will not look twice at him. She is another lady who admires your brother greatly.’
‘Which one?’ He had a horrible feeling she was going to say Tobias again.
‘The duke, of course.’ She had been, damn it. Why couldn’t it be one of his married brothers everyone found attractive? So besotted with their wives were they, those two wouldn’t look twice at another woman, but Tobias had to be searching for a duchess even if he wasgiving no sign of doing it. Like it or not, it was his duty to provide an heir so that the line continued father to son as it had for hundreds of years. Christopher tugged on his cravat. It was damned hot and why he had to tie one of these around his neck, he had no idea, just as he had no idea why it bothered him that Sophia kept telling him his older brother was attractive. It mattered not a jot. ‘And before you ask again,’ she continued, oblivious to his mental wrangling, ‘I am sure that becoming a duchess has some part to play in his appeal for some of his admirers but not all. There was great excitement over the cut of his coat at yet another soiree last night. I understand his shoulders were universally found to be superior to those of all other unwed male attendees.’
Damn it all to hell. Christopher should have gone to that event; the flimsy excuse he had given his sister-in-law for not attending appeared foolish now in the light of day. What did it matter if he did not enjoy that sort of thing? If his betrothed was at events, he should be there. It might stop the unpleasant, twisty sensation writhing in his gut at the thought that she might have been one of Tobias’ admirers. And why would she not? She had not tried to dissemble when pressed as to whether his brother was a handsome man, or words to that effect. Now that she was engaged to him, Sophia would never be able to marry the duke even when her arrangement with Christopher fell through. Still, it would be hard to be around her for the next five weeks if she had any sort of tendre for Tobias. Part of him did not want to ask the next question; the other part of him was desperate to know the answer. ‘Did you agree with them?’
It took forever for her to answer.
‘I did not attend last night. I had planned on it, but Mama had a headache and so I volunteered to stay at home with her.’
That reply should have satisfied the snake that seemed to be twisting through him, but it didn’t. It didn’t address the question he’d been trying to ask as to whether she would have found Tobias pleasing to the eye had she seen him. But to bluntly ask that would only open up a far more dangerous question: Why did he care about the answer so much?
He didn’t, or at least he hoped that was the truth. Any other reason was too alarming to contemplate. No, it was fine. It wasn’t that he was jealous. He wasn’t keen on spending time with someone mooning over the duke; that was all there was to it. He liked his oldest brother well enough, but nobody wanted to be confronted with that all the time. Putting the thought out of his mind and turning away from her to study the path rather than Sophia’s soft curves, he changed the subject completely. Far better to talk to her about practical matters than dwell on anything romantic.
By the time they were circling back to the main house, they had a plan as to what they would be doing together over the course of their betrothal but were no further to finding a way out of their predicament. Perhaps because he had laughed so much in her company, he had forgotten there was anything to be concerned about. Sophia had a way of saying something accompanied by different types of smiles: innocent, wicked, sly and teasing, and somehow it made what she said funnier or lighter or downright charming. He found himself asking her more about herself than he had ever asked anyone, just to draw out the facial expressions that accompanied the answers. And when she teased him, his answering laughter seemed to come from deep within him.
‘Are you sure I cannot tempt you into a game of pall-mall?’ he said as they neared the house, not quite ready to go inside and deal with the rest of his family. Ever since Mr Hornel’s last letter, the house hadbeen full of a palpable sadness that even living with two sets of blissfully married couples couldn’t alleviate. Walking in the gardens with Sophia was the first time in days that he had not felt the weight of it against his skin. He was sad too, of course. It was bringing back the memory of discovering his brother had died, which was even worse than when he had left in the first place. On top of that, there was the never-ending guilt that he should have done something, should have been there to stop it from happening, all the while knowing that his brother hadn’t wanted him there. If he had, he would have written at least once in the ten years of his absence. But Sebastian had cut ties with him as easily as he had his other brothers. And spending time with Sophia meant that he didn’t have to dwell on this, and when she smiled, the dark presence at the back of his mind finally faded away.
‘I will play pall-mall with you if you are sure you can withstand the crushing humiliation of losing.’ Her wicked smile followed and he felt it in the centre of his chest.
‘Excellent.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Are you content to wait here while I collect the equipment?’
‘I do not think anyone would mind waiting in this garden.’
For one wistful second Christopher wished she would look at him in the same way she was regarding her surroundings, but he dismissed the thought quickly. All this thinking about Sebastian was making him sentimental, which was unlike him indeed. A game of pall-mall, which he would undoubtedly lose because he did not have the patience to employ any tactics, was sure to take his mind off it.
It did not take him long to find what he was looking for; Lotte loved to attempt to play and so everything was kept near to the green. Whistling softly to himself, he made his way back, stopping short when he caught sight of Sophia. With her face turned to the sun, a softsmile on her face, she took his breath away. It was a wonder he had never noticed her in a ballroom before; she was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. That smile was enough to send any man to his knees. How was it that she was unmarried? This had to be her second or third Season and no man had had the intelligence to court her seriously before now? Surely that could not be the case. Any man would be lucky to have her by his side for the rest of their lives. And then there was this Robert Harber, the man she believed she was going to marry. He had to be the most witless man in England not to realise she was waiting for a proposal from him and to come and snap her up straight away.
He must have made some sound, because she turned and, as she caught sight of him, her smile grew wide. His heart stuttered alarmingly and he rubbed his chest vigorously.Thatcould not happen again. It was fine to think she was beautiful and worthy of marriage in an abstract way, quite another to develop some sort of infatuation.
‘I was beginning to think you had run coward,’ she called to him.
‘I should challenge you to a duel for such slander.’ This was more like it; he was the king of light, meaningless flirtation.
‘Then shall we begin?’
Her fingers brushed his as she took her mallet from him, but if the brief contact caused a rush of goosebumps along his skin, he was going to ignore it.
‘Which colour would you like to be?’ he asked.
‘Blue, if you please.’
‘Excellent. Yellow is my lucky colour.’ It wasn’t. The last time he had played against Edward using this ball, he’d lost so badly that his brother had laughed so hard, he’d cried. Years ago, Christopher would have resented that amusement, but now he knew how Edward’s relaxed happiness was a hard-won thing he didn’t begrudge itcompletely. Only slightly. He had practised a bit afterwards. There was amusement and then there was pride.
Unfortunately, Sophia hadn’t been exaggerating her skill. By the time they were on the third wicket he was falling prey to all her tactics. ‘I thought you were lying when you said you were bad.’ She laughed as he accidentally clipped his ball twice, earning him a fault.
‘Perhaps I am being a gentleman and letting you win.’
Her laughter burst out of her, wild and free, and his heart leapt about wildly in his chest. ‘Please do not feel you have to spare my feelings,’ she said when her giggles subsided. ‘I am not so waspish that I cannot take losing to a better player. Incidentally—’ she tapped her chin as if thinking deeply ‘—how many of your shots have gone in the correct direction?’
‘Almost all.’ That was not true. He was fairly sure that almost none had gone where he was intending. If he were honest, he was barely paying attention to the game. She rewarded him with a delighted smile for his untruth, which was almost as good as scoring a point. It was fair to say he wasn’t the best player in the world, or, in fact, at Glanmore House, but he was normally better than absolutely awful. Today, however, he appeared to be hellbent on being an utter disaster, and, as no one could see into his head, he was able to admit to himself precisely why he was distracted. It wasn’t one thing exactly. Although, he supposed it was down to one person. Sophia was delighted with the way she was playing. Every good shot she made, every tactic that worked against him, was accompanied by a hand clap or several. His favourite move she made was a delighted wiggle of the shoulders when she thought he wasn’t looking. It was far more adorable than it should have been, and he found himself watching for it out of the corner of his eye when he should have been concentrating on his own shot.
