As Luck Would Have It by Alissa Johnson Page A

shoulders were shaking like…like he was laughing.
    “Are you laughing? ” she demanded, wishing the words had come out as something more than a horrified whisper.
    Alex took a deep breath and straightened. “Sophie—”
    “You are laughing!” Good. God.
    “No! Well, yes I am, but—”
    “You heartless…foul…” Oh, how she wished her best curse words were in a language he’d understand. “I cannot believe—no wait, yes I can. Yes, I can! You’re despicable. You’re…you’re…” Argh!
    “Sophie, please, if you would just—”
    “No! Don’t! Don’t touch me,” she hissed, seeing red. Absolute fire and brimstone crimson red. “Don’t ever touch me again. Don’t even come near me, or so help me God, I will geld you. Now, do I make myself clear?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just turned on her heel and left.

Nine
    Y ou laughed at her?” Whit’s forkful of eggs was halfway to his mouth when Alex finished the retelling of last night’s events.
    “I did not laugh at her ,” Alex growled. “I laughed at the situation.” The excuse sounded even lamer spoken aloud than it had in his head.
    Whit eyed him dubiously. “I’m sure Miss Everton was delighted to hear that.”
    Alex cringed visibly. Sophie’s reaction could not, by any stretch of the imagination, have been described as one of delight.
    Whit made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh and then finished cramming the eggs into his mouth.
    Alex eyed his own plate with disinterest. He really wasn’t hungry anymore. He had woken Whit at the ungodly hour of eight this morning and bribed him into coming to White’s with the promise of a free breakfast and the loan of his matched grays. Whit was his oldest and most loyal friend, and would probably have agreed to accompany Alex without the extra incentives, but Alex had been unwilling to take the chance. He was that desperate for advice. Now, watching his friend alternately chuckling and wolfing down his breakfast, Alex was left to wonder why he had taken the time to bother.
    Clearly, Whit was not going to be of any help.
    “What ever made you do it?” Whit asked, stabbing a piece of ham.
    “I’ve been asking myself that for the last eight hours.” Actually, he had asked himself that very question three times a minute, every minute, for the last eight hours.
    “And?” Whit prompted, popping the ham into his mouth.
    Alex groaned and set down his fork in disgust. “And I do believe I’ve come unhinged.”
    Whit bobbed his head agreeably and kept on eating.
    Alex really wished he hadn’t offered his grays. “I can only hope it’s not a lasting affliction,” he grumbled.
    “Or catching,” Whit added, then shrugged. He swallowed and said, “Flowers, candy, and an explanation would be a damned sight better than, ‘it was the situation.’ Also, I’d advise you to seriously consider groveling. The sooner the better.”
    “I’m certain you would.”
    “Why don’t you call on Sophie this afternoon? No use letting the problem fester. I’ll come along, for moral support, of course.” Whit grabbed a scone and then by some means unholy, managed a truly evil smirk with a mouthful of food.
    Alex briefly entertained the idea of pummeling his friend, but the man had just inhaled an entire plate of eggs and ham. The resulting mess wouldn’t be worth the satisfaction.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Alex snapped. He dropped his napkin on the table and stood. “Not one minute sooner.”
    Whit gave him a jaunty one-fork salute and kept chewing. Alex glared, reconsidered the pummeling, then settled for a single vulgar epitaph and left.
    Sophie watched the passing scenery from inside her carriage without interest. She really didn’t feel like shopping, but she had made the commitment to Kate and Mirabelle yesterday. They were delightful girls and on any other day Sophie would be eager for their company. But not today. Today she wanted nothing more than to lie in bed and indulge