Someone bumped into Sophie, and she ushered Kate forward so that they were standing beside the wall with Lady Arundel, out of the way of passersby.
“Have you heard about the Duke of Wight?” Lady Arundel asked conspiratorially.
“No,” Sophie said, unable to help herself. “Has something happened?”
God forbid the man had chosen another wife. He’d already married three—all of whom were now dead. Sophie wasn’t particularly superstitious, but one didn’t need to be to see that something bad was going on there.
Lady Arundel glanced left and right, then leaned closer and lowered her voice. “He passed away last night.”
“Really?” The question burst from her before she could restrain it. “Who will the estate go to?”
He had no heirs, after all. None of his wives had managed to produce one. Most of thetonhad determined that the problem must lie with him, but he hadn’t believed that, marrying younger and younger women under the insistence that one of them would bear him a son.
Lady Arundel turned her hand palm up. “A distant cousin, I’m given to believe.”
Kate turned to Sophie. “Perhaps the new Duke of Wight will be a young gentleman with roguish charm, and he’ll whisk you away to be his duchess.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “That is called a fantasy, my dear Kate. A lovely one, I grant you, but a fantasy nonetheless.”
There would be no dashing duke, able to make her forget Nicholas. His claws were sunk too deeply into her heart, and he didn’t even realize it.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Sophie.”
Sophie glanced at the gentleman who’d stopped in front of her and bit the inside of her cheek, hoping he hadn’t overheard her last remark.
It was Jonathan Adair, the second son of Baron Marwick. He was of average height, with a gentle smile and the sort of steadfast presence she imagined someone like Kate might find attractive.
Sophie, however, did not. She refused to find any of the Adair brothers attractive because of how Marcus, the youngest, had abandoned Emma following Violet’s scandal.
She curtsied. “Good evening, Mr. Adair.”
He offered her his hand. “I’ve been told a cotillion is about to begin. Will you join me?”
She laid her hand on his, doing her best to school her features so he wouldn’t see her reluctance. Based on how his smile fell, she doubted she’d succeeded.
“It’s rather stuffy in here, isn’t it?” Jonathan asked as he guided her into the starting position on the area of floor thathad been cleared for dancing. “I hope they’ll open the balcony doors later to let some cooler air flow through.”
“I’m sure they will.” Although Sophie herself had sworn off balconies after Kate’s reputation was ruined because she was caught alone on one with her now husband.
“Do you enjoy the heat?” he asked as the song began and they started to move.
“Much more than the cold.” And more than this stilted small talk.
At least Mr. Adair danced well.
He peppered her with inane questions every time they drew close enough to speak without being overheard, and she answered because it was easier to do so than to express her frustration with the limited topics society deemed to be acceptable conversation for unmarried misses.
Her chest loosened and she breathed easier as he returned her to Kate and Lady Arundel, who were deep in discussion about Lady Hampstead’s choice of decor. He took his leave, and she was relieved to be free of his company.
He was exactly the sort of young man to whom her mother would love to marry her off, and the thought made her stomach churn and roil.
“There are just a few too many different colors,” Kate was saying to Lady Arundel. “The maroon, gold, and cream of the room is very elegant, but combined with the pink, purple, and white flowers, it’s a bit too much.”
“Not to mention all the greenery,” Lady Arundel replied, looking pointedly at a shrub that took up an entire alcove. “The food is divine, though, and the drinks are fresh and cool.”
Kate nodded. “The string quartet plays well. Do you think they’d be opposed to working with a pianist?”
Sophie wondered if Kate was planning an event of her own. Perhaps that was what she’d been working on sosecretively. If so, Sophie wouldn’t press for information now. Her friend could tell her when she was ready to.
