Sophie inclined her head, understanding more than he said. The situation was likely as she’d thought. Mr. Garfield was interested in her status and, possibly, utilizing her connection with her father and the Duke of Ashford.
“I have no interest in him anyway,” she said quietly. “He’s too… young.”
Nicholas chuckled, his hand skimming her waist as they moved. “You’reyoung.”
She caught his gaze, and a spark of something passed between them. “Not like he is. Women are expected to mature faster, and we do.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgement, and the conversation dropped off.
For the rest of the dance, she simply enjoyed being in Nicholas’s arms. Holding his hand—even if there was a blasted silk barrier between them. Smelling hints of citrus each time they drew near to each other.
It was both a blessing and a curse to spend time with him like this. She cherished every second together, but it only made her more aware of what she wouldn’t have in the future.
When the dance concluded, she disentangled herself from him and excused herself, hurrying over to the refreshments table.
She needed room to breathe.
She picked up a glass of lemonade and drank half of it in a few gulps, then slowed, checking warily to ensure her mother hadn’t witnessed her unladylike behavior.
A head of blond hair caught her eye. Baron Sylvestor was making his way toward her. His bright eyes locked on hers, and he smiled, baring straight white teeth.
Coming to a stop in front of her, he bowed. “Is your next dance unclaimed, Lady Sophie?”
“It is.” She sipped the lemonade, reluctant to put it down.
“May I have the honor?”
She started to set the glass back on the table, but he waved his hand airily.
“No need to rush,” he said, moving around to stand beside her, facing the dancers. “Feel free to finish your drink first. The next dance will do just as well as this one.”
A genuine smile curved the edges of her mouth. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Think nothing of it, Lady Sophie.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him glance at her.
“Am I to understand that you’ll be attending the Wembleys’ unusual mid-season house party?”
“I intend to,” she replied, her breath catching. She doubted he’d simply heard that as gossip, which meant he must have asked about her. “Will you also attend?”
“Yes. Trevor—that’s Lord Wembley’s oldest son—is one of my former school friends. Since he has no responsibilities in London and prefers the country, I don’t see him as often as I’d like. I’m looking forward to visiting with him.”
“I’m not sure that I’ve met him.” Although if he didn’t come to London, that was hardly surprising. She emptied her glass and set it aside. “Shall we dance?”
Baron Sylvestor took her arm and guided her onto the dance floor. Heat radiated from his body, and she did her best to notice the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his hands, but no matter how hard she tried, he still stirred absolutely no attraction or romantic interest within her.
How inconvenient.
When Sophie abandonedhim and Nicholas found himself abruptly without company, he looked around for any acquaintance he might actually want to speak with.
Fortunately, Lucas Archibald stood nearby with a short, slightly plump brunette. Nicholas made his way over, plastering a friendly smile on his face.
“Good evening, Archibald.” He nodded respectfully and glanced at Archibald’s companion. “Won’t you introduce us?”
Archibald’s eyebrow inched up his forehead. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. This isn’t your usual scene.”
One side of Nicholas’s mouth hitched up. “It seems I’m turning up in all kinds of places I didn’t expect recently.”
