freedom,” Alex said excitedly, and at Sophie’s wry grin added, “Every step into the future takes you further away from the past.”
Sophie nodded, shoving down her apprehension and doing her best to warm to the notion. She could not risk losing Lord Courtland's attention. As far as possible future spouses went, he met her needs perfectly.
“Excellent,” Alex said, jumping off the bed and rushing to the door. “I shall see you at eight.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and Sophie? Don’t wear the green silk to the Lindford Ball.”
“I thought you said it was perfect?” she asked, confused.
“It is. For tonight’s dinner,” Alex said smartly. She winked before flouncing out of the room.
Sophie giggled, overcome by a wave of anticipation. She would make the evening a night to remember. For the next ten minutes, she wandered around the room with a dreamy smile, visions of Lord Courtland’s handsome face dancing in her head.
* * * *
Andrew was in his study pouring over estate matters when Alex entered. Without knocking . He noted her feline grin and defiant posture with a frown. With an unreadable expression, she plopped into one of the armchairs across from him and examined her fingernails. His inner voice warned that she had not come for a social visit. She glanced up, all innocence; he didn’t believe her harmlessness for a second. “Have you something you wish to discuss?” he asked, curious to hear the reason behind her behavior.
“I do,” she said, tilting her chin in the air. “I give you warning I invited Sophie to dinner.”
He stiffened only a second before his mask slipped into place. “Warning accepted,” he said with as droll a voice as he could muster. Alexandra was one of the few people able to see through the veneer covering his emotions. It was a talent she had learned from him, and for the most part, they honored a tacit agreement never to use it on one another. For some reason, though, she was playing traitor. He shuffled papers around on his desk, trying to locate his stationary. “Is that all?” he asked, reaching for a quill so he could invite a few more guests to dinner. Perhaps there would be safety in large numbers, in which case, he should send out invitations to everyone in England. To the entire world, for that matter .
“That is all.”
“I will see you at dinner, then,” he said, dipping his head dismissively. Andrew penned a note to Simon then called for Weston to have it delivered. After Weston left, he tried to refocus on his estate matters, but all he could think about was Sophie. How the devil was he supposed to pay attention to Lady Abigail while she was in the same room?
He shook off his annoyance, absolutely refusing to let the idea of her presence trouble him. He would just ignore her and focus his attentions on his future bride. Fortunately, Lady Abigail’s interest could be engaged with as little as a smile in her direction. He was, after all, a wealthy duke. For the daughter of a marquis, he would be quite the catch. He had chosen her for his attentions just as he would have done a horse from Tattersall’s.
Of course, she was a lady and not a brood mare and so a bit of encouragement would not go amiss. His lips twitched. The evening shall be interesting indeed , he thought with a smirk as he headed to his bedchamber to prepare for the night to come. If Sophie expected to invade his table, she better be prepared to accept the consequences.
Chapter Seven
At a quarter to eight, Simon arrived with the beautiful Lady Forrester draped on his arm. Andrew’s other guests were already waiting in the green salon. He had poked his head in earlier and offered his greetings while making a quick mental note on who had arrived and who had not. So far, there was no sign of Courtland or his sister. Nor of Sophie, thank God . The less time he spent around her, the better.
He watched from the staircase landing as Weston ushered his guests in. Simon’s affirmation that
Sophie nodded, shoving down her apprehension and doing her best to warm to the notion. She could not risk losing Lord Courtland's attention. As far as possible future spouses went, he met her needs perfectly.
“Excellent,” Alex said, jumping off the bed and rushing to the door. “I shall see you at eight.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and Sophie? Don’t wear the green silk to the Lindford Ball.”
“I thought you said it was perfect?” she asked, confused.
“It is. For tonight’s dinner,” Alex said smartly. She winked before flouncing out of the room.
Sophie giggled, overcome by a wave of anticipation. She would make the evening a night to remember. For the next ten minutes, she wandered around the room with a dreamy smile, visions of Lord Courtland’s handsome face dancing in her head.
* * * *
Andrew was in his study pouring over estate matters when Alex entered. Without knocking . He noted her feline grin and defiant posture with a frown. With an unreadable expression, she plopped into one of the armchairs across from him and examined her fingernails. His inner voice warned that she had not come for a social visit. She glanced up, all innocence; he didn’t believe her harmlessness for a second. “Have you something you wish to discuss?” he asked, curious to hear the reason behind her behavior.
“I do,” she said, tilting her chin in the air. “I give you warning I invited Sophie to dinner.”
He stiffened only a second before his mask slipped into place. “Warning accepted,” he said with as droll a voice as he could muster. Alexandra was one of the few people able to see through the veneer covering his emotions. It was a talent she had learned from him, and for the most part, they honored a tacit agreement never to use it on one another. For some reason, though, she was playing traitor. He shuffled papers around on his desk, trying to locate his stationary. “Is that all?” he asked, reaching for a quill so he could invite a few more guests to dinner. Perhaps there would be safety in large numbers, in which case, he should send out invitations to everyone in England. To the entire world, for that matter .
“That is all.”
“I will see you at dinner, then,” he said, dipping his head dismissively. Andrew penned a note to Simon then called for Weston to have it delivered. After Weston left, he tried to refocus on his estate matters, but all he could think about was Sophie. How the devil was he supposed to pay attention to Lady Abigail while she was in the same room?
He shook off his annoyance, absolutely refusing to let the idea of her presence trouble him. He would just ignore her and focus his attentions on his future bride. Fortunately, Lady Abigail’s interest could be engaged with as little as a smile in her direction. He was, after all, a wealthy duke. For the daughter of a marquis, he would be quite the catch. He had chosen her for his attentions just as he would have done a horse from Tattersall’s.
Of course, she was a lady and not a brood mare and so a bit of encouragement would not go amiss. His lips twitched. The evening shall be interesting indeed , he thought with a smirk as he headed to his bedchamber to prepare for the night to come. If Sophie expected to invade his table, she better be prepared to accept the consequences.
Chapter Seven
At a quarter to eight, Simon arrived with the beautiful Lady Forrester draped on his arm. Andrew’s other guests were already waiting in the green salon. He had poked his head in earlier and offered his greetings while making a quick mental note on who had arrived and who had not. So far, there was no sign of Courtland or his sister. Nor of Sophie, thank God . The less time he spent around her, the better.
He watched from the staircase landing as Weston ushered his guests in. Simon’s affirmation that
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