As Luck Would Have It (21 page)

“McLeod!”

“Right here, Your Grace.”

“See to this trash.”

“Aye. Move aside now, Molly, and let His Grace stand up. You there…!”

As quickly as the crowd had formed, it dispersed. Someone grabbed the unconscious men and began to drag them off. To where, Sophie didn’t care. Her attention was riveted on Alex.

Sixteen

A
lex didn’t say a word, just took Sophie’s elbow in a firm grip and led her toward the waiting carriage. She sneaked a sideways glance at his profile. He looked furious.

He assisted her in, then exchanged a few curt words with the bruised, but otherwise uninjured, driver before climbing in after her.

Did he blame her for what happened? The thought felt like a knife to her chest.

Alex raised one fist to pound sharply on the ceiling to start the carriage rolling. The sound made her flinch. And then snap.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” she exclaimed in shaky voice. And then, to her shock, and absolute mortification, she began to cry. She wasn’t a weeper, as a general rule. And she’d certainly been through more traumatic experiences in the past than what had just occurred. Nonetheless, she could feel the tears begin to leak from the corner of her eyes and couldn’t hide the catch in her breath.

Alex reached for her at the sound. Before she knew it, she was settled on his lap, her head tucked neatly against his shoulder and his arms wound tightly around her.

“Hush, sweetheart. Hush. This wasn’t your fault.” “You’re angry,” she accused between sniffles. He tightened his arms around her. “Not at you, Sophie.” “You’re mad at something,” she pointed out. “I’m furious with those men.” “Yes, but they’re not in this carriage and—” “And I’m mad at myself,” he finally acknowledged. Sophie tried to sit up to see his face, but he gently pressed her head back. “Just relax now. You’ve had a scare.”

“I’m much better, really,” she insisted but leaned against him all the same. “Why are you mad at yourself?”

Alex hesitated before he answered, and when he finally spoke his voice was rough with emotion. “I should never have let this happen.”

“It wasn’t your fault either, Alex.”

“I should have walked you safely to the carriage.”

“That’s absurd,” she declared. “It was only across the street.”

She felt him shake his head, his chin rubbing a scratchy trail across her forehead. “It doesn’t matter how close it was, it was my duty to see you safely there. I failed in that.”

A long silence followed in which Sophie gave thought to what he had said and what she might say to make things right again. Finally, she decided on, “Hmm.”

Alex pulled her up by the shoulders to look at her. “What does that mean, ‘hmm’?”

“Oh, nothing,” she responded offhandedly. “I just realized this is one of those silly masculine things.”

Alex rewarded her impertinence with a small smile. “I don’t think you’re allowed to use the words ‘silly’ and ‘masculine’ in the same sentence.”

“Really? How odd I’ve only just now heard of this rule.”

“Well, you have been out of the country for a while.”

“Hmm.”

Alex moved to settle her back against him.

“Alex, I’m much recovered, please let me go.”

“Not quite yet.”

“Now,” she insisted.

He only partially relented, allowing her to remain sitting upright but refusing to let her off his lap. “I can’t understand this sudden aversion you have—”

“It’s not an aversion,” she interrupted. “It’s a matter of employing a little common sense and good judgment.”

“Fine, stop wiggling, sweetheart. I can’t understand this sudden interest in proper decorum. You were perfectly willing to forgo such nuances last night.”

“That was last night.”

“I am trying to understand what has changed between last night and this evening. Have I done something to upset you?”

“No! No, it isn’t that. Truly, I just…We can’t…” She heaved a frustrated sigh and gave up. “We just can’t.”

“Again, I don’t understand.”

“And I can’t explain it to you. I just need you to respect my wishes in this.”

Alex picked her up and reluctantly placed her on the seat across from him. “If this is a game you’re playing, Sophie,” he whispered, “I’m warning you now, you won’t like it when I win.”

Sophie scowled at him. “I’m not playing a game with you. You needn’t become insulting.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing with all your suitors—Sir Frederick, Lord Verant, and their ilk—playing them for fools?” he asked with a trace of venom.

“I most certainly am not!” She knew he was annoyed by her rejection and was lashing out in reaction, but that didn’t make his remarks any less cutting.

She wasn’t playing with those gentlemen; she had very specific plans where they were concerned. Perhaps plotting and scheming were no more honorable than indulging in a game, but the final results were certainly different. She wasn’t trying to break their hearts or bilk them out of a fortune. She intended to make one of them into a respectable husband. It was a time-honored pursuit amongst unmarried women, and she refused to feel guilty about it. Or, at least, she refused to let Alex make her feel worse about it than she already did. He was wealthy, titled, and a man. The entire world was at his fingertips. He was in no position to judge what she did to survive.

She crossed her arms and stared out the window, pointedly ignoring him.

She heard him grumble to himself. Then shift in his seat. Then grumble some more. “I apologize if you felt insulted.”

“But you’re not sorry for the actual insulting,” she scoffed, turning her head to glare at him.

His forehead furrowed in a combination of frustration and confusion. “I fail to see the difference.”

“You just apologized to me for the way I felt, not for what you said. There is a world of difference, I assure you. Your version of an apology implies that you are in no way responsible for my feelings.”

“I am not interested in arguing semantics with you, Sophie.”

“That’s another evasion. And should you be interested, wars are fought over semantics.”

“I am not at war with you. This is a disagreement, not a battle.
And
I apologize for insulting you.”

He looked like he wanted to add a sarcastic little “happy
now?” to the end of that apology, but to his credit, he held his tongue.

“Thank you,” she replied sincerely, albeit a little primly. “Forgiven.”

“And forgotten?”

“Not yet. I’m not sure I’ve milked it for all it’s worth,” she said with a small teasing smile.

Alex accepted her overture of reconciliation with a smile of his own.

They rode a while in thoughtful silence. Sophie thought of all the ways she could shore up that wall she envisioned earlier between her and Alex.

Alex thought of all the ways he could bring down that wall Sophie seemed so intent on erecting between them.

They were nearly to her house when he suddenly transferred to the seat beside her and took her hand in his. “I will respect your wishes as you asked, Sophie. However, I ask that you respect mine as well.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “And what might those be?”

“You retain the right to rebuff my advances as you see fit, and I retain the right to make them whenever I can.”

She made a face of patent disbelief. “The two are hardly compatible.”

“But doubtless the combination will prove entertaining.”

“I don’t think—”

“You needn’t worry. I’ll not embarrass either of us by acting like one of your lovesick swains…hauling cartloads of flowers to your door and the like. I merely wish for us to spend some time together—go driving in the park, dance at the balls, visit some museums, that sort of thing.”

“I’m still not sure…”

“You needn’t worry I’ll scare off your beaux, either,” he stated impatiently. “The attentions of a duke will only increase your appeal, not diminish it.”

She hadn’t thought of that. A little healthy competition
might be just the thing to speed things along. Unfortunately, there was the small problem of Alex’s possessive tendencies.

“That might be true in the case of some dukes. You, however, tend to behave rather, shall we say, territorially?”

Alex grimaced, then sighed in the manner of one much put upon. “I hereby vow not to frighten off any young gentlemen—”

“Or old.”

He shot her a look of annoyance. “…not to frighten off
any
gentlemen who should choose to further their acquaintance with you, unless specifically asked to do so by yourself, or in the event that you are in immediate danger of harm.”

“Physical harm,” she amended. “I wouldn’t care for you to use that particular loophole every time I look like I might possibly be a little exasperated.”

“Good Lord, you are a natural-born barrister.”

“Yes, becoming a barrister was my second choice after ambassador. Sadly, both professions remain elusive to me. Now, finish the promise, if you please.”

Alex groaned but capitulated. “I promise not to frighten off any gentlemen who should choose to further their acquaintance with you unless specifically asked to do so by yourself, or in the event that you are in immediate danger of physical harm,” he recited dutifully.

She nodded along, then added, “Or serious social harm. I suppose that would be all right as well.”

“I’m not repeating that ridiculous promise again.”

“Of course not, it’s not as if you won’t be finding every possible excuse to get around it already. I simply meant that, should you choose to save me from social ruin, I won’t hold it against you.”

“How thoughtful,” he drawled. “You are a veritable fount of generosity,” he said wryly. In reality, he was already plotting ways around his impromptu vow. He still thought the old battle-wound tic had merit.

“I certainly try,” she returned pertly.

“Are we agreed then? Shall we respect each other’s wishes in this matter?”

“I’ll agree to spend some time with you, Alex. It’s not exactly a chore, is it? But I don’t promise to spend all my time with you.”

“Of course not,” he replied, mentally scratching the idea of working around his promise by keeping her too busy for it to become an issue.

“Then I agree to the arrangement.”

“Excellent. I suggest we seal the pact with—”

“A handshake?” she offered helpfully.

His gaze tracked down to her lips. “I was thinking of something a bit more binding.”

“A handshake is customary, I believe.”

“But hardly in the spirit of our little contract.”

“I think this argument might be in the spirit of our little contract,” she grumbled.

He couldn’t argue with that, so he ignored it. “I was thinking more along the lines of—”

“A blood oath?” she tried.

“What? No, a kiss. Where do you get these ideas?” he asked in bemusement.

“I believe I am allowed to rebuff your advances as I see fit.”

“You’d prefer a bloodletting over kissing me?”

“Well, it needn’t be a large cut,” she pointed out reasonably. “A minor pinprick would suffice. I have a hat pin in my reticule that will do nicely.”

Sophie reached into her bag and retrieved an implement that looked, to Alex at any rate, more like a lethal weapon than a clothing accessory. She waved it in front of him with a flourish.

“Here we are.”

He dropped her hand. “You have succeeded in ruining the moment.”

“What a pity.”

“Round one goes to you,” he said without rancor.

“I thought you said we weren’t battling.”

“As you’re brandishing a dagger, I’ll own myself wrong.”

“Well if we’re to spend any time together, you’ll have to get used to it.”

“The hat pin?”

“No, being wrong, as you will invariably be whenever we argue.”

“I am duly warned. Put the pin away, Sophie.”

She eyed him assessingly. “I’m not certain that’s a good idea just yet.”

“Perhaps not, but we’re about to arrive at your front door.”

“Oh!” She replaced the hat pin in her reticule and began making futile attempts to straighten her disheveled appearance. “Thank you for everything, Alex,” she said sincerely, if a bit distractedly.

“It was my pleasure. Shall I see you tomorrow then?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, slapping at the dirt on her skirts. “I may have other plans.”

“What a flatterer you are.”

She crammed her mostly crushed bonnet atop her head and tied the ribbons in a limp bow beneath her chin. “How do I look?”

Bedraggled, wrinkled, dirty, mussed and heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

Alex took her face in his hands and kissed her. He didn’t have time for anything more than a brief but passionate pressing of his lips to hers. But it was enough to heat his blood and render her breathless. He nipped her bottom lip playfully, then kissed her gently on the brow.

“I thought you said I had ruined the moment,” she whispered.

“You had,” he replied, “but only for a moment.”

Seventeen

S
ophie sighed and stared listlessly out the parlor window. For the last week she had attended every dinner, soiree, picnic, ball, and musicale that had promised even the smallest chance of interaction with one of her “Listed Gentlemen,” as Kate and Mirabelle had taken to calling her matrimonial candidates. To the delight of her suitors, she had diligently played the role of adorable twit at each event. And at each event she grew increasingly tired and disheartened by the charade.

Prior to coming to London, Sophie had participated in less than a dozen social occasions in her life, and she had been excited by the prospect of everything a season in London had to offer. But not like this.

She had never wanted to be an actual debutante. She just wanted to
see
them.

Now that she’d had the opportunity to do both, she was more than ready to move on to more pleasant endeavors. Thanks to her cousin, however, moving on wasn’t an option. She had to continue to act the insipid miss and catch a suitable husband. The trouble was, the more ardent her suitors became, the less confident she felt about her plan to marry one of them.