The Wedding Duel

  Sophie stepped forward. "They'll be along soon enough. One does need to part company now and then."

  Algany's gaze transferred back to Sophie. "I quite agree. A diet should always be full of variety. As the same food time after time grows boring."

  Sophie blinked and wondered if she should just disagree on principle. "I would imagine you have enough experience to know . . ."

  Algany smiled a wolfish smile.

  ". . . what is pleasing to you, of course. But I fear there are those of us who would dine on the same fare night after night and never grow tired of it."

  "Oh, you shall grow tired of the same meal. And I shall be happy to be your guide in exploring new tastes when you do." He leaned his head sideways and his heavy-lidded gaze assessed Amelia again. "Whenever you should like a supper companion, I'm ready to aid." He bowed slightly and moved away.

  "Oh, Lord," whispered Amelia. Her hand against her chest, her eyes followed Algany's movements across the room.

  "What?" asked Sophie.

  "You shouldn't encourage him." Amelia's attention remained riveted on him.

  "I was trying to discourage him." Sophie rather thought that her dissuasion was compelling Algany to look for greener pastures in Amelia.

  "He's ruined more than one young lady. How could you have allowed him to take you to the theater?"

  "I didn't know."

  Amelia's rapt fascination with Lord Algany's retreating figure ended. Her soft gaze landed on Sophie's face, and after a second of studying her, she said, "How could you? Even those who are warned off, fall prey to his magnetism. They say he will resort to foul means if he can't get what he wants by fair."

  "I really don't find him all that charming."

  "You don't? He's very good-looking."

  Sophie shrugged. She thought he was rather full of himself and pushy. Although, truth to tell, on this evening in the polite company, he hadn't pushed particularly hard.

  "Yes, really, why would you want the attentions of Lord Algany when you are married to Keene?"

  Yes, why indeed? Except her marriage to Keene left her feeling unfulfilled. She didn't think Algany would make her feel any better, not when, like Keene, he seemed equally interested in Amelia.

  FIFTEEN

  Later that week, Sophie skipped down the stairs, her rose-pink ball gown layered with silver netting caught in her hand. Keene stood near the door, dressed in a black evening clothes. His gaze raked over her and stopped on her legs. Her heart tripped harder in her chest. Would that he didn't affect her so.

  After a second, he closed his eyes. "Lower your skirt, madam."

  Sophie let the material fall and continued down the stairs in a sedate walk.

  Keene looked past her to the stairs. "Shall we go?"

  Amelia's gloved hand trailed lightly down the railing as she descended.

  Sophie bit back a wave of consternation. How would Keene ever forget her boisterousness when confronted by Amelia's complete decorum at every turn?

  "Do you know who else might be attending?" Amelia asked.

  "Victor might. You don't know?"

  "I haven't been out much since the baby."

  Keene led them out to the waiting carriage and handed them up. As before, he sat across from Sophie. She watched the quiet exchange between Amelia and Keene.

  Amelia turned to Sophie. "Is there anything you wish to know?"

  Sophie shrugged and shook her head.

  "Have Amelia instruct you in manners."

  "I wasn't raised in a barn, Keene. I have a fair idea of how to address people. I should imagine it is the same in the country as at a ball."

  "I mean that you can't run around a ballroom with your skirts hitched to your knees."

  "I rarely run in ballrooms."

  Amelia followed the exchange without speaking.

  Sophie's excitement over attending a ball was being sucked out of her. When they finally reached the house and exited the carriage, Amelia drew her aside.

  Sophie wanted to brush off the hand around her arm.

  "Don't let him perturb you. I think Keene is quiet nervous for you."

  "He is quite nervous I shall embarrass him."

  Amelia shook her head. "Your exuberance will be regarded as refreshing; don't feel you must follow my manner."

  "But you are held out as my example."

  "I . . ." Amelia's stared into Sophie's eyes and then dipped her head. "I am always quite certain I shall be a social outcast if I slip."

  "What are you two whispering?" Keene interrupted.

  "Last-minute advice," answered Amelia smoothly.

  Once they had passed the reception line where they were introduced to the debutante whose sparkling eyes restored Sophie's excitement, they stepped into a room filled with ladies dressed in all colors of the rainbow. Musicians played at the far end of the room on a raised dais. Dancing hadn't begun yet. Sophie glanced around, eager to test her memory of names and faces of people with the complete confidence of knowing Amelia would supply her with the information if she failed.

  A young man dressed in blue superfine approached and greeted Amelia. He turned expectantly toward Sophie.

  Amelia made the introduction.

  "May I beg a dance of you later?"

  Keene surged forward, then hovered over her shoulder. Was he afraid she couldn't correctly accept an invitation to dance?

  "I should enjoy that." Sophie hoped that her response had enough graciousness to please her husband.

  "I shall return later to claim it," said the man with a bow.

  Keene scowled at her. Had she done something wrong?

  "You do want her to fit in, don't you?" Amelia asked.

  He stalked away.

  "Where is he going, now?" asked Sophie.

  "I should imagine he's seeking the refreshments. He looked in need of something cooling." A soft smile danced across Amelia's lips as she watched Keene walk away.

  Sophie shut her eyes and forced her concerns about her husband and Amelia out of her head. She was here to have a good time, and she would enjoy the dancing.

  She opened her eyes and spotted her friend Mary Frances across the room. She smiled and waved eagerly.

  Mary Frances looked up from where she assisted an elderly man into a chair. She gave a discreet wave and took the chair beside the man, leaning close to speak into his ear.

  Sophie asked, "Do you know, is that gentleman Miss Chandler's father?"

  Amelia shook her head. "That is the recently widowed earl of Brumley. I suppose he is on the lookout for a new wife."

  Victor joined them. "Brumley? Out of the card rooms is he?"

  Amelia nodded.

  "Is that his latest prey?" He nodded toward Mary Frances.

  "Possibly. Perhaps we should warn her."

  If Mary Frances was in any danger, of course they should warn her. Only Sophie hadn't the slightest idea what hazard the two of them were discussing.

  "Rather too pretty to be his victim," Amelia said.

  Victor shook his head. "Far too young."

  Sophie frowned. She imagined that Mary Frances would be able to outwalk the elderly man, should he attempt anything untoward. "You sound as if he plans to slaughter her and eat her for breakfast."

  Victor took pity on Sophie. "Brumley marries rich women and then gambles away all their money."

  "Oh."

  "No need to worry. He prefers widows," Amelia said.

  "With an impeccable pedigree and not likely to outlive the depths of their pockets."

  "The last one was quite a bit older than he."

  Sophie was taken aback. How could anyone have been older? "She must have been quite stricken in years."

  "Rather. Still, if Miss Chandler's pockets are very deep, he might consider her a fair catch." Victor made a leg. "Excuse me. I believe duty calls upon me to rescue the fair maiden."

  Miss Cecilia Covens took the floor with her father. Other couples joined them. The young man who had asked for a d
ance earlier approached. Sophie allowed him to guide her into the set. Across the room Victor led Miss Chandler onto the floor. Thrilled to see her friends together, she smiled at her partner, but the smile froze on her face as she noticed Keene leading Amelia into another group.

  But then, Keene couldn't dance with her if she was dancing with someone else, could he? Undoubtedly he would ask her to dance later. Besides, it wasn't as if she wanted him hanging on her sleeve every minute.

  She turned her attention to her partner. With the music and the accompanying dance movements, she couldn't stay cross. Before long, she was laughing at the nonsensical ramblings of her companion and adding her own. She caught Keene's dark eyes and flashed him a smile.

  Keene didn't feel like smiling, not as long as Sophie was enjoying herself too freely with her dancing partner. He wanted to take the man and pound his face into the floor. The bloodthirsty urge came from nowhere and shocked Keene. He attributed his violent reaction to not knowing who fathered Sophie's child and his suspicion of every man she graced with her smile.

  "I think she's having a good time."

  Keene swiveled back to look at Amelia's averted face. "But you're not?"

  She shrugged. "Of course, I'm having a wonderful time."

  "George will come around."

  Amelia turned hopeful blue eyes in his direction. "Did you see Regina today?"

  Her concern about her daughter softened his temper. He gave her news that a year ago he would have considered absurd: how many times Regina had nursed, had her nappies changed, how long she'd slept. Amelia hung on his discourse as if he were reciting the secret recipe for ambrosia.

  "How our conversations have digressed," said Keene.

  Amelia smiled softly.

  Across the room, Sophie's infectious laughter peeled. That he could hear her from this distance made him wonder if everyone would turn and stare. When he glanced around, no one seemed to be taking any notice. Nevertheless, he wished she would restrain herself. Her lack of decorum made him queasy.

  He wanted to snatch her out of the ballroom and pull her into a dark corner and. . . . The image that popped into his head wasn't of a lecture. No, the sight of her sheer pink stockings as she descended the stairs early in the evening fostered fantasies of untying her garters. The idea of removing them tormented him.

  Amelia said something he hadn't heard. "What?"

  "I asked if you mean to dance with Sophie?"

  Dance with her? How could he dance with her and not be crazy to make love to her? Yet, he couldn't make her his wife. He couldn't give her the fuel to perpetuate her charade. "No, I believe I shall ask Victor to escort the two of you home."

  Only when he was outside on the street, the cool night air soothing his heated skin, did it occur to him, that asking Victor to escort Amelia in a closed carriage was possibly not the smartest of choices.

  * * *

  Sophie watched her husband exit from the ballroom. Her throat grew tight. She swallowed hard around a barrier that hadn't been there a minute ago.

  "Might I have the next dance?"

  Sophie swiveled around and caught the too-knowing expression of Lord Algany. "By all means."

  Her voice trembled as she spoke, and she wished she could be more discreet with her emotions. Across the room, Amelia appeared totally serene as she spoke with a young woman. Had she and Keene disagreed over something? Was that why he left with such a scowl on his face?

  "Perhaps I should fetch you a drink instead."

  "I should enjoy a dance, better."

  Algany held out his arm and Sophie placed her gloved hand on his sleeve. He leaned close to her ear, his breath stirring her hair. "Your husband is a fool to leave you alone."

  "I'm not alone," she whispered.

  "No, you have me at your disposal, my dearest."

  But she was alone, and as charming as Lord Algany could be, she couldn't forget the pressure he'd put on her at the theater, so when the dance ended, she claimed a prior obligation to dance with Lord Wedmont.

  Algany insisted on handing her over himself. Victor looked as though he was headed in Miss Coven's direction when Sophie rapped him with her fan. "Have you forgotten you promised this dance to me?"

  "Sophie, I did not!" He turned and saw Lord Algany and added, ". . . realize it was this one. I thought you promised me a waltz." Victor extended his arm. He stalked out into the set. "I promised this one to the guest of honor."

  "I'm sorry. I'll tell her it was my fault for mistaking the dance, and you were too gentlemanly to point it out."

  "I daresay she'll find a replacement." Victor shrugged.

  Sophie watched as Algany approached Amelia. Her prior dance partner was not suffering the loss of her company. Victor wasn't happy about dancing with her, and Keene hadn't even bothered. "I should have enjoyed myself better in Algany's company."

  The man at least wanted to dance with her.

  "I couldn't very well leave you with him. Keene would kill me."

  "More like to send me back to the country."

  "He can't with Amelia staying there."

  That Keene only wanted her to stay in London as a cover for Amelia's stay was exactly what Sophie feared.

  * * *

  Keene stared across the dimly lit room as his wife laughed. The candlelight danced on her short blonde curls. Soon she would take the floor with one of the men crowding around her. In just a couple of weeks, she had blossomed into, if not the toast of the season, at least one of the young matrons favored by several regular admirers. Amelia would be sure she did not dance more than twice with any one man. Although, to give his wife her due, Keene had never seen her exhibit favoritism toward any man other than Victor.

  "Amelia looks tired," Victor commented.

  Keene glanced around to be sure no one could overhear. "I think she is worn out waiting for George to make a decision."

  "Has she tried talking to him?"

  Keene shook his head.

  "Sophie looks quite animated."

  "Her natural state."

  Sophie laughed and skipped up to her friend Mary Frances.

  Keene shook his head. Amelia cast a strained glance in their direction. Her mouth suddenly rounded in an "O" and she swiveled around, presenting her back to them. Keene looked to see what horror Sophie had committed, but she was simply talking to the heiress.

  Victor looked over his shoulder toward the door. "George."

  Keene turned around.

  "Excuse me," said Victor, making a polite bow.

  Coward.

  When George reached his side, Keene said, "It's good to see you here."

  "I thought I should make an appearance. Have you seen my wife?"

  "Yes." Keene once again glanced around to make sure no one hovered close.

  "That bastard!"

  Keene glanced over his shoulder to see Victor leading Amelia to the dance floor. He grabbed George's arm. "Get a grip, man."

  Her uncertain glance in their direction tore at Keene's heart.

  "Let's go to the Cocoa Tree. The company here bores me," said George.

  Keene nodded. He didn't want to stay and watch Sophie. The more he watched her, the more he wanted her, and the harder it became to sleep at night, knowing she was in the next room, the next bed, her pregnancy still concealed, still imperceptible. There were moments, too many moments, when he didn't care any longer.

  His brother's friend and one time second, John, entered the assembly hall as they approached the exit.

  "Hello, Davies. Keeting, how's the baby?"

  George smiled. "She holds her head up a bit now."

  Keene could have wept with relief at the signs of acceptance, even joy, on George's face. After they exchanged pleasantries with the young man, George and Keene climbed into George's carriage.

  "Are you feeling better about her?"

  George scowled. "I cannot forget that she is not mine."

  Keene rubbed his forehead. "You needn't forget, if you can fo
rgive."

  "You don't understand."

  Impatience burst through Keene. He understood. Why was it so hard for everyone to be honest? Why did Sophie persist in pretending she didn't understand his hints to spill the soup? For that matter, why hadn't he told George his own circumstances? Not that he'd ever lied except by omission. "I understand what it will be like for your daughter. God forbid there is ever another child."

  "What do you mean?" asked George sharply.

  "I mean I am not my father's son. Richard was his, but I was not."

  He turned to the window. The gas lamps lining the street cast pale globes of light in a futile attempt to ward off darkness.

  George's shocked gaze weighed on Keene.

  "I'm sorry, I shan't make the Cocoa Tree tonight. If you'll put me down, I'll catch a hackney home."

  George tapped on the speak-through panel to the coachman's box and directed his coachman to Keene's square. He slid the window shut. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

  The carriage swayed on the cobbled streets. George slumped in his seat. After some time, he said, "I don't know how your father did it. He must be a better man than I to accept a child by another man and continue on with his wife."

  "I don't know. He cared for me, raised me. Perhaps he knew before I was born. He never spoke to me about it directly, but I always knew I was a burden, not a blessing."

  "The devil, you say."

  "I don't think he should have minded so much if I were not his heir."

  George reached across the open space and squeezed his arm. "Yes, it makes sense. I thought he disliked your way of life, but Richard was no better. And you two never looked alike."

  A wave of sadness crept over Keene. "No, we didn't."

  Sophie looked more like his half brother than he did. George stepped down from the carriage at Keene's house and walked with him to the door. "Are things well with Sophie and you?"

  Keene shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose."

  "I hope so. You deserve happiness."

  "It doesn't come because one is entitled. I fear it must be worked upon."

  At one time Keene had thought that regular funds would keep him happy, but the dowry draft still sat locked in his drawer. His father had carried through on his promise to support him and Sophie, but the money burdened Keene. When he had supported himself through gambling, there had been a certain freedom.

  He climbed the stairs to his room. He opened the door to Sophie's bedroom and stood looking in. There were more and more nights when he peeked in to see her sleeping, her voluminous nightgown shrouding her too-perfect figure.