The spring breeze had picked up while they’d been playing pall-mall. As they rode along the streets of London the wind tugged at the ties of Sophia’s bonnet, trying to pull it from her head. No sooner had she tightened the ribbons, the wind tugged them loose again. Annoying though the action was, it provided a little relief from thinking of the man sitting next to her. After an afternoon filled with laughter and chatter, they had fallen into a deep, rather uncomfortable silence. As each new topic of conversation popped into her mind, she dismissed it as either too boring or too trivial or just not right to say to a man who had completely changed the way she thought about him in the space of a few hours.
Everything that had happened since he had collected her from her family home earlier that afternoon had defied her expectations. Instead of a brief ride in Hyde Park where the crème de la crème could see them as a couple, which was to her mind the whole purpose ofanytime spent together, they had been together in private, not just at home with his family but alone. All the fashionable set would have seen them in Hyde Park with her looking troubled followed by a slightly stern-faced Christopher cutting short their ride, which may work in their favour in the long run. If people believed Christopher had not treated her properly, then her ending the betrothal mightgarner some sympathy rather than utter disgrace. But the idea did not sit right with her. Rather than being unpleasant towards her, Christopher had been a delight. As they had walked around the garden together, with him making her laugh at every turn, her whole body had felt light and joyful.
If she had been proper and true, she should have asked to go home when he had offered, or at the least insisted she take tea with his sisters-in-law in line with his suggestion. There had been no reason for her to visit Glanmore House with him and in doing so she may have made things harder for herself in the long term. Harder, because they had ended up acting like a couple who were properly betrothed. Well, not quite. There had been no stolen kisses, no accidental-on-purpose touching. He had not whispered sweet nothings in her ear and she had not flirted with him; at least she didn’t think she had. They had laughed together, proper deep-bellied laughs that had filled her with an almost bubbly ease. As if her veins were filled with champagne. And there had been a moment when she had reached up and plucked petals from his hair when his eyes had glazed and she had thought that he might have swayed towards her. But she had probably imagined it. In fact, it was more than likely, because he was not the sort of man who would dally with an innocent lady. He may not be sensible all of the time, but he was not cruel. And she had no intention of trapping him into making this a real engagement either. If he had tried to kiss her, she would have put a stop to it. It wouldn’t have mattered how delicious his lips looked or how the sunlight coming through the tree branches had highlighted his sharp cheekbones in a way that made her fingers itch to feel the soft skin over bone for herself. She would not make a cake of herself in front of a man who never had any intention of marrying her. But there had been that thought, the softest hint in her mind that she could kiss him, that it wouldn’t be the worstthing in the world to have his lips on hers, that if she did, no one need know. And those words, words she did not want to acknowledge, were upsetting her equilibrium, because nothing had changed. She still had no intention of marrying a man to whom life was one big joke, and he had no intention of marrying at all.
If only little Lotte hadn’t made that comment at the end. The one that had made all three brothers freeze, the one about Christopher looking at her dress all the time, because it had sent her thoughts scattering. She could not stop thinking about whether he had thought about kissing her too. Christopher hadn’t said much to her since Lotte’s statement, and breaking through the silence that was building up between them was becoming increasingly difficult. Because she wasn’tthatnaive. Christopher hadn’t been looking at her because he liked her dress, but because he liked the look ofherin the dress. And that compliment, the one that had not been said, went to her head as much as if she’d drunk some champagne. Even if it meant nothing, other than he thought she looked pretty in that moment, it was heady praise indeed. It was not often one was admired by one of the highly eligible Dashworth brothers. Once all this was over, and Christopher was off on his travels around the world, she would remember how it had made her feel. It was something to giggle about with friends in years to come, when this pretend engagement was long forgotten.
Eventually, she could bear the silence no longer. ‘When are we going to talk about Kissyfur?’
His lips twitched and a shot of triumph ran through her. ‘Never.’
‘Not ever?’
‘No.’ He was fighting his smile. His ability to find the humour in almost anything was one of the things she liked best about him.
‘But it is a truly adorable version of your name, which I am sure will catch on quickly in social circles. I believe it will change your reputation from that of rogue to loveable uncle.’
‘Luckily for me, no one in Society will ever know that my niece cannot pronounce my name properly and so I have nothing to worry about on that front.’
‘But what if I let it slip? My sisters are not known for their discretion.’
His dimple was creased, a sure sign that he was amused, but he managed to keep his voice steady. ‘I know that you are a good and proper young lady who would never divulge anything you have seen or heard in private to your sisters.’
She tapped her chin, pretending to give it some thought. ‘It is going to cost you.’
He shot her a dark look from the corner of his eyes. ‘Well, well, Miss Jacobs, who would have thought you were a blackmailer?’
‘Now, now, Lord Christopher, there is no need for this to turn ugly. I am sure I can think of some appropriate payment.’
He laughed, his big belly laugh, the one that had caused her veins to fizz earlier. ‘Flowers?’
‘An engaged man should send flowers anyway.’
‘I see.’ He shifted the reins into one hand and scratched his nose with the free one. ‘More ices from Gunter’s?’
‘Hm, that is a good start. But is it really enough for a secret this big?’
His laughter was fast becoming one of her favourite sounds. ‘Before we reach your home,’ he said, ‘I wanted to thank you for this afternoon. We had some family news a few days ago, news that has upset us all, and this afternoon you made me forget about it for a time. I have enjoyed myself and I hope you have too.’
‘I…’ His honest, heartfelt confession was so at odds with what she had been expecting him to say that her mind emptied of words once more.
‘I apologise. I did not mean to make you feel awkward.’ He dropped his hand to his lap, smoothing out the fabric of his pantaloons. There was a faint dusting of pink on his cheekbones, and she realised that she had never read a man so wrong. Before this false engagement, she had listened to the rumours about him and believed, without question, that Christopher had not a care in the world. That he was carefree and uncaring and a bit of a wastrel. The type of man whom mothers warned their daughters not to become too fond of because they would only break your heart. The more time they spent together, the clearer it became to her that he was not at all as she had perceived. It shamed her that she had been guilty of succumbing to unfair gossip, especially when she had always prided herself on being above such a thing. This was a man who hid his goodness and his genuine heart behind a mask of foolish antics. She wondered if he even realised himself that he did so.
They were about to turn into the street which housed her parents’ home, and she only had moments to think of something to say before her sisters assailed them. ‘If you ever want to talk about your news, I will listen, and I would never say anything to anyone. I was teasing you about Kissyfur. I hope you know that.’
He slowly brought the greys to a stop. They hadn’t turned into her avenue yet, but it hardly mattered when he was looking down at her, his dark eyes searching her face. Behind her, her maid held herself still, there to chaperone but not to interrupt, and Sophia had never been more grateful for her presence. Without her there, she might have reached over and run her fingers along Christopher’s jaw. Instead, shegazed up at him, hoping her sincerity showed on her features. They may not marry, but she hoped they were becoming friends.
‘Thank you, Sophia,’ he said eventually. ‘I…’ He shook his head, turning away from her and starting the greys back up.
She shifted on the seat, wanting, more than anything, to know what he had been about to say before he had stopped himself. She could ask, but if he hadn’t wanted to tell her, forcing him would be wrong. But if she…
‘Whose carriage is that?’ asked Christopher, cutting into her thoughts.
Sophia looked up from where she had been studying her hands. A cold wave washed over her when she saw the vehicle Christopher was asking about, a wave that felt like dread but couldn’t be, because this was what she’d wanted to happen all along. ‘That is Robert Harber’s carriage,’ she said, her voice sounding to her as if it were coming from a long way away.
Christopher straightened and, after a beat, said, ‘Excellent. I told you he would arrive at news of our betrothal and here he is. Quicker even than I thought he would be. No doubt he has come to challenge me to a duel or some such.’
Sophia didn’t know Christopher well enough to say for sure, but his smile did not look entirely natural, or perhaps that was her putting her own feelings on him. She should be thrilled that Robert was at her home, should be urging Christopher to drive faster, but she wasn’t ready for this, hadn’t prepared herself for how to act or what to say. If anything, she wanted Christopher to keep driving, to give her time to come to terms with what was about to happen.
