Chapter Nine
Roxboro was intoxicated.
He had to be.
Sophia cocked her head, studying her unwanted betrothed and the half glass of scotch at his elbow that Powell kept filled without Roxboro asking.
Under the circumstances, Sophia didn’t blame him for drinking endless amounts of scotch during this dinner; had she been able, she would have waved away the few glasses of wine Mama allotted her and gone right to something a bit stronger. Fortitude and courage was required for this evening. What did it matter if Sophia found it in a bottle?
But despite the amount of scotch Roxboro consumed while enjoying the roasted duck, he never once appeared drunk. His hands, with their long, elegant fingers, never wavered. Not a bit of sloppiness. No slurred word. Didn’t miss his mouth and poke his eye out with a fork. Cut his meat without slicing off a finger. Both of which would have made things interesting.
Impressive.
Roxboro’s eyes, those glorious orbs that sent young ladies for the smelling salts, were the exact color of lichen where it clung to a rock in the forest, the striations of gray deepening as they passed over Sophia.
It would be impossible to mistake him for anyone else.
“He’s exceptionally handsome,” Mara pinched Sophia’s thigh. “I can see why Mercy Eldridge wrote a poem about his eyes.”
“That hurt. And Mercy is an idiot.”
“True,” her sister agreed. “Though she does have a way with words. There was much sighing and pressing a palm to her heart as she recited the poem to me.”
Ugh.
“His tolerance for drink is quite remarkable.”
Would Mara never shut up? “I don’t think that’s a compliment. Given his pursuits and the company the duke keeps, one would expect he enjoys spirits.”
“Not to mention,” Mara continued, undeterred. “His legion of conquests.” Her voice lowered further. “Of which you, dear sister, are the most recent.”
“Yes, I believe that has been established.” Sophia lowered her fork and pressed it into Mara’s knee.
Her sister’s leg jolted. “Poor Mama. Torn between disappointment at the scandal you created, utter disbelief it was Roxboro who conquered you and the thrill that she’ll soon be a duchess.”
“I was notconquered,”Sophia whispered back. “Nor am I a castle to be stormed. There was no grand seduction as you well know. It wasbarelya kiss. I’ve told you so repeatedly. Lord Wilde has taken more liberties. With you.”
Mara’s lips rippled. She smoothed her hair though not one strand was out of place. Two signs she was about to tell a lie.
“An exaggeration. Even so, at least I was wise enough to make sure Lady Brokeburst was nowhere in the vicinity. I heard her tell Mama, before Roxboro decided to be honorable, that you were clasped in a torrid embrace. Bent over his arm passionately.” Mara glanced at Roxboro. “How…stimulating.”
“Lady Brokeburst saw nothing of the kind, because it never happened. She’s beastly. I blame her for this entire affair. And then Papa with his ridiculous tale of Roxboro and I courting in secret. I think I would rather be a pariah.”
“You should thank Lady Brokeburst for making you a duchess.” Mara nodded. “And as for Papa’s little tale, parroted by Lord Damon and even Roxboro himself, not one soul believes it, as my set down of Miss Newsome proves. Most believe the duke was so in his cups he might have thought you one of his paramours and followed you to the gardens. You, in a burst of ruthlessness because you are Lord Canterbell’s daughter, took advantage.” Mara looked up to make sure Mama wasn’t listening. “I don’t blame you,” she continued in a low tone. “Nor do any of the ladies I’ve encountered, though they drip with jealousy. He’s dreadfully good looking, a duke and wealthy. The rumors of his…debauched nature have only titillated, not put off anyone.” Mara turned to spear a piece of the duck. “You saw an opportunity. Given your prospects on the marriage mart…” the words trailed off with a shrug of her sister’s shoulders.
“I did not.” Sophia sputtered, horrified that even Mara thought her capable of such treachery. “He’s a sot and an overindulged, arrogant cad. Hardly the catch of the Season.”
“There are many who would disagree. Not on the first part of your statement, but the last.”
Mama cleared her throat subtly, a signal that she’d seen their heads bent together and didn’t care for it.
“Even I would be tempted,” Mara picked at the duck. “Just look at him. Or,” she turned her sights on Roxboro’s uncle. “Lord Damon.”
“Mara.” Mama cautioned from her place at the table.
“I must confess,” Lord Damon drawled as he sat back in his chair. “This is the finest meal I’ve had in some time, Lady Canterbell. The duck was nothing short of extraordinary. I don’t suppose I could steal your cook?” he teased.
“My lord. You flatter me,” Mama stated humbly, but her cheeks pinked at his attention.
