As Luck Would Have It (19 page)

“Moving closer to you.”

“Why?”

“I should think that would be obvious.”

“Well, don’t.”

Alex settled himself next to her and then, before she even realized what he was about, he’d scooped her up onto his lap.

“Alex!” She struggled to get up, but it was a futile effort at best, at worst an embarrassing one. His arms were like bands of rope.

“See now, isn’t this better?” Alex wasn’t entirely sure it was better. There was something hard poking into his back, and his seat felt as if it were sitting on a pile of rocks.

“Good Lord, what is wrong with this thing?”

“It’s old,” she snapped. “Go back over there.” She stopped trying to push herself up and pointed at his abandoned seat.

“An excellent notion,” he replied, sliding an arm beneath her knees.

“By yourself,” she clarified.

“And leave you to the mercy of that lumpy old thing? Nonsense. Stop squirming, sweet. I’d hate to drop you. I have my pride, you know.”

“I hope you strain your back,” she grumbled.

He didn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead he sat down with a contented sigh and settled her more comfortably in his lap. “Ah, now this is better. Why haven’t you gotten rid of that?” He jerked his chin toward the offending settee.

Because she couldn’t afford it. The accounts in her name did not extend to home furnishings.

“Because I like it,” she lied, trying to ignore the way one of his hands was playing with her foot. “I believe it belonged to my grandmother.”

She believed it
might
have belonged to her grandmother, which was very nearly the same thing.

Alex eyed it dubiously. “Your great-great-grandmother at the very least. And as she would be very, very dead by now, I believe you could dispose of it without injuring her feelings.” His hand slipped up to her ankle.

“Alex—”

“I see that you changed the curtains. Very wise.” His hand moved up to caress her calf.

She’d found the lighter, considerably less musty set in the attic. “Thank you,” she said automatically. “Now please let me go. Someone could walk in.”

“They could, but they won’t. Not if your butler has anything to say about it. I think he was rather taken with me.” His hand slid up just a little.

“He was taken with your title.”

“I knew it would come in handy someday,” he murmured.

“Mrs. Summers may return.”

“You are always saying that, and she never does. I’m beginning to wonder if the woman is a figment of my imagination.”

He leaned down to kiss her, but she jerked her head to the side and his lips brushed her cheek instead. He gave a weary sigh. “What is it, Sophie? Last night—”

“We were in a well-concealed gazebo with little chance of being seen.”

“Yes, but now—”

“Now we are in my front drawing room where anyone might walk in.”

“Perhaps, but it—”

“Will not be repeated, Alex,” she said resolutely. “I don’t regret last night, not one second of it, but it can’t happen again.”

“Why the hell not?” he demanded, his hand stilling on her knee.

“Because I said so.”

“That is the single most infantile excuse I have ever heard.”

“That may be, but if you are a gentleman you will respect my right to use it.”

Alex opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a knock at the front door. With all the interruptions, he was beginning to understand how William had felt that day in the office. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Alex,
please.
”

He swore under his breath, but let her slip off his lap. She was across the room and sitting primly on the settee by the time her guest arrived.

As was the habit of all gentlemen, Alex stood whenever a guest entered the room. He didn’t actually own the room, but he was feeling rather possessive of the woman who did, and he liked the idea of him and Sophie standing together against a common intruder. He immediately wished he had kept his seat. Lord Heransly didn’t warrant common courtesy, even when he wasn’t trespassing on Sophie’s presence. The man was a vile reprobate—even his parents despaired of him. Rumor had it his father had drastically cut his son’s allowance in order to support the young man’s growing legion of bastards, and Heransly had complained bitterly over the expense. One night at White’s Alex had heard him whisper, “That is why we have poor houses.”

“Lord Heransly.” Sophie’s tone was pleasant enough, but Alex could detect a hint of dismay in her features. She wasn’t too pleased to see the man either. Good.

“Your Grace.” Lord Heransly gave a low bow.

Alex barely inclined his head. “I believe Miss Everton greeted you.”

Heransly looked taken aback at the rebuke. “Er…yes, of course. My apologies, Miss Everton.” He bowed again, this time to Sophie. “It is a pleasure to see you, as always.”

Alex was sorely tempted to jerk his knee up into Heransly’s face. He could always claim an unfortunate tic, the result of an old battle wound, perhaps. He forced himself to relax. This man was a close friend of Loudor’s. Alex couldn’t afford to beat him senseless.

“What brings you here, Heransly?” Alex strove for, and to his own amazement managed, a friendly sort of tone. He knew exactly what Heransly was after, and he didn’t like it.

“I suspect the same thing that brought you here.” Heransly gave him a conspiratorial wink that made Alex want to reach out and tear an eyelid off. It was a shame he couldn’t blame that on a muscle spasm.

“I’m afraid I’ve already engaged Miss Everton for—”

“A drive,” Sophie said quickly.

Alex shot her an amused glance. “A drive,” he allowed.

“In this weather?” Heransly inquired, glancing around Alex to peer at the windows.

Sophie nodded. “Seems silly to wait about for a sunny day,” she explained. “Especially in England. I expect Mrs. Summers will be here any minute to chaperone.”

“I suppose,” Heransly said skeptically.

“I’ll just have the carriage brought around.” She skirted both men and furniture alike, and went in search of James, the butler. Something about Lord Heransly made her a little edgy, and the way Alex’s jaw kept clenching and unclenching made her downright nervous.

Heransly watched her go, looking increasingly confused. “You didn’t bring your own carriage, Rockeforte?”

“The drive was a last-minute decision,” Alex explained easily. “Won’t you have a seat?” Alex relished the chance to play host in Sophie’s house. It was almost as effective as an outright crowing of his territorial rights. Sophie and everything that came with her was his. The house was his, not that he needed another one; it was the principle of the matter. The chairs were his. Even the dainty little tea set was his. The
sooner Heransly…no, the sooner
everyone
understood that, the better.

It appeared Heransly was already getting the hint. “No, thank you. If you’ve engaged Miss Everton for the afternoon, I suppose I ought to be off.”

Alex walked him to the front door.

“It occurs to me that I hold some vowels of yours,” Alex said as Heransly pulled on his coat and gloves.

“Er…yes. Yes, you do.”

“I won them from you the very day I first made Miss Everton’s acquaintance. Did you know that?”

Heransly tugged at his cravat. “No, I didn’t.”

“I hadn’t given them much thought at all until today. I believe seeing you here in Miss Everton’s company reminded me of them.”

“I see.”

“Do you? I suspect that the moment the two of you part company I shall forget them all over again. It’s the oddest thing. In fact, I’d wager good money I could go months, years even, without thinking about them, but should I so much as hear your names spoken in the same sentence…” Alex shrugged and let the sentence finish itself. If Heransly wasn’t clever enough to get the hint, he’d just break the man’s nose and the War Department be damned.

Fortunately, it didn’t come to that.

“Fair enough, Rockeforte, fair enough,” Heransly chuckled, finishing the last buttons on his coat. “Nothing I don’t deserve. Loudor did try to warn me after all.”

“Warn you about what?”

“That you’d staked your claim. Shouldn’t have trespassed on your grounds, but I only half believed the man. Not the sharpest of tools, now is he?” He gave another wink, and Alex, though it chafed him badly to do so, smiled.

Perhaps he had just found Loudor’s weak link. A confidante more impressed with a dukedom than loyalty. Alex’s title had
come in handy twice today. For once, he was grateful for the
ton
tradition of bootlicking.

“I suspect his mind hasn’t encountered a whetstone since he left the schoolroom,” he commented. It was a decidedly lame joke, purposefully so. He wanted to test his toad-eating theory. Heransly laughed uproariously.

Perfect.

“Speaking of Miss Everton’s cousin, I’d plans to call on him for a drink at White’s to night,” Alex lied casually. “But I think I’d prefer the company of a man who shares my taste for beautiful women and fine wit. Interested?”

Alex thought the man might swoon. “I’d be delighted, Your Grace. And about…about my vowels…”

“Forgotten,” Alex said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Can’t blame a man for trying, can I?” Alex punctuated this last remark with two hardy slaps on Harensly’s back. And if they were a bit too hardy, well that couldn’t be helped.

“Lord Heransly?”

The two men turned at the sound of Sophie’s voice.

“Are you leaving so soon?”

Alex hid his smile over that polite inquiry. She didn’t appear the least sorry at the idea of him leaving.

“I’m afraid I must,” Heransly answered smoothly. He gave her a parting bow, then Alex. “A pleasure, Miss Everton. Your Grace.”

Sophie watched him go. “He seems awfully cheerful.”

“Did he? I hadn’t noticed. Is the carriage coming round then?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” She heaved a sigh and began pulling on a bonnet. “I suppose I must go now.”

“You needn’t sound as if you were about to be martyred.”

She shot him a glance that said his words weren’t far off the mark

“What did the two of you talk about while I was gone?” Sophie inquired once they were comfortably ensconced inside the carriage.

“Just this and that. Where are we off to?”

She looked at him blankly. “I have no idea.”

“You’ll have to think of something. This was your idea, remember? I wanted to go for a walk.”

“Well, where were we going to walk to?”

Alex had no idea. “Just around the block.” “That’s it?” “Well, it is raining.”

Sophie let her head fall back against the swabs and let out an irritated groan.

Alex took pity on her. “Have you been sightseeing yet?”

She lifted her head. “No actually, I haven’t.”

Alex grinned and stuck his head out to holler at the driver.

And they were off.

Fifteen

T
o keep her reputation intact, Alex took her to places rarely frequented by good society, and a few places they avoided altogether. Sophie enjoyed the sights and sounds, and occasionally even the smells, of London, but it was her guide that truly held her enthralled. Alex had a story for every site they visited, his anecdotes so entertaining she frequently forgot to pay attention to the very surroundings in which they were staged.

Over there was the first tavern he and Whit had ever visited. At the ripe age of fifteen, they had managed to become entirely foxed before the hour struck eight, necessitating their removal from the establishment over the backs of two sturdy footmen.

And there was the corner at which a ten-year-old Alex had
accidentally knocked over a fruit vendor’s cart in his panic to outrun Lady Willard’s nasty little dachshund. That misadventure had ruined his first pair of breeches—of which he’d been exceedingly proud—and had required him to purchase six bags of mashed apples and fourteen lemons.

Sophie listened to the inflections of his voice, the gravelly pitch, the cadence, the ups and downs that were uniquely his. She watched the way he frequently cocked his left eyebrow but never the right. She noticed he tapped one finger on his knee whenever lost in thought, and when he laughed he tilted his chin up. She saw the way hard muscle moved beneath the fabric of his clothes, and how the mere brushing of his arm against hers started a slow traveling burn along her skin. She noticed that his eyes seemed to dart to her mouth every time it happened. She observed every detail about him, and it unnerved her.

She couldn’t afford to lose her heart to the Duke of Rockeforte. Never mind that he appeared to be in the habit of seducing women, and that he had never professed any feelings for her beyond simple physical desire. She couldn’t risk having her heart distracting her from the necessity of marriage to a suitable gentleman. The task was quite difficult enough without the added complication of unrequited love.

Over the next hour, she made a near heroic effort to emotionally distance herself from the man sitting across from her. And failed miserably. Only she wasn’t miserable. She laughed and teased, talked and debated. She felt more relaxed and happier than she’d been in a very long while. Since that seemed unlikely to change during the course of the afternoon, she decided to let be the matter of safe distances and simply enjoy herself.

“Are you hungry?” Alex asked.

“A bit.”

“Excellent. I know just the place.”

Just the place turned out to be a ramshackle inn and tavern near the docks.

“Are you sure no one who knows us will be here?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “This place is far outside the bounds of the fashionable.”

She had no trouble believing that. The large room was crowded with boisterous patrons in serviceable work clothes who spoke loudly and laughed even louder. Several small children darted from table to table with such gleeful abandon that it was impossible to determine which child belonged to which parents. A steady stream of friendly barmaids poured in and out the kitchen doors. To the
ton
, the room would be a study in the uncouth. To Sophie, it was a clean establishment where the majority of the diners were happy, well-fed families. She could think of vastly more respectable dining rooms where the miserable occupants were fed third-rate food prepared by an overpaid, fifth-rate chef.