Page 17 of Love Unraveled
“I wish only to be provided the opportunity to court you.” He watched her from under his eyelashes, and sensual memories flowed through her mind and coursed through her veins.
“No,” she said. “It is impossible.”
“You will make it possible.”
“No, I cannot.” Sophia could not allow Gaston another opportunity to hurt her. Nor could she risk him undoing the life she had created in England. “I am taken.” She’d quickly decided the duke would make the perfect excuse.
“Taken?” Gaston tilted his head sideways, and she was unable to look away. “I think not.”
“I am pledged to another.” He need not know she had not committed.
“Why do I not know this?”
“It is not yet public.”
Doubt flittered across his face, quickly replaced by a grin far too big for the moment. “You never were good at lying to me.”
“It is no lie.” The orchestra was on its final flourish, and she could soon escape his arms. “The Duke of Salinger and I have an understanding.”
“You will tell him you were too hasty with your decision. That you are not ready to settle for anyone at the moment.”
“I will do no such thing.” The last strands of music floated across the air, and she turned from him, but he grabbed her hand and tugged her close.
“You will,Sophie.” He said her name louder and with a heavy French accent.
“Shh,” she said, trying to pull away.
“You will, or I will share stories of our childhood far and wide.”
Sophia shrugged as disinterestedly as she could at the idea he could bring her world crashing down around her, then turned and walked away, leaving him on the dance floor. She did not care she was being watched. It would prove to him how little she cared about his threat.
The duke had still not returned with her lemonade. Not exactly solicitous of him, but he’d never been one to dote on her. He was probably waylaid and talking horses with someone. They were a great preoccupation of his. She dropped elegantly onto a chair, adjusting her gown and tilting her legs at the right angle to show her ankles to advantage. She held her head high, facing the opposite direction to where she’d left Gaston.
Catherine and Elizabeth walked toward her, smiling. They were total opposites. Catherine was tall with hair the color of a dark claret and eyes the color of moss. Elizabeth was shorter with hair so fair it was almost white, and she had the bluest of eyes. Sophia always considered their combined beauty a reflection of earth and sky. Neither of them ever noticed the men and women who eyed them as they walked by. Those two had eyes only for their husbands.
They took chairs on either side of Sophia, leaned in at the same time, and in perfect synchronization, asked, “Who was the man you were dancing with?”
Sophia looked at her feet, unwilling to look them in the eyes and lie. “He was nobody.”
“I’ll try not to be insulted.”
Sophia whipped her head up. Gaston was smiling charmingly at her friends, but when he looked at her, his eyes flashed a warning.
“Gaston Durand,” he said, not waiting for an offer of introduction.
There was a moment of silence. Sophia knew her friends were not insulted by his boldness but were, instead, waiting for her to introduce them. When she didn’t, Catherine jumped into the void and introduced both herself and Elizabeth.
“We are old friends,” Catherine said, clearly trying to think of something more to say.
“Old friends are the best kind of friends,” Gaston said. “In fact, the countess and I—”
“Met inVenezia,” Sophia interjected. “Briefly,” she added.
“Yes, briefly. It is my hope she will grant me more of her company this time,” he said to Catherine before looking at Sophia. “I would so enjoy hearing more about your life here in England.” His eyes dared her to rebuff him now.
“I will consider the possibility.” She had absolutely no intention of doing so.
“We are at the theater Tuesday,” Catherine said, her face radiant. “Will you be attending?”
