As Luck Would Have It (24 page)

“Alex.”

“Right. Well, Kate and Mirabelle took it to mind to go out on the lake as well. They stole off with the only other boat—”

“Borrowed.”

“Fine. They
borrowed
the remaining boat and in less than five minutes managed to ram the vessel straight into the unsuspecting Whit and lovely Miss Wilheim.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Quite. A tremendous to-do followed. Whit, besotted fool that he was, had been so occupied gazing at his future bride that he hadn’t noticed the girls’ approach, nor had he the prudence to keep a firm grip on the oars. He lost them both in the collision. And while I’m sure he would have been perfectly happy to spend the rest of the day, and certainly the night, trapped with Miss Wilheim in a small boat, he was sensible
enough to realize that the young lady would undoubtedly feel differently about the matter. So, in an attempt to take control of the situation, he demanded that the girls turn over their oars, so that he might row his guest to shore and then return to collect the children.”

“Seems reasonable.”

“Not to a pair of frightened little girls. They were utterly terrified of Whit’s wrath, and he was visibly upset at the time. They were certain he would abandon them in the lake as revenge for the accident. They refused to turn over the oars.”

“That can’t have soothed his temper.”

“Indeed it did not. He started in on Kate immediately, berating her for her already legendary clumsiness. It was terribly unfair of him, as each girl had an oar and was equally responsible, but that fact was lost on him at the time, and he chastised her until the poor chit started crying. Mirabelle has always been uncommonly protective of Kate and she simply would not abide Whit’s behavior. She stood up, oar in hand, and positively roasted Whit. The girl’s always had a tongue like a rapier, for all that she generally keeps it in check. By the time she was through, Whit’s ears were exceedingly red at the tips.”

Alex chuckled at the memory. “Poor Whit. Reduced to shamefaced silence by a mere slip of a girl. He was mortified, furious, and he acted on instinct, reaching over and grabbing Mirabelle’s oar.”

“Oh, no.”

“Precisely what Mirabelle said with an added ‘you don’t’ at the end. She had an impressive grip for a ten-year-old, and she pulled that oar back with every shred of strength she owned. Whit came right along with it.”

“Oh, heavens,” Sophie laughed.

“It gets better. He wasn’t fully standing, and as he went over his knees caught on the side of the boat.” Alex demonstrated Whit’s unfortunate predicament with a brief pantomime of his hands. “The girls screamed. Miss Wilheim
screamed. Hell, Whit may very well have screamed, but he was already half submerged, so we’ll never know.”

“Oh, dear Lord!” Sophie was laughing hard enough to draw attention to herself, but she didn’t care.

“And
that
is precisely what the lovely Miss Wilheim screamed. Right before she was tossed headfirst into the water.”

“How awful.” She was barely able to get the words out between fits of giggles.

“I found it rather amusing from my standpoint on shore.”

“I’m certain you did. What ever happened?”

“Well, the girls beat a hasty retreat to the far shore and disappeared into the house. Whit was forced to assist the now considerably less lovely Miss Wilheim to shore. Fortunately, the water only came up to her chin so she was never in any real danger. But they did look a sight, covered in green. And she rather like a disembodied head, complete with bonnet of course, bobbing in the water like a cork.”

Sophie felt tears of mirth on her cheeks. “The poor thing. Was she very angry?”

“She and her mother packed up and left that very afternoon.”

“Really? That’s a bit unforgiving. I suppose Whit blames Mirabelle for the loss of his one true love.”

“He did, for a few months, until it finally reached his ears that the girl was a vain and spiteful little thing. But there was still the matter of his damaged pride, and by the time the two hotheads calmed down enough to realize the absurdity of the situation, more than enough cruel words had passed between them to render the rift unbreachable. They’ve continued on in the same fashion ever since, tolerating each other’s company, and barely that, for the sake of mutual loved ones.”

“Hmm,” Sophie murmured. “Seems to me Whit should have thanked Mirabelle for saving him from a disastrous union.”

“He might someday, if she ever gets around to apologizing for tossing him into the lake.”

“She never did?”

“No, she insists it was nothing more than he deserved for behaving so poorly to Kate.”

“I see. It’s a shame they’re both so stubborn.”

“Stubborn, I believe, is far too tame a word for the pair. Unfathomably mule-headed suits better, I think.”

“That’s more than one word.”

“In this particular case, more than one is required. I stand by them.”

Sophie frowned in thought. “It’s odd,” she mused, “that I’ve never heard so much as a hint of this before.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s a rather long tale.”

She shook her head. “I meant their general feelings toward each other. I’ve spent a good deal of time in Kate and Mirabelle’s company since coming to London. Naturally, Whit has been a topic of conversation on more than one occasion, and I’ve never heard Mirabelle say anything unkind or—”

“Just Whit?” Alex asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Is Whit the only
natural
topic of conversation?”

“Don’t be absurd, we discuss a great many things.”

Alex’s eyebrows went up expectantly.

“Including you,” Sophie finally admitted with a roll of her eyes. “But we are not discussing you right now—”

“Oh, but we should. I’m a great deal more interesting.”

“You’re a great deal more
something
,” Sophie replied.

“Handsome?” he offered with a grin. “Dangerous?” he guessed, leaning toward her. “Irresistible?” he very nearly purred.

Sophie leaned away from him, her eyes darting frantically about the terrace. “Alex—”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “They’ve all gone in.”

And with that rather unromantic, but nonetheless thoughtful reassurance, he took her chin in his hand and kissed her softly, his lips gentle and undemanding. Sophie felt his free
hand snake around her waist to press the lightest of touches on the small of her back. She melted into him, the world around her disappearing.

There was only Alex. She felt only his hands, heard only his whispered breath, tasted only his mouth upon her own.

Too soon he pulled back, and she felt her body involuntarily follow his retreating form. She wanted more, so much more. He chuckled softly against her lips and she opened her eyes. Good Lord, she had gone from leaning a considerable ways back to practically sitting in his lap. She sat back and gave him an embarrassed smile.

“I should go,” she said, mostly to fill the silence.

“Come with me,” he urged.

“Where?”

“Someplace more private.”

Sophie pulled away, the haze in her mind instantly clearing. If he needed someplace more private than a spot suitable for heated kissing, then he wanted to do more than just kiss.

“We’ve been out here too long already,” she told him. “And I promised Lord Verant the first waltz.”

Alex’s visage darkened immediately. “What are you hiding from me?”

Sophie stood to leave. She couldn’t deny his accusation, nor was she ready yet to explain her behavior.

Alex grabbed her wrist before she could make a single step toward the door. He stood and yanked her closer to him in a single fluid movement.

“Enough,” he growled. “You’re mine, Sophie, not Mr. Johnson’s, not Lord Verant’s, and God knows not Sir Frederick’s. I have allowed you your fun, but no more. No more games, Sophie, and no more secrets. Do you understand?”

“It is not a game,” she whispered through dry lips.

“Then tell me what it is,” he snapped.

She wanted to. She wanted to tell him everything and then cry in his arms. She no longer feared his betrayal, but…

What if he tried to talk her out of it? Her determination
was unreliable at best these days. If he convinced her to forgo her plan in favor of a liaison with him, she’d likely be ruined—along with her father, Mrs. Summers, and Mr. Wang.

And what if his intentions were honorable? Certainly he hadn’t been courting her in the traditional sense of the word, but he’d always taken pains to see that her reputation remained intact. What if he offered to marry her? She didn’t think it particularly likely, but her heart did a funny little dance at the thought.

Then her joy immediately plummeted. There was every reason to believe she might be falling in love with Alex. And the more time she spent in his company, the likelier it became. Not the usual
tendre
preferred by the
ton
, and not the puppy love Kate felt for Lord Martin, but real love. True love. And what were the odds of finding true love? Dear God, what sort of calamity would she have to face to even out the good fortune of finding love? It was a terrifying thought.

In the end, her hesitation answered for her.

Alex dropped her hand. “When you are ready to explain your behavior, we will talk. Until that time, I’d prefer we keep separate company.” He spoke in a cool voice that shot little darts of pain into her chest. “I suggest you think carefully on what you stand to lose, Sophie. And I suggest you do so quickly. My patience is nearing an end.”

With that final warning, Alex gifted her with a stiff bow and left.

Nineteen

S
he spent the remainder of that night and all of the following day and night in her room, pleading a headache. She had attempted to allot herself only two hours for wallowing in sorrow, but for the first time in her life, her emotions refused to abide by her schedule. She’d fallen asleep that first night crying and woken with swollen eyes and a heavy weight determinately lodged in her chest.

She’d skipped breakfast and tried concentrating on her plans to save Whitefield, but that only resulted in another bout of weeping. Eventually, she gave up trying and returned to her bed, resolved to do better the next day.

She didn’t feel particularly better then either. She’d awoken in the small hours of the morning, and after another cry decided she would enlist Evie’s aid tomorrow at tea in fortifying her list. Then, before the week was out, she would pick one of the gentlemen, become engaged, and immediately tell Alex everything. She wouldn’t need to wait until the announcement. Once she had a verbal commitment, Alex could neither offer his assistance nor convince her to go back on her word.

She had fallen back asleep wondering if Alex would forgive her, and what it might mean if he did. What sort of relationship could they have once she belonged to another man? She could never stray from her marriage vows, even in a union of convenience. But would that keep her safe from love? Her sleep proved fitful.

Morning dawned bright and clear, something Sophie was inclined to take as a personal affront in her current mood. The men went off to hunt, leaving the women behind to entertain themselves as they would. Sophie arranged a ladies’ tea for her three friends that afternoon and gave the rest of the morning over to composing a letter to her father.

The girls met in a small second-floor parlor where they were unlikely to be disturbed. Evie was immediately filled in on Sophie’s plans to marry and they had just begun casting out new names for consideration when the parlor door opened and a slightly mischievous-looking Whit entered the room.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he chimed jovially. “Imp.”

“Whit!” Kate exclaimed, not looking entirely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone hunting with the others.”

“I stayed behind to assist Mother with some last-minute preparations for the next ball. Thought I might spare a moment to share a cup of tea with the ladies…and the imp.”

“I caught that the first time,” Mirabelle grumbled.

“The thing is, Whit,” Kate began uneasily, “the thing is, this is a
ladies’
tea.”

“Is it?” he asked innocently. “Well, I’ll just drink mine quickly and be out of your hair then. Are those fresh biscuits?”

“Er…yes,” Kate reached hesitantly for another cup.

Mirabelle turned to face Whit as he took the empty seat next to her. “I believe what your sister is trying to say—”

“I know what she was trying to say,” Whit snapped. “Unlike some, I realize when I am not welcome.”

Kate and Evie groaned. Sophie watched the pair trade insults in horrified fascination.

“And you still want to stay? I’d hate to see the great and mighty Lord Thurston lower himself to my level,” Mirabelle drawled.

He took a bite of biscuit. “I thought there might be something in it I’ve been missing, like the pleasure of annoying
someone. And don’t concern yourself about my stooping too far, I couldn’t invade your level with a shovel and pickax.”

“You really are an ass, Whit. It’s a wonder people still let you believe you’re a gentleman.”

“It is my gentlemanly nature that has kept me from killing you these dozen years or more. If I were any less a gentleman, or if you were a man, I’d have called you out by now.”

“And if you were a man, I’d have accepted.”

Sophie did her best to hide her amusement. Evie didn’t bother. She laughed and raised her glass to Mirabelle in a salute. Kate managed to stifle her laughter well enough to issue a reprimand. “If you can’t get along, then you’ll just have to leave, Whit.”

“Me?” Whit cried indignantly. “Why me? What about her?”

“She was invited,” Kate answered primly.

“I was invited,” Mirabelle repeated, just to be smug.

Sophie couldn’t blame her.

“What about Alex?” Evie inquired out of nowhere.

Sophie choked. A small spray of biscuit sprayed from her mouth and landed on her lap. “Sorry,” she choked out, wiping desperately at her skirts and glancing up with mortification to find Whit smiling serenely. “Sorry.”