Page 28 of Love Unraveled
“No, I did not attend it,” Lord Bennet said. “Why would I? Far too plebeian. Quite distasteful.”
Sophia’s blood boiled at his extreme arrogance. Her mind whispered,Patience, even though hers was already at a minimum, and her smile felt too tight for her face. “I believe it is marvelous the show is accessible to a large swath of people. We are all capable of appreciating talent and beauty, no?”
“I would sincerely doubt that, Countess Tessaro. Besides, I far prefer admiring all beauty in private.”
His lecherous scan did nothing to temper Sophia’s ire. “In the dark, I would imagine, since no beauty would willingly—”
“Have you even attended the exhibition?” the duke asked Sophia, cutting her off with a stiff smile and a warning in his eyes.
“As a matter of fact, I was there today, and I thoroughly enjoyed the art and the throngs of people. It was lively. Fun. Not remotely dull like—”
“We need a bit of a stretch after such a stupendous meal,” the duke said, narrowing his eyes at Sophia. “My apologies, Lord Bennet. Lady Bennet.” The duke offered his hand. “Countess, a short stroll?”
Sophia was acutely aware it was a demand, not a question, but she had no desire to escalate this interlude any further. It was not worth it. So she allowed him the moment of control.
“You are behaving ridiculously.” The duke’s harsh whisper in her ear irritated her further as he pulled her through the drawing room, into the hall. Sophia wanted to tug free of his grip, but eyes were upon them, and she did not wish to make a scene. Or did she? She hesitated, and he continued forward as though he was tugging along a reluctant child. He stopped and glared at her but quickly caught himself and softened his expression.
“Your rudeness is surprising, my dear. May I ask what has gotten into you?” he asked, his voice almost pleasant but his eyes hard as steel.
Irked by his sense of ownership, she found her answer. She didn’t care about a scene. She yanked her arm and spun on him.
“You may ask whatever you want. You are a free man.” She forced another tight smile for the gapers and gossips. “AndIam a free woman.”
The Duke of Salinger feigned a smile too. “One too free with her words this evening,” he said through gritted teeth. “Lord Bennet is not without some influence—”
“And what need have I of influence? I am not the one who spends too much time, and too much money, on horses.”
They had never talked openly about his money issues, and his surprise was evident. Well, good. She’d no desire to finance his future losses, so he might as well accept that now.
“How dare you,” he said, his smile re-pasted as he glanced around as though interested in the people now flowing around them to the ballroom.
“No, how dareyou!” Sophia said, not making any attempt to temper her volume or lower her voice. “I am not your chattel to direct as you see fit. I will say and do whatever I wish.” She turned abruptly and banged into a hard chest. “Gaston!”
Gaston did not look surprised or pleased. In fact, he looked angry as he glanced at Sophia and over her shoulder, presumably at the duke.
“Shall I take you home?” he asked quietly.
“No,” she said, thrusting her chin high. “You may take me into the ballroom.” She scooped his elbow and directed him forward, without a look at the duke.
Sophia knew she had overreacted. She’d been overreacting to everything since Gaston had walked back into her life. Still, it might be for the best. Now she did not need to lie to the duke. She was genuinely angry with him and his overbearing assumptions. With so many people witnessing their argument, their time apart would be attributed to their disagreement tonight. As for repairing the damage a month from now, she would worry about it come the time. If at all. She was no longer convinced she could change the duke, and she would not settle for a domineering bore.
She turned to Gaston. “I would like to dance.”
His smile was reflected in his eyes, and her heart skipped a little. Sophia would let the past rest as it should and the future stay where it must—out of reach. For now, she would live in the only moment guaranteed. And she would, for tonight, enjoy being in the arms of the man she’d once loved.
Chapter Nineteen
You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.
—Jane Austen,Persuasion
After leaving Sophie’stown house, Gaston had gone directly to Liverpool. The prime minister had been in his chambers and not entirely comfortable with Gaston’s sudden appearance, but he did see the wisdom of securing Gaston a ticket to the Bennets’ private ball. Apparently, Lord Sidmouth had dropped by earlier and informed Liverpool they were making no headway in discovering who was leaking important operations information. More than ever, Liverpool was convinced the informant was among the peerage.
Gaston had not told Liverpool his true goal was frustrating Sophie’s circumvention of spending the evening with him. It was irrelevant. He was entirely capable of listening in on conversations while undoing Sophie’s evening. What he hadn’t expected was this reversal in her, the invitation to dance, and his own need to see the anger in her eyes extinguished. It was one thing when he put it there, a shared fire, but to know someone else had genuinely upset her was distressing.
They stood side by side and hand in hand and looked at each other. Sophie did not avoid his gaze. In fact, she seemed determined to hold it.
“He has upset you,” Gaston said loudly enough for her ears only. Saying it angered him as much as seeing the man tower over Sophie had. He’d not heard their exchange, but the duke’s face had made it clear it had been a heated one.
