“Good.” Her hand fluttered over her chest. “You know you need to be careful.”
He smiled through clenched teeth. “I’m not likely to ever forget it. I’m quite certain that fear has driven you to build the possible consequences out of proportion in your mind, but I do know your opinion, and I’ll behave accordingly.”
As if her whims didn’t already dictate most of his actions.
She inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring, and his gut curled in dread. Oh, no. She was going to throw another tantrum.
“Mother, I’m being careful,” he assured her. “I always am.”
“Are you?” Her voice was so shrill, it hurt his ears. “Because I don’t think you are. Need I remind you of how easily society casts aside women who make a single misstep? As a man, you cannot possibly understand.”
He inclined his head because yes, that was true. He wasn’t a woman and didn’t share their limitations. However, he didn’t think he was entirely wrong either.
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten how quickly thetonmoves on from a scandal?” he suggested.
Her face crumpled. “Please, Nicholas. Don’t push this. For my sake.”
He sighed. “I’ve already said that I won’t.”
Although he had to wonder: Why did he have to put his life on hold to protect hers?
CHAPTER 3
“Arethere any particular gentlemen you wish to dance with tonight?” Lady Carlisle asked from where she sat on the ottoman at the foot of Sophie’s bed.
Sophie’s instinctive response was to say, “No,” but her mother wouldn’t be pleased by that. She was trying to give Sophie time to choose her own husband and was definitely exerting less pressure than she had on Violet and Emma, but her patience was wearing thin. New cracks appeared in it with each passing day.
“Baron Sylvestor asked me to save him a dance,” she said, hoping her mother wouldn’t ask when they’d spoken, since she’d still not mentioned her solo jaunt in Hyde Park. “He seems nice.”
Facing the dressing table mirror with her back to Lady Carlisle, Sophie couldn’t see her expression, but she imagined that her mother was surprised that Sophie had offered an opinion on any gentleman at all. Usually, she did her best to refrain, knowing that any indication of preference would only encourage her mother.
Nicholas, her heart cried.I want Nicholas.
Unfortunately, Nicholas had long since declared hisintention not to marry, and he’d given no hint that he might have changed his mind.
“The baron is very handsome,” Lady Carlisle said, a warmth in her voice that wasn’t usually there. “And you already know I like the dowager baroness. He respects her greatly, and you can always tell a good deal about a man from how he treats his mother.”
“Remind me where he’s from.” She’d probably been told at some point, but she rarely remembered facts about people unless she was particularly interested in them.
“Lincolnshire, I believe. Or maybe Nottinghamshire. Somewhere northwest, in any case.”
“Interesting.” Sophie had never visited that part of the country. She had no idea whether she’d like it or not.
She winced as Betsy twisted a strand of her hair too tightly.
“Sorry, my lady,” Betsy murmured, releasing it instantly and starting again. She was in the process of dressing Sophie’s hair for the Hampstead ball. She’d arranged most of it in an elaborate display of braids knotted together on the back of Sophie’s head and was now curling the strands that remained free to frame her face.
Many of the pins holding the braids together were bejeweled with tiny sapphires that matched Sophie’s eyes, and the gown she’d chosen for tonight was also a rich shade of blue.
Designed by Kate, of course.
Betsy pinned the last of the curls into place and stepped aside so that Sophie could study her reflection. Pale skin, her freckles proudly on display because she refused to wear powder, and pops of blue amid the red of her hair.
“Excellent work, Betsy,” her mother said. “Shall we get her dressed?”
Betsy curtsied. “Yes, my lady.”
Sophie looked down at her lap and smirked. Betsy wasmuch more deferential when Lady Carlisle was around than when it was just the two of them.
