“Indeed, yes.” The Duke also stood. “I wish to seek my own rooms as the hour grows late. I will write a letter to Lord Montrose immediately, and invite him here so that we may clear this issue up once and for all. Good night, Sophia.”
“Good night, Papa. Good night, Mama.”
After her parents left the drawing room, Sophia stared at the flames on the hearth, and wondered what Wesley was doing at that very moment. Was he reading? Was he sleeping? What hours did he keep? If he was reading, what book was it? Was he in the library, or his private chambers?
As she sat there, a footman asked if she desired anything.
“A glass of wine, please,” she replied. “White.”
Sipping the wine, gazing at the fire and lost in her thoughts, Sophia contemplated the sensations of angry eyes on her back as she departed the Bersard ballroom, and wanted so very much to ask Wesley about them.
Perhaps we can find a time in the next day or so to privately meet.
Deciding to write to him first thing after she got out of bed in the morning, Sophia planned to ask him to meet her at the bookstore. No one save Erin would witness their meeting, and Sophia could not just see him again, she might even gain another kiss from him.
That thought warmed her more than the wine or the fire, and she happily spent the next hour contemplating their wedding night. If it was anything like what she read in her romance novels—her face heated in a furious blush.
It is a very good thing thoughts are private. Or I’d be scandalized right out of London for mine.
Sophia finished her wine, and finally left the drawing room to walk up the stairs to her private apartments. The hour was quite late, and many of the servants had already retired to their quarters in the east wing.
Decorative lamps on the walls sent her shadow wide and huge behind her, yet lit her way as she planned to sleep in quite late in the morning. She never liked getting out of her warm bed on a cold, dreary morning.
Erin, asleep in a chair as she awaited her mistress, woke instantly when Sophia walked through the door, and closed it behind her. Standing, covering her yawn with her hand, the maid curtseyed as Sophia strode in and sat down at her dressing table.
Without words, Erin unpinned Sophia’s hair and brushed it out, then helped her to dress in her nightgown.
“Will m’lady require anything else this night?” Erin asked, smothering another yawn.
“No, Erin,” Sophia replied. “Go to your bed. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Leaving Sophia to stare out the window at the nearly full moon slowly descending into the west, Erin vanished into the small alcove where her bed was.
I just want to sit here for a few minutes, then I’ll go to bed.
Sophia thought about Wesley in his London townhouse not so very far away, and silently wished him a good night and pleasant dreams. After a short while, yawning even as Erin had, Sophia climbed into her huge bed with its silk sheets and warm comforters.
Blowing out the lamp, she hoped she’d dream of Wesley.
Riding his horse through the dark, empty London streets, Lord Montrose had little desire to sleep. His heart sang with joy, his mind’s eye filled with the vision of Lady Alicia.
The entire evening at the Bersard ball, he knew he had found the lady of his dreams. She was not like that silly bluestocking, Lady Sophia. Oh, no. Lady Alicia was his match in every way. They spent nearly half the evening discussing the latest fashions, the best clothiers, who was doing what to whom and why, as well as the latest gossip of the court and the ton.
Lady Alicia whispered things about people he had not believed possible. When it came to the scandal sheets, Lady Alicia had beaten them to the punch.
He no longer cared that he had caught the idiot Bersard with his intended fiancée in a position, even in privacy, that left little to the imagination. Bersard had done him a huge favor, in fact. Had David been still attached, albeit informally, he could never, in good conscience, speak so plainly with Lady Alicia.
“Her mind is so nimble,” he told his horse. “So full of quirks about how to dress better than my competitors, how to find even better tailors to suit my needs. Why, the lady is me!”
He laughed to himself, his voice echoing off the brick structures around him. “She adores gossip and scandal more than I do,” he continued. “I do swear she is a scandal sheet of her own making.”
Arriving at his luxurious townhouse, David dismounted as a groom ran from the stables to take his horse. He strode quickly up the steps to the door, and rushed into the warmth and out of the dank chill of the night.
His butler, a stooped aging man, stepped forward in the foyer and bowed. “Good evening, My Lord.”
“Good evening, Charles.” David took off his hat and outer coat to hand to the butler, but kept his walking stick. “Is my mother still up at this hour?”
“Indeed, yes. She asked to see you when you arrived.”
Knowing his mother would be in the drawing room with the small gaggle of widowed friends who perpetually stayed at the townhouse with her, David walked across the polished floor, not caring that his boots left muddy tracks behind him.
He opened the drawing room doors, finding he was not wrong. His mother, Anne, the Dowager Countess of Montrose, sat demurely in a chair while her four friends, Lady Chelsea, Lady Simone, Lady Helen, and Lady Charlotte sat on sofas around her. All five ceased their conversation as he strode in, and he mentally compared them to a flock of popinjays.
“Mother,” he greeted her, and glanced at her friends. “Ladies all, good evening to you.”
“David,” Anne said, her tone cool. Very seldom was she ever warm and loving to him, but as he never cared for being coddled, he did not mind. “You appear well this night.”
“As do you, Mother. Have you ladies had a pleasant evening, I hope?”
“Well, enough, I suppose.” Anne picked up a missive from the table beside her and held it out to him. “This came for you while you were out.”
Accepting it, David read the script on it, and said, “It’s from the Duke of Wellingson.”
“Yes,” his mother replied, and under the avid eyes of the gaggle, David opened it.
Quickly reading it, he commented, “His Grace wishes to see me at my earliest convenience.”
“Perhaps he has a business proposition to discuss with you,” Anne remarked, and took a sip of her wine.
Knowing his likes and dislikes, a footman offered him a snifter of brandy on a silver tray. David took it from him and drank deeply, understanding exactly what the Duke wanted to talk to him about. “Perhaps,” was all he said.
He wants me to formally break off my courtship with Lady Sophia, which I am more than happy to do.
His thoughts turned to Lady Alicia, and he smiled slightly.
Lady Alicia, I do believe you are a dream come true for me.
Naturally, the eyes watching him observed his warm expression, and their heads bent together, although they would refrain from whispering about him until he left the room.
“You seem quite happy, David,” his mother commented. “Would you care to divulge the reason?”
“Ah, Mother, I merely met the lady whom I wish to marry,” David answered, still smiling as he thought of Lady Alicia’s sparkling eyes and plump cheeks.
“I am pleased for you then. Who is this wonderful lady? I do so hope I can approve of her.”
“There can be no doubt,” David said, sitting down in a chair at last. “Lady Alicia Keaton, daughter of the Earl of Swinton.”
The bird-like heads bent together and the whispers commenced with no few nods and shakes of heads. After long minutes of discussion, the consensus seemed approving for they all gazed at him again with slight smiles of their own.
“That is a most excellent match,” Anne informed him. “She is of the highest blood, and her family is very well respected. Lady Alicia also has a sterling reputation, and should bring an excellent dowry, despite she
is but the second daughter of the Earl and Countess.”
“I am very glad you approve,” David replied wryly, “as she is my match in all other ways. I am already quite fond of her.”
“And if she returns your feelings, then you are fortunate indeed, my son.”
The eyes continued to stare at him as though they were a flock of ravens in a tree watching and waiting for him to die so they might dine on his carcass. He had never liked having them there, as they never spoke to him. However, they made his mother happy, and when she was happy, she stayed out of his affairs.
“Might I inquire how this came to pass?” his mother asked, her tone polite and holding no warmth. “I was under the understanding you were to court the Duke of Wellingson’s daughter.”
David waved his hand in dismissal. “We did not like each other well enough, and her hand is currently pursued by the Duke of Bersard.”
“Ah.”
The gaggle bent their heads together again. “As far as how my infatuation occurred,” he said, pleased to share his good fortune even with the old biddies, “I met Lady Alicia at the Bersard ball this evening. I richly enjoyed her company, and she shares my views and tastes in the latest fashions in clothing.”
“I am quite pleased for you, my son.” If the Countess was indeed pleased, it never showed on her stern visage.
Growing quickly tired of the beady eyes, David decided it was past time to leave them to their uselessness and tawdry talk behind his back. “Mother, be so good as to write the Duke of Wellingson for me. Inform him I will meet him at his residence at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“Very well.”
Under the watchful eyes of the widows, David finished his brandy, then stood up. “Good night then, ladies.”
Under their murmured farewells, David took his leave of them, and with a bounce in his step he left them to their whispers and gossip. When it came to scandalous news and hot rumors of misbehavior among the ton, Lady Anne always seemed the first to know, although she seldom left the house these days.
How she knew what she did remained a mystery to David, but as she seldom failed to share it with him, he was never caught by surprise upon hearing it from someone else.
Now with Lady Alicia keeping me informed, I will always stay ahead of the game.
Hoping he would have very pleasant dreams about Lady Alicia and her very beautiful body, David trotted up the stairs to his private quarters, a big smile on his face.
Chapter 19
After lounging in her bed for most of the morning, Sophia finally rose from it at nearly eleven o’clock. Sitting at her dressing table, she looked at her reflection in the mirror as Erin brushed out her long golden locks and coiled them into an attractive coiffure that left pretty ringlets hanging down her slender neck.
Gazing at her honey-colored eyes, Sophia knew they were by far her best feature.
Wesley loves how I look, he thinks me beautiful.
“Is it vanity to think of myself as beautiful?” she mused to Erin.
“Excessive vanity I believe to be a sin,” Erin replied, selecting another pin to put into her hair. “To simply acknowledge that you do have attractive looks are not. You asked my opinion, m’lady.”
“Indeed, I did. Thank you for your honesty.”
“You are indeed a beautiful lady. Your hair is of a very unique color.”
“When I was young, I thought it horrid, as it was so different than everyone else’s.”
“Being unique does not make you ugly.”
When her hair and clothing were perfect, Sophia went to her writing desk to sit there and write a missive to Wesley. Pulling a piece of paper to her, she dipped her quill into the ink well and wrote.
My dearest Wesley,
My father has moved up his planned talk with you by a week. I cannot wait that long to see you again. Please say you will meet with me at our favorite bookstore at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.
I will wait most anxiously to hear from you, and will remain forever yours.
Sophia.
After folding the letter and addressing it to the Duke of Bersard, Sophia left her chambers and paced sedately down the stairs to find the butler, Williams. He was exiting the dining room after seeing to the clean-up of her parents’ breakfast, and offered her a low bow. Having known him all her life, Sophia had never seen him smile. Not once.
“May I be of service, My Lady?” he asked, his voice as dead sounding as his expression.
“Will you please send this with a footman to the Duke of Bersard?” she asked, showing him the letter.
“Of course, My Lady. I will see to it immediately.”
“I wish this to be in His Grace’s hands within the hour.”
“It will be done according to your wishes.”
Sophia handed him the envelope, then added, “After you have sent the letter, I wish breakfast to be served to me in the dining room.”
Sophia suspected that irritated him to no end, but he was too well-trained in the service of the mercurial wants and needs of the aristocracy to protest or complain. He merely bowed to her with his usual crusty expression and replied that he would inform the cook and would serve her himself.
“Do you know where my parents are, Williams?”
“His Grace is in his study with his steward while Her Grace has retired to her rooms as she spoke of her joints aching in this damp weather.”
“Thank you, Williams.”
He bowed and went on her errand while she continued on her way into the dining room. A footman pulled out her chair for her while others bowed, working at polishing the silver and setting the table for the next meal. Another brought her a cup of hot tea, laced with milk and sugar, which she sipped while awaiting her breakfast.
The doors to the vast dining room opened, and her father strolled in. “Ah, there you are, Sophia,” he said expansively. “I was just about to send a servant to your rooms.”
To a footman, he said, “Hot tea, please?”
The servant bowed and went into the kitchen to fetch his master’s tea as the Duke sat down at the table. “I have a message from Lord Montrose,” he said. “He answered my summons and will be here at two o’clock.”
Sophia’s heart picked up speed. “Indeed? You will speak to him about breaking off our courtship?”
“That is the reason for my request that he come here, yes,” the Duke replied, stirring a few drops of milk into his tea. “If he is as attached to Lady Alicia as you say he is, then this will be little more than a formality. I do not wish him to become antagonistic toward you or toward me, so I would like you to be there.”
“Certainly, Papa,” Sophia replied as Williams set a plate of eggs, bacon, fresh bread, and kippers in front of her. A niggle of trepidation crept through her stomach as she started to eat. “I hope he will be understanding.”
“He is a gentleman, and surely will be.”
The Duke drank his tea, and watched Sophia eat her breakfast. “His courtship of you had not truly gotten very formal,” he added. “And it is not the same as if we had a solid engagement, and the banns read.”
“This is true,” Sophia remarked, believing her nervousness stemmed from the possibility that Lord Montrose might hold her as contemptable after seeing her in Wesley’s arms, alone with no chaperone present.
The Duke eyed her quizzically. “And there is nothing else I should know before we meet with him?”
“No, Papa. I am simply worried he will think badly of me.”
“If that happens, there is little we can do about it. Becoming nervous and unsettled over it before it happens will not do you any good.”
At least no one caught us at the Stilton’s ball with Wesley touching my ankle. Between that and Montrose catching us in the library, my reputation would be ruined for life. My parents could never live it down.
She could not take her father’s advice about not being nervous upon meeting Montrose face to face after the library incident, and her b
reaking off their courtship. Sophia restlessly paced the house as the clock ticked slowly toward two o’clock.
She could not even sit still long enough to read.
She wandered from the library down to the dining room to the drawing room, then stared out the window into the grey garden below, back to the library. She picked up a book, read a few lines, put it down then roamed the hallways upstairs before descending to the main floor again.
Why am I so upset? Surely Lord Montrose will be reasonable and friendly over the matter. He is a gentleman and hopefully will not hold a grudge.
Addicted to a Rascal Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 16
