Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

T homas noticed the commotion and realized its source. It was Sophia, slashing through the crowd towards him. He raised a hand to interrupt the man who was talking to him.

What on God’s earth is she doing here?

In the back of his mind, he had the strangest thought, compelled to turn his gaze away from her. It was a common enough superstition that it was bad luck to see the bride the night before the wedding, and they did not need to invite any more into their imminent marriage.

Sophia came up to him and curtsied with a wide smile, slightly out of breath.

“Your Grace! My love! You didn’t tell me you were joining me tonight. We could have come together,” she said.

Thomas almost wanted to turn around and make sure she was talking to him, but he stayed expressionless, resisting the urge to whisper in her ear that her last words would have to wait until their wedding night. He noticed that there was no sign of his bite. Perhaps she needed a new mark so she would not stray the night before they were wed.

“Are you quite well?” he asked, aware that Lord Archer—the man standing at his side—was staring at them in confusion.

Her smile bordered on maniacal. “Just breathless in your presence, my love.”

He took a moment to analyze the situation. She was looking at him with purposeful intensity, as if she was trying to say something with her eyes, wide and expressive as they were.

He had heard the gossipmongers from the moment he entered the room. He had even heard some lords betting on how long their marriage would last.

Realization dawned on him.

She is more cunning than she looks…

He weighed the situation in his head and considered his options. He could ridicule her. Publicly exclaim that this woman is living a delusion, and this is merely a marriage of convenience. But how would that reflect on him? A man admitting he was willingly putting himself into a position of misery, even if it was for the sake of duty…

“Yes… Lord Archer, this is the lady that shall make me the happiest man in Christendom on the morrow. Perhaps we can resume our conversation another day? I should like to spend some time with my… beloved.” He felt his throat constricting as he said the words, and he gulped down the unease.

At least for now, he needed to keep up this facade.

“Of course, Your Grace. Quite understandable. If I had the choice between discussing dull business and enjoying the night with a beautiful lady, I would make the same one.”

Lord Archer took a good look at Sophia and blinked in bewilderment for a seemingly endless second. One could almost feel the cogs turning in his head as he put two and two together, debating whether he wanted to speak or not.

“Lord Archer?” Thomas prompted.

“Yes, yes. Good evening,” Lord Archer replied and walked off slowly like he still had not decided if he might turn back to voice his doubts.

Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas noticed him whispering to the next group of nobles he approached and drawing attention to them.

Let them gossip. It hardly matters now.

Thomas moved closer to Sophia until there was barely half a hand’s width between them. All at once, he was transported back to the steps of his porch, hearing himself ask, “But are you ready to become my wife, Lady Sophia?”

His stomach clenched as she peered up at him with glassy eyes, as if she too were remembering the moment. Her neck arched in order to take in his towering height, and he bit his lip to stop himself from biting that sweet flesh again, leaving a new mark. To make his situation all the more unbearable, she reached up to touch the spot he had nipped, her lips parting slightly.

“You should not be so close,” she murmured, though she made no move to step away.

“And you should not be here,” he replied coolly. “It is bad luck, though I suspect it is designed to prevent a man and a woman from not waiting until the wedding night, before a lady’s security is assured.”

Sophia’s eyes went wide, her breath catching in a most titillating gasp. “What an uncouth thing to say. At least you do not have to concern yourself with that .” She swallowed loudly. “Besides, I suspect that only counts when the couple are in love.”

He tilted his head to the side. “I thought we were?”

Watching her struggle to suppress a scowl, vainly attempting to keep a fake smile plastered on her face, was a sight he would not soon forget. Yes, he had chosen to play along, but if she thought he would drop all pretense because no one else was near, then she was sorely mistaken.

This might be the only enjoyment I’ll have for some time; I may as well make the most of it.

Though his mind drifted back to her earlier remark, making him wonder what would their wedding night look like. Perhaps they would never have one.

“I confess, your declaration was surprising,” he added slyly. “You must have been harboring this affection for some time.”

“ Excuse me? ” Sophia rasped as she wrinkled her freckled nose at him. “Is that what you think that was? A… confession of affection?”

“Well, why else would someone go against the wishes of their father and uncle, and go to a gentleman’s home after midnight, if not for deep, unrequited, incurable love? Truly, I had no idea.”

It took every shred of discipline he possessed not to smirk and reveal his game.

She huffed and puffed, her cheeks a charming shade of lobster red. “You must be really dimwitted, Your Grace, or you are pretending to be.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“I went to your home because you essentially threatened me, and because you are you —there is murderous rage in your blood,” she muttered, still trying to force that ridiculous smile on her plump lips.

He feigned quiet outrage. “Threatened you? What an accusation.”

“You said you were sorry for the losses we would both face. You were going to challenge my father to duel,” she shot back. “My uncle was right about your father, and he was right about you.”

Thomas nodded sarcastically to her comments. “You can always trust a Kendall to know everything about everyone, is that it? You have the world figured out, and the rest of us are apes stumbling around in the dark.”

Sophia chuckled darkly at his remark. “Oh, you have that right. Apes, all right,” she affirmed, clearly hinting at his height. “In any case, know that I only did it to save my family. I want nothing to do with you—why would I? You are the most arrogant and pompous man on this side of the country, continent, planet—you name it. I only care for the safety of my family and their well-being. If marrying you means they remain safe, then so be it.”

“Would you look at that!” He took hold of her hand and pressed a kiss to her silky glove, wishing it was her bare skin once more. “That makes two of us, then. Turns out we can find common ground between us, and I hear that is all a couple needs to get along.”

Sophia seemed genuinely surprised by his response and looked at him with curious eyes. But hers was not the only gaze turned upon him. He was suddenly aware of dozens of eyes and ears fixed directly on the two of them, begging for an inkling of gossip to come out of their mouths. He had appearances to keep and had come too close to destroying them.

“Lady Sophia, let us dance,” he commanded, weaving her arm through his, though she struggled slightly against him.

“But of course. Who else would I dance with besides my beloved husband-to-be, whom I love oh-so-much,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, the fake smile still firmly fixed on her face.

Putting on what he hoped was a less reluctant expression, Thomas escorted her to the dance floor. Her hand felt tiny and elegant on his forearm, though he did not doubt that her fingernails could turn into claws if she wanted.

How can a woman with such a boorish and barbaric attitude have such delicate hands? He frowned. Is she… is she trembling?

He dipped his head to her ear, whispering, “Why are you trembling?”

“I am not,” she protested, keeping her smile up.

You are not the liar you think you are.

“I must be mistaken,” he said generously. “Perhaps you always shake like this. Or do you only shake when you are in my company? I think you trembled on my doorstep too.”

She dropped her chin to her chest, hissing, “I shall smack you, Your Grace. Don’t think I won’t. I shall make it look playful, but it will hurt.”

“Is that the excuse you mean to use when you step on my toes too?” he challenged, finding a clear spot on the dance floor as the orchestra came to the end of the previous dance.

She took her position opposite him, farther away than he would have liked. “I beg your pardon?”

He did not reply until the music began, a lively tune that commanded a livelier dance. The gentlemen performed the opening steps, leaping gracefully from foot to foot before the ladies answered with the same movement.

His suspicions were confirmed immediately.

She has all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

They came together, palm pressed to palm, turning clockwise thrice, then thrice back the other way. The perfect opportunity for intimate conversation.

“I expect my wife to be an elegant example of how to dance,” he said, clicking his tongue. “You shall have to have lessons.”

She gaped at him. “Do you ever open your mouth to do anything besides complain? It’s just a dance; it does not matter. A woman—a wife—could be a thousand things. Her worth should not be based on how well she repeats steps that she has seen many times.”

“Seen?” He grimaced. “So, you can’t dance. Have you ever danced?”

Sophia immediately stepped on his foot in a manner that should have felt vindictive, but judging by the instant flushing of her cheeks, turning a brighter red than before, and the quiet yelp of dismay that slipped past her lips, it appeared to be a timely accident.

“Sorry…”

She was flustered, a sheen of perspiration on her brow, making him think of other exertions that tradition dictated should take place the following night.

Enough , he scolded himself. What was he, a boy with no restraint? He did not even like the woman, with her coarse tongue, atrocious coordination, deceitful mouth, and awful family. He would do well to remember William’s bandaged torso, and all the fatalities before, whenever a sultry thought popped into his head. That would dampen it.

“The other way around,” he said curtly. “Just… follow my lead and move one foot at a time to the rhythm. Do not overthink it.”

They danced. Awkwardly, slowly, and off rhythm, but they danced.

Thomas did his best to ignore the snickering around the dance floor. He was usually lauded for his graceful dancing and had no shortage of partners who danced just as well, so it was a new feeling to him—ridicule. Then again, if he was to marry Sophia tomorrow, he supposed it was a feeling he should acquaint himself with.

“Now, will you explain to me what you are doing?” he asked her abruptly as they promenaded, her arms crossed with his all wrong.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” Sophia winced. “Are you trying to break my wrist?”

He readjusted his hands, though it was still not right. “Not the dancing. Your little fairytale. Have you been going around all night proclaiming your love for me?”

“No! No… just for the past few minutes.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Do we or do we not want this marriage to be believable?”

As they stopped so he could spin her, her feet tangled together, prompting him to lunge to catch her before she fell to the floor.

He pulled her to him, closer than he ought, feeling her fingernails dig into his chest as she clutched at his lapels to keep her balance.

He held her startled gaze. “No, we only need it to be civil. We don’t need to convince anyone—we don’t owe that to anyone.”

He slowly loosened his grip so they could turn in another dizzying circle in time with everyone else, but her hands held onto his lapels for a moment longer.

“They think our marriage will be over by the end of the year,” she said thickly.

“That’s their problem, not mine.” He seized her hands and prized them off him, catching up to the rest of the dancers with another clumsy promenade.

“Oh my stars, you are even worse than I thought.”

“Likewise.”

Sophia patted his chest as if she was dusting him off.

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused. Did she think it was one of the steps?

“Oh, don’t mind me—just checking if the Grand Duke of Heathcote has a heart . Clearly, he doesn’t, as he won’t even bother to fake being happy in his marriage.”

“Because I see no sense in it,” he replied firmly. “The people here know me. They know who I am and what my values are. They would sooner believe I wanted to elope to Gretna Green than that I’d fallen in love with you .”

“Ah yes, the great Duke, staring down at the rest of us mortals from his lofty heights. No one can ever be enough for him.”

Thomas realized that, somehow, they had picked up their pace and were dancing better than before, even attracting a bit of attention from the crowd.

Perhaps anger was the medicine to fix Sophia’s ungainly dancing. If only it could be the remedy for a civil marriage, too, for they both had it in abundance.

“I am certain it must have been a terrible hardship to be the only daughter of a wealthy marquess, able to do as you please, with every whim catered to,” he chided sarcastically. “You fooled me into thinking you were wiser than the rest of your ilk. I should have known better—you are just as juvenile.”

Sophia gasped but restrained herself quickly and put on that fake, infuriating smile again.

“You have no idea what you are talking about,” she said with saccharine sweetness.

“ You have no idea what you are talking about, wife, ” he said, knowing it would annoy her, possibly into performing their next dance like an expert.

“Don’t call me that ever again,” she snapped, her face beet red.

“Or else what?”

“Or else—” Sophia’s expression turned into a distinct scowl as she raised her leg, evidently intending to step on his foot with all of her weight.

As vengeful as her brothers, her father, her uncle.

However, fate seemed to have chosen a side that night, and it was not hers.