As Luck Would Have It by Alissa Johnson Page B

in a hearty wallow of self-pity and self-recrimination.
    He should never have kissed her. That was all she could think about. And she should never have kissed him back . Buthe had, then she had, and there was no undoing it. If she were to be completely honest with herself she’d have to admit she didn’t really want to undo it. She did, however, fervently wish that the interlude had ended with something other than Alex laughing at her.
    It had been a wonderful kiss, at least from her inexperienced standpoint. Sophie frowned and slumped back against the seat cushions. Apparently, Alex viewed the interlude from an entirely different perspective. Specifically, from that of a rake. Probably, he had kissed scores of women, legions , and undoubtedly most of them were a great deal more versed in the art of kissing than she, but really, it had been unforgivable of him to be so cruel as to laugh at her lack of skill.
    It had been humiliating. And it hurt, even more than she would have expected. She had truly begun to like Alex, and for one glorious moment, when he had wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips against her own, she had felt beautiful, cherished, and desired.
    And then he had laughed. And she had run home, feeling every bit the gullible country girl, and cried.
    Sophie was saved having to relive that painful memory, yet again, by the sound of the carriage door opening. She blinked twice at the footman, before realizing they had reached the Cole town house. She allowed herself to be handed down and then took a moment on the front steps to square her shoulders and clear her thoughts.
    Rockeforte was a cad, a rake, a bounder and…several other atrocities that didn’t come to her at the moment. He was not worth the effort it required to be angry and definitely not worthy of her tears. In the future she would, quite simply, have absolutely nothing to do with the man.
    “Sophie! What ever are you doing standing on the steps?”
    It took a moment for Sophie to realize the voice was coming from Kate, who was leaning out an upper-story window. Sophie remembered the young woman’s propensity for clumsiness and cringed.
    Kate seemed not to notice the precariousness of her position. “Do come in. Mira and I are most eager to be off. Oh wait!” Kate disappeared for a moment and then returned to the window, dangling half her body over the window sill. Sophie was relieved to see a hand dart out and latch firmly on to the back of her dress. “Don’t bother, Sophie,” Kate called cheerily. “We’ll be right down.”
    In good time, Mirabelle, Kate, two maids, and two footmen were arranged in, on, and around the moving carriage.
    It was hard to retain a bad mood in the company of Kate and Mirabelle. Kate’s natural buoyancy and Mirabelle’s quick wit had Sophie smiling, then grinning, then laughing before they reached the fashionable shopping district of Bond Street.
    And then of course, there were the shops themselves. Sophie’s previous London shopping excursion had been rushed and purposeful, really much more of a chore. Ambling from store to store without lists or agenda was a world removed from trying to obtain an entire wardrobe in under a week.
    The girls were a lively pair, far more interested in having a pleasant time than searching for that perfect bonnet or the newest muslin. By Sophie’s calculation, they had visited a dozen shops in under two hours and had, among the three of them, purchased two new ribbons and a quill.
    The whole morning had been really quite wonderful, marred only slightly when Kate had tripped over what Sophie could only assume was her own feet and collided with a portly gentleman coming out of a bookstore. He didn’t seem the least put out by the incident. Kate had looked adorably sheepish during her apology and in the end, the man had somehow contrived to take the blame for the incident and walked off with a rather foolish sort of smile on his face. Mirabelle had looked like she