Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke (22 page)

“See that you do.”

“Don’t press me, Blackwood.” Lucifer knew he’d been pushed near enough to the edge of his patience already today.

Keating folded his arms. “I owe you a great deal, Adam. I do not owe you my servitude. No one here does. You can’t control everything.”

Adam gazed at him for a moment. He’d been about to ask a favor, for one of the Blackwoods to speak to Sophia about the impression she was making. Now he clearly couldn’t do that without proving Keating correct. Anger bit at him again. “Go back to your pretty wife. And don’t cross me.
I
owe
you
nothing.”

With a stiff nod, Keating turned his back and walked away. Despite himself, Adam was impressed. Seven or eight months ago, Keating would have swung at him. And that would have been an interesting brawl—and one he wasn’t entirely certain he would have won.

Drawing his thoughts and his temper back in, he handed his half-empty glass of wine to a footman. Considering his mood, he would not be drinking anything more this evening. If he went too far tonight, he would be facing nearly forty witnesses.

“Greaves,” Timmerlane called, “how many decks of cards do you have here? Sophia has agreed to deal vingt-et-un for us tonight.”

“Oh, please, Lord Timmerlane,” his sister put in with a high-pitched laugh, “this is a respectable home, not a gambling establishment.”

That was it. The chit was trying to give him an apoplexy. He sent Sophia a glare, but she was laughing at something Henning said and didn’t even notice him walking up behind her. “Miss White.”

Starting, she turned around. The smile on her face faltered a little at his expression but didn’t vanish completely. “Good evening, Your Grace. Care to join us for cards?”

He could practically feel the heat coming off her, making him want to close on her and kiss her and shake some sense into her all at the same time. “Play cards tomorrow, if you like. Tonight I’ve arranged for an orchestra to come up from Hanlith.”

Sylvia Hart materialized at his side. “Oh, is there to be dancing? Please say there will be dancing!”

“Yes, there will be dancing.”

“Waltzes, I hope,” her sister chimed in. “At least two.”

“Three,” he decided, still glaring at Sophia.

That chit, though, merely sighed. “That sounds wonderful. I’m afraid I twisted my ankle romping with the dogs earlier, but I would love to watch the rest of you.”

And so however much he’d contemplated it, however well he thought he’d plotted it, with one sentence she’d managed to evade him yet again. For the moment. For the damned moment.

TEN

At three minutes past midnight Sophia excused herself from the festivities and followed Camille upstairs in the direction of their respective bedchambers.

“I like Ivy Flanagan,” she said, wrapping her arm around her friend’s. “Are you going to visit her and James as they asked?”

“We may,” Cammy conceded with a tired smile. “I hadn’t realized that James knew Keating at Cambridge. Keating says he’s a good man, even if he is Irish.”

Sophia chuckled. “I think you should go. You need to meet people who don’t give a fig about Society gossip.”

“It’s been … interesting, deciphering former friends and deciding whether I can trust new ones. And you and Mr. Loines will always be welcome at Havard’s Glen, you know.”

“I don’t think that will ever happen, but it’s very nice of you to say.” They stopped outside Cammy’s door. “I’m so glad you’ve found a happy life, Cammy.”

“I am happy. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

“I do like hearing you say that, my love.” Keating’s low drawl came from down the hallway. He stopped on Cammy’s other side and put his arm across her shoulders, leaning in to kiss his wife.

“I thought you were going to stay downstairs and smoke all of Greaves’s cigars.”

Keating shook his head. “I decided it would be more fun up here.”

As Cammy blushed, Sophia laughed again. “I certainly can’t compete with that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Before she could walk down the hallway to her own room, Keating took her arm. “Greaves is angry,” he muttered. “He’s not particularly nice when he’s angry. Be wary.”

“I will be.” She shrugged free. “Good night, Blackwoods.”

Once she slipped into her quiet, firelit room, she leaned back against the closed door and blew out her breath. So Adam was angry, was he? Well, he was the one who’d decided that everything that had happened before his silly guests arrived was unacceptable now. That she was an embarrassment. That the only reason she could possibly be there was to be his mistress. And now that he had a wife to choose, she was supposed to be ignored or ridiculed until she went away. That was fine for him, but she wasn’t about to stop living simply because he had better things to do and better people with whom to chat.

“Arrogant man,” she muttered, straightening again to unbutton her gown and pull on her comfortable, oversized night rail.

Blowing out the candle set beside her bed, she slipped beneath the warm covers. Generally she had very little trouble falling asleep—but not tonight. She turned over, pounding her pillow into a comfortable shape, then rolled back the other way. If everyone thought she was Adam’s mistress, then once the bridal competition narrowed down a bit more, she would find herself more directly disliked. A duke might not marry her, but no duchess wanted to see her husband flirting about with the likes of her. Not even for a few days, not even before she went to marry the vicar of Gulval.

Sophia threw off the covers and stood up. She didn’t care about these people—most of them, anyway—any more than they cared about her. All she’d ever wanted was to be left alone to live her life as she chose, but they couldn’t even let her do that.

Stalking to the window, she pushed aside the heavy curtains. Tonight moonlight glinted silvery blue across the snow, still and silent and stark. Cold radiated from the glass, but it served to cool her temper a little. All things considered, she was there because she still wanted to be.

The question remained, was it better or worse to experience a few moments to treasure in her memory, when those same moments could be a dagger of might-have-beens in her heart? For now the answer was simple, in that she would much rather be here in the company of a few dear friends than moping about the Tantalus. But when she no longer had access to these friends, she wasn’t certain she would feel the same.

Air moved around her legs, and she turned. Silently her door inched open, so slowly and carefully that if she’d been covered up in bed, she never would have noticed. The hallway beyond was dark and quiet, and all she could make out was the edge of a shadow blacker than its surroundings.

So now someone was trying to spy on her? Scowling, Sophia rushed forward, grabbed the door handle, and yanked the door open.

Adam Baswich stood there, his expression for once easy to decipher. Her abrupt appearance had plainly stunned him.

Sophia opened her mouth to demand an explanation for his presence. Before she could do more than draw a breath, though, he clamped a hand over her mouth and barged into the room.

He swung the door closed, half carrying her into the middle of the room. Once she had her feet back under her, she pushed away from him. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, yanking the sagging sleeve of her night rail back onto her shoulder. “You think I’m a fool, remember?”

“Keep your voice down,” he warned in a low tone. “You said you twisted your ankle. I was assisting you into the room.”

“Well, assist yourself out of the room.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere until you come to your senses.”

Now, wasn’t that just like a man?
Putting her hands on her hips, Sophia glowered at him. “I’m not the one sneaking into people’s bedchambers.”

“I thought you might not be alone, with the way Burroughs kept looking at you all evening.”

That stopped her for a moment, considering she’d been thinking the same thing about Adam and Lady Caroline. “Oh, please. He’s a rake and a braggart.”

“Someone impressed you sometime or other. You weren’t a virgin when we met.”

Momentarily ignoring the hypocrisy of that statement, she stalked to the hearth, digging an iron poker into the fire to stir up the dying flames and brighten the room a little. “Actually, I was, when we first met. But that was nearly two years ago. And they were interesting men, not people so enamored of the sound of their own voices that your own conversation doesn’t even signify.”

He closed the distance she’d put between them. “‘They’? How many were there?”

“You answer that question, and I will.”

After a moment spent glaring at her, he walked over to look out her window. “I’m not here to discuss your string of lovers.”

It didn’t seem likely that two previous lovers equaled a string, but she set aside the poker and straightened. “Ah, yes. You mentioned something about my lost senses. But I’m still behaving in precisely the same manner I was a fortnight ago.”

“This is nothing to jest about, Sophia. You can’t go about in trousers or throwing things at people.”

She expected to hear it, but it still hurt. “Evidently I can.”

His shoulders tensed. “You did it deliberately,” he said, his voice a low growl.

“Of course I did,” she returned. “No one throws a snowball by accident. And you deserved it.”

“You went rolling about in the snow on purpose.” Slowly he drew the curtains closed again, the room dimming with the absence of the moonlight. “The question is, did you do it to aggravate me, or because you know what those damned trousers do to me?”

A low shiver went through her. So even if he’d decided she was
too
unconventional, he still desired her. But she hadn’t been the one ignoring him; it was the other way around. “I am what the world and circumstance have made me,” she said after a moment, trying to shake herself free of the distraction of having him in her room. “Surely you’re aware of that by now. Don’t expect me to be embarrassed just because you would be, and don’t give me orders.”

“You feel comfortable talking back to me, do you?” he murmured.

Not so much comfortable as … electrified, but that didn’t leave her any more inclined to give in to his wish for her to be like everyone else. “I’m having the holiday
I
want. If that’s not acceptable, then I’ll leave. I offered to do that the day I arrived, if you’ll recall.”

“I recall.” His jaw clenched. “It would be easier if you left.”

Stunned surprise sucked all the air out of her lungs. He knew how much this holiday meant to her, and he knew why that was so. Well. At least it would be easier now to look back on these weeks without the keen longing she feared would leave Greaves Park with her. “I’ll be gone before breakfast, then.” Her voice shook a little, but she didn’t particularly care.

“I said it would be easier. You set everything on its ear. With you running loose here, someone’s going to get hurt. More than likely me. But I didn’t say you should go.”

Sophia snatched one of her drying boots set before the fire and threw it at him. He must have expected it, because he caught the thing just before it could smack him in the chest. Lifting an eyebrow, he dropped it back to the floor.

“You are no gentleman, sir,” she ground out. “You say I should leave, then offer me a very nice compliment, and then tell me you were only jesting about having me go? Was that to make me feel grateful? I have enough troubles awaiting me without you adding to them.”

His expression darkened. “That’s enough, Sophia.”

“It certainly is. You and Caroline Emery can laugh all about it after I go. She’s the one you’ve settled on, isn’t she?”

He stalked directly in front of her. “You aren’t leaving,” he stated.

“Go to the dev—”

Adam caught her by the back of her night rail as she stalked past him toward the door. Evidently she intended to walk to Hanlith barefoot and in her night clothes. Before she could lift a hand to hit him, he spun her around, caught both her hands in one of his, and closed his mouth over hers.

Good-natured Sophia evidently had a temper at the end of her long fuse, and he’d finally lit it. That seemed only fair. He shouldn’t have to be the only one driven mad in this little scramble. In her opinion he’d clearly done something wrong, and he understood that even though he tended to think just the opposite. But by God she gave as good as she got, and he had to admire that about her. Almost as much as he admired the way her enormous slip fell down from her shoulders. He’d been bloody patient enough.

Only when she began kissing him back did he release his grip on her hands. Sophia slid her arms around his shoulders, but thankfully didn’t then attempt to strangle him. Instead she shoved. Reluctantly he gave way, straightening. “No more arguing,” he cut in, before she could begin something else. “Not tonight, at least.”

She looked him squarely in the eye. “I’m not your mistress. I happen to want you, and that’s all this is.”

If she had been his mistress, she wouldn’t have been nearly as much trouble. “I want you as well,” he agreed, then closed on her again.

Perhaps she’d acted as she had today to declare her … defiance of Society in general. As part of that Society, he found it both dismaying and arousing. One swift tug reduced her night rail to a puddle around her feet. Her hair was already loose, and he tangled his fingers into the heavy mass and gently pulled back, exposing her throat to his kisses.

Sophia moaned, and sharp arousal speared through him, decimating the frustration that had dogged his heels all day. Bending, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to her bed.

Women pursued him all the time, and for the past three days he’d felt rather like the last grain seed in a meadow full of geese. And he still found her the most interesting chit in the house. Sophia, who didn’t follow the rules, who embarrassed him and hurled snowballs and boots at him. Sliding onto the bed beside her, he took one of her breasts into his mouth.

Gasping again, she reached up to push off his jacket. With his mouth occupied, Adam unfastened his waistcoat and cravat and cast them aside. When he sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots, she moved up behind him, pressing her warm breasts against his back. Sophia kissed the nape of his neck, then reached around his shoulders to unfasten his trousers.