Archibald nodded and gestured to the woman at his side. She had well-balanced features with dark eyes and a generous mouth. “Please allow me to introduce my fiancée, Miss Darlene Heard. Miss Heard, this reprobate is Mr. Nicholas Blackwell.”
Miss Heard smiled prettily and curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Nicholas bowed. “Likewise, Miss Heard. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”
“Thank you.” She darted a look at Archibald and whispered, “Between us, I’ll be glad when it’s done and we’re married. Mother is impossible to deal with at present.”
A slow grin stole across Nicholas’s face. He had a feeling he was going to like this woman. “I’m sure it will be over before you know it.”
Archibald cleared his throat, drawing Nicholas’s attention. “Am I to understand that you’ve changed your stance on marriage?”
For a moment, Nicholas didn’t understand what he was getting at, but when Archibald gestured pointedly toward thedance floor, where he’d been with Sophie, his meaning sank in.
“I wouldn’t say I’ve changed my stance, exactly,” he hedged, uncertain how to respond without either giving away the ruse or making himself look like a cad. “I’m… in the process of re-evaluating.”
Miss Heard glanced down and then raised her chin shyly. “If Lady Sophie Carlisle has anything to do with your thoughtfulness on the matter, I must approve. She is charming.”
Nicholas frowned. “Are you friends?”
“No.” She sighed. “I believe I’m too dull to merit her attention—but she’s always so lively and kind to those around her. She improves a room upon entering.”
He studied her keenly. “You’re a very sweet sort of person, aren’t you?”
She blushed.
“Don’t flirt with my bride, you rogue,” Archibald drawled, a hint of warning in his tone.
“I wouldn’t dare.” He backed away slightly to reassure his friend. “But I think you might be surprised, Miss Heard. You don’t strike me as being dull, and I suspect Lady Sophie would feel the same.”
She ducked her head. “That’s nice of you to say.”
Nicholas blew out an exasperated breath.
Nice.
He wasn’t known for being nice. What on earth was the world coming to?
Archibald tsked. “I think you may have competition for Lady Sophie’s affections.”
Nicholas spun around, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Sophie swaying in Baron Sylvestor’s arms. “Not for long,” he snapped, like the eager suitor he was supposed to be. “Lovely to see you both, but I must be off.”
He stalked to the edge of the dance floor and lingeredthere until the dance ended. Baron Sylvestor tucked Sophie’s hand into the crook of his arm and looked set to keep her to himself, but Nicholas intercepted them, doing his best to keep his usual unaffected expression in place despite the fact his teeth were gritted hard enough that his jaw ached.
“Lady Sophie.” He bowed to her. “You dance so gracefully that it seems a shame to stop. Will you grant me the next one?”
Her forehead creased briefly, but she schooled her features before he could interpret what the flicker of emotion might mean. “Of course, Mr. Blackwell.”
Baron Sylvestor released his grip on her, and she and Nicholas took up a position among the other dancers waiting to begin. There was a question in her eyes—one he couldn’t even begin to answer—so he looked up at the ceiling to avoid it.
Unfortunately, he stared directly into the glittering light of the chandelier and had to squeeze his eyes shut as it temporarily blinded him. When he opened them, his gaze was once again on Sophie.
She stood before him, wreathed in light, her chin tilted up and her pink lips curved in a way that hinted at amusement.
Attraction punched him in the gut.
Damn, he wanted her.
Sucking in a breath, he received a lungful of her scent, which reminded him of walking through the gardens at Blackwell Hall in the morning while the rose petals were damp with dew and the day was only beginning, full of possibility.
