Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sophie wore an opaque purple gown that, under candlelight, shimmered and appeared almost black. If the ton wanted a woman who had fallen from grace, she would dress to suit the part and have them say such things to her face.

Not that she thought the ton would be so bold as to do so. She trusted what Harlow had said. The ton, for all their viperish ways, would not cut a duchess, not without absolute proof, which there was none.

And rightfully so, since she had never been with Lord Carr in the way they imagined. Just the thought of an affair with Carr made her shiver in revulsion, and she would not let him win a second time.

He would not force her out of London when she had done nothing wrong. He was the individual who should be ashamed and leave.

She would not.

Sophie raised her chin and thanked Lord Kemsley as he helped her from the carriage. Linking arms with Harlow, they walked into Lord and Lady Fox's Georgian mansion and started toward the ballroom doors.

The house was brimming with guests milling everywhere, the ballroom a crush and dancing already underway. A minuet played as they moved into the room, looking out for those closest to them. Tonight Sophie had worn the ducal jewels, demanding that those who did not recall and needed a reminder that she was the Duchess of Holland and would not cower at home, ashamed of an untrue on dit.

Lord and Lady Fox came and greeted them. Lady Fox was exceedingly gracious to Sophie and settled some of her nerves at being there. With her ladyship's generous welcome, it soon brought forth an array of guests to greet them, and it was only minutes until they were ensconced in a group of guests talking of the ball and the Season in general.

Sophie made a point of including herself in the conversation as much as possible. Her goal this evening was to appear nonchalant, even if many had not missed that Holland was not with her.

Nor could she see him in attendance herself. Was he still closeted away in his rooms at the Albany? She ought to call on him, demand that he speak to her, and make him apologize for not listening to her.

She deserved to be heard, at the very least. After all Henry professed to feel for her, his love and adoration sounded hollow when he would not even hear her side.

Anger burned hotter within her, turning to searing fury when Lord Carr dared to join their group with his wife. Sophie looked to Harlow, who pulled her to walk away. They only managed a few steps when the grating sound of Lord Carr's voice sounded behind them.

"Your Grace, Lady Kemsley, how striking you both look this evening. I was just telling my dear wife, Lady Carr, that we should come to speak to you."

Sophie turned and did not miss the knowing smirk that sat on Lady Carr's cool visage. How well her ladyship suited Lord Carr. Mean, cruel-spirited pair who ought not be speaking to her at all.

Sophie turned, not the least interested in anything either of them had to say.

"I do not think there is much to be said between us, my lord," Harlow cut in before Sophie could utter a word. "We are not friends, which may or may not surprise you, but one fact you ought to heed."

"Oh, come now," Lady Carr tittered. "You as well as I know the rumors between our families are untrue. There is no reason for us not to be friends."

"But your husband blackmailing the duke and myself is not a reason, or have you not told Lady Carr of your underhanded ways, my lord?" Sophie asked, wondering if he would own to his misdeeds.

Lady Carr waved Sophie's words aside. "He did not mean anything by those threats. We do not need your money, Your Grace."

"Indeed," Lord Carr agreed. "It was a mere game, you understand. A tournament I like to play when I know things about someone. If anything, you ought to be thanking me. For if it were not for myself, you would never have known of the bet at Whites that involved you. I do hope I have not caused trouble between yourself and the duke."

His lordship's merriment grated on Sophie's nerves, and she studied him a moment, his lip still healing from Henry's fist splitting it open. "I do not associate with liars, and you've done nothing but cause trouble for me here in London. You threw what you believed to be true in your own warped mind against the duke, knowing it would cause strife. You are a liar, sir. You are reprehensible."

Lord Carr's eyes narrowed at her words, and he stepped close. "Let us not quarrel, Your Grace. I would hate for our truth to be heard in the middle of a ball. We need to pretend to be friends and acquaintances with no hard feelings between us all if we're to survive the Season."

"I do not need you to survive the Season. I'm the Duchess of Holland, but know this," she said, bending toward his side. "I will ruin your wife's chances to move forward and prosper in society should you not stem these rumors of us. You forced me all those years ago, raped me, and you know you did. If you want your children and their children's children to have great marriages and keep your minuscule estate prosperous, you will do as I say, and from this night, never darken another ball that I'm to attend ever again. Do you understand, my lord?"

He glanced about nervously. "Of course, Your Grace. I understand perfectly. No harm meant, truly. I only wished to recount old times."

"Of course you did, dearest," Lady Carr said, patting his arm.

Sophie nodded toward the ballroom door. "I believe you have another event to attend this evening, so we would hate to keep you a moment longer. Good evening to you both," Sophie said, forcing the nerves down that threatened her knees and made her voice tremble.

How she loathed Carr. Being so close to him made her want to run, yet she could not. No longer would she allow him to make her cower and hide from the past. Hide from him.

He was the hazard, not her. He was the villain, she the victim, and no longer would she allow him to have any power over her.

"But we've only just arrived," Lady Carr argued, looking to her husband for clarification.

Lord Carr schooled his features and made a solid attempt to appear agreeable to Sophie's command. But his eyes, a window to a person's soul, were cold and alight with annoyance at her threat.

"The Mason's ball, my dear. We have such a busy schedule that we're all over Mayfair this evening. Thank you for reminding me, Your Grace." He threw her a small smile. "Good evening to you both."

"Goodbye," Sophie stated, the last word she would ever utter to the man. Harlow did not bother to say her goodbyes at all.

They watched in satisfaction as the Carrs left the ball. With his leaving, a weight lifted from Sophie's shoulders for the first time in days. She had defended herself and her husband. Never again would she allow Carr any power over her, not in society or her own mind.

"I'm so proud of you, Sophie," Harlow said, squeezing her arm and moving them toward a footman holding a silver salver of champagne. They procured a glass each and tapped the edge of the crystal flutes together in salute.

"Here's to your future and for making Lord Carr run away like a scared little boy."

Sophie laughed for the first time since Henry had left, and the future seemed much brighter, more possible. All that was required now was for Henry to apologize for the wager he had yet to explain and to give her what she deserved, a moment of his time.

He would believe her, the stubborn fool, and if he did, maybe she would think about listening to why he'd included his name in the Whites betting book. "I'll not be looked down on by anyone in this society for crimes that were not mine. Henry will come around, and if he does not, then that will be his mistake," she said, hoping it did not come to that but unwilling to bend for anyone again. Not when it came to her sanity and health.

Harlow tapped her glass a second time against hers. "That deserves another toast."

And so it did.