Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

“ T his is ridiculous,” Sophia mumbled, smoothing down the fine lavender muslin of her gown. “Who attends a ball the day before their wedding? There is so much I still need to do, things that need my attention—things that Mother can’t be left to tend to alone.”

James elbowed her in the side. “Because you need it, dear sister. Don’t think I have not seen the circles under your eyes or heard you pacing your bedchamber or heard your weary sighs.”

His voice was lighthearted, but his intention was not. Sophia could tell that he was worried about her. Everyone else either was too busy to notice her increasing anxiety or helpfully suggested that she had brought it upon herself, so she ought to grin and bear it.

As for her future husband, she had heard nothing from him for three weeks. He had not written to anyone but her father, had not visited, had not sent any gifts or fancies, had not behaved as a betrothed should… which was probably for the best. If she saw him, it might become too real, shattering her resolve to be the heroine of the hour.

“We don’t know when your next outing into Society will be,” James continued, finding his sister’s hand and holding it tightly. “You should enjoy tonight as if tomorrow will not happen.”

Sophia cast him a curious sideways glance. “You almost sound like you don’t want the marriage to proceed.”

It took a minute for James to respond, his brow furrowing. “Perhaps I don’t.”

Sophia looked at him with a heavy heart. He looked devastated. It was very rare for her older brother to express negative feelings so openly, having been taught from childhood that, as the heir apparent, he should be stoic and reserved. Emotions were for those who would not have a marquisate on their shoulders one day.

“James…”

“I’ll still help you and carry this marriage forward, I promise,” he replied softly. “I promised you, and I promised Mother and Father, and you know your big brother never breaks a promise… but I suspect I will always regret not letting you ride away.”

She squeezed his hand. “You and me both, but let’s not tell Mother and Father. Mama has just come around to the notion—I think the wedding preparation has placated her—and Papa keeps glancing at me with such sad eyes. I would hate to make it worse.”

“You have my word.” James smiled, pretending to lock his mouth with an invisible key. “I am just sorry you won’t get your wild dream of being a wayward, foul-mouthed, daring, cautionary tale of a spinster.”

Sophia laughed at that, surprised by the bubbling joy of it. She had not thought she would be able to laugh at all, with tomorrow rushing towards her, unstoppable and determined.

“As am I, Brother.” She grinned. “I had high hopes of giving the matrons of Society nightmares, making them worry that their darling daughters might end up like me—alone, unwed, and utterly content with their situations.”

But James did not laugh, staring down into his lap. “I always supported your decision to be a spinster, but I suppose I always had a faint hope that you’d find a love match. Someone worthy of you.”

“James, I thought you said I should pretend that tomorrow will not happen,” she prompted gently, for if they were both stuck in the mire of melancholy, it would make for a very dull evening. And she wanted her last evening of freedom to be a memorable one.

He brightened a little and smacked his forehead. “Quite right you are! So, tell me. On this fine evening, will you be persuaded to dance?”

“We can’t talk about that either,” she chided, shuddering at the thought.

Lord and Lady Whittaker’s grand manor was buzzing with chatter and laughter. Despite her aversion to dancing, Sophia loved balls, even if it was just for the music and the food. That night was no exception, a lively orchestra playing a jaunty tune that made her heart sing, while the buffet tables in the refreshment room were piled high with delicacies that made her mouth water: sweetmeats, hors d’oeuvres, fresh fruits, cakes, and a dedicated servant to shave ice from an impressive block, adding fruity syrup in vivid colors.

As she floated through the venue with glee, James escorted her with a barely disguised frown on his face. She hoped to see some of her old friends, to spend some time with them and gossip—for, as her brother had said, she did not know when she might be granted another opportunity.

“There are so many people. I have not seen a ball like this in ages!” she exclaimed with joy, all thoughts of tomorrow soundly evicted from her mind. “Oh, I think I see Veronica!”

James chuckled stiffly. “Off you go then. I’ll try and find someone I can talk with, and failing that, I shall defenestrate myself.”

“Oh, Brother, don’t be so dramatic.” Sophia hesitated, wondering if it was entirely proper for her chaperone to leave her.

He seemed to notice and leaned in to whisper, “There is nothing they can say about you now. Tonight, you are the most powerful, the most independent that you will ever be, completely protected from scandal and gossip. Savor it.” He let go of her hand. “See you later, Sister. I hope to be regaled with your many adventures.”

Bursting with renewed courage, Sophia held her chin up high and walked off to mingle with the other guests, having lost sight of her old friend Veronica. She started by wandering around and trying to catch conversations and gossip. She loved a good, juicy bit of gossip, despite often being at the center of it. To get the choicest morsels, she knew to keep close to the older women of the ton, as they were the ones circulating the freshest cuts of hearsay.

First of all, she caught herself up on the most recent scandals. Having isolated herself at home for three weeks, she was woefully behind. Lord Smythe had ended up giving a massive dowry to his illegitimate daughter, while Lady Davenport had been caught wasting a quarter of the family fortune in different gambling establishments, dressed as a gentleman! All very titillating, of course, but tonight, she was looking for something a little more… specific.

After a few minutes of skulking around like a badger in the bushes, she finally caught something.

“Did you hear about the Pratt-Kendall debacle?” The question came from a feminine voice a few meters away.

Sophia stepped closer with her back to them, making sure they couldn’t see her face.

“Oh, about the duel?” another voice responded, this one of a man. “That is old and tired news, surely.”

“The wedding is not,” the first voice chided irritably. “It is tomorrow, and not a single one of us has been invited. I suppose they know we shall roll our eyes and titter behind our hands at the ridiculousness of it all.”

Another female voice joined in. “It reeks of desperation, does it not? The Duke of Heathcote can have any lady he desires, yet he has wasted the honor on that… shelved spinster.”

“Ah…” The man cleared his throat awkwardly. “Darling, I believe we were invited, but I thought it was a jape. A Pratt and a Kendall marrying? Who would not?”

The first woman—the man’s wife, presumably—gasped in horror. “You must remedy this! Do you know how important this is? I must be there!”

“It is not sport, darling,” the man replied. “I am almost twice as glad I did not respond. It is beneath us to involve ourselves in the chaos of others.”

The other female chuckled. “Chaos, indeed. The two families will be at each other’s throats before the end of the year again, mark my words. At least it will give that drab spinster some amusement. I doubt she has much to look forward to.”

Sophia had heard enough. She stepped up, approaching the group of three. She couldn’t let herself or her family name be besmirched as a woman forced into a marriage of convenience, and, as James had said, tonight was the most powerful she would ever be. She had to put forward a different story, one that would be believable, even if it was a lie.

“What marriage is that?” she asked with a face of innocence.

The first woman was the one who responded. “Oh, that would be the Pratts and the Kendalls, dear.”

Sophia nodded in fake agreement as she caught the man recognizing her and panicking out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh, and why would that be so outlandish?” she said, keeping up the facade of innocence.

“Well, the two of them hate each other with a passion. Marriages of convenience are rarely happy ones, but theirs shall be the most volatile in Society’s history, I would wager,” the woman replied as if it should have been obvious.

Her other companion, a younger woman, nodded eagerly. “I cannot wait to read about their every public quarrel in the scandal sheets.”

“Miranda…” the man said through his teeth and tried to catch his wife’s attention.

But the older woman would not be stopped, her eyes shining with macabre delight. “It might end up in a spectacular bloodbath, maybe even an annulment. We might even see one of them killing?—”

“Miranda!” the man exclaimed with a cough and managed to stop her before she rambled on.

Sophia was enjoying this, for once grateful to be the kind of wallflower that no one remembered in any detail.

“What?” the woman asked, confused.

“This is… Lady Sophia,” the man wheezed. “Soon to be the Duchess of Heathcote.”

Miranda turned around with a gasp, while the younger woman immediately scurried away, joining a group of ladies who were moving to the other side of the ballroom.

“The one and only, My Lord,” Sophia responded with a curtsy.

“Oh, poor child,” added Miranda.

“Poor? Why would that be, My Lady? Because I heard what you had to say about me?”

Miranda paled. “No… I meant because you are being forced into this union. A fate no young woman wishes for herself.”

“Forced? My Lady, I’m afraid you are mistaken.” Sophia kept a straight smile, her gaze fixed on the older woman. “If you had heard the proper version of the story, you’d know that we are more akin to Romeo and Juliet than Macbeth and Lady Macbeth.”

Miranda raised a dubious eyebrow. “In what aspect?”

“Not only is it not a marriage of convenience, but Thomas and I…” Sophia paused briefly, realizing her meager dinner was about to climb up her throat, but she kept going. “… we love each other. Deeply. We have since we were children, after we met at a garden party and we did not know which family the other belonged to.”

Astonishment widened Miranda’s eyes. “I had not heard of that.”

“We had to keep it secret for years,” Sophia said as casually as she could. “But now, we intend to use this opportunity to bring our families together and put an end to the feud.”

The older couple both looked at her, their mouths agape. Sophia gulped quietly, as she was not used to lying so blatantly, but it looked like they believed her.

“Oh, but this changes everything,” said Miranda urgently. “In that case, I wish you and your husband the best of luck, my dear. Maybe there’s?—”

The Master of Ceremonies’ booming voice ricocheted from the other side of the ballroom, interrupting her. Sophia’s heart sank into her stomach as she heard his crystal-clear announcement.

“His Grace, the Duke of Heathcote.”

Thomas stepped into the room, a magnet of attention, the crowd concentrating on him. His face was the usual mask of stone, rarely betraying his emotions. Even after he had brushed his lips against her neck, stealing a bite and her breath in one fell swoop, there had been no expression on his face as he pulled back. Instead, he had dismissed her rather coldly, leaving her to flee with utter confusion in her head, her skin ablaze with a fever that he had ignited.

Sophia’s eyes widened as panic surged through her veins.

Wretched fool! Why now?! Why did you have to show up now? You are going to ruin everything!

Sophia had to think fast and act faster. She had dug a hole for herself, and the only exit was to dig deeper.

She put on her biggest, fakest smile. “Oh, there is my darling beloved! Excuse me, for knowing we are to be bound together forever tomorrow, I simply can’t stay away from him.”

She dashed off towards him, hiking up her skirts slightly so she could sprint, shouldering a lot of people out of the way in her rush to prevent calamity.