The Wedding Duel (The Dueling Pistols Series) (5 page)

Sophie stood and prepared herself for a lecture. Perhaps Keene had ratted her out.

"Not you, dear, me." Her mother tugged on her arm.

Sophie glanced at Keene and his grim nod confirmed her mother's assumption.

A peculiar summons, to be sure. Had Keene's reputation overcome her father's desire to get along with family? Would Papa request that Keene leave?

"Pour your cousin some tea, and I shall be back directly," instructed Jane.

"How would you like it?" Sophie watched her mother's skirts disappear through the door.

"I do not need any tea, thank you."

Sophie replaced the cup and saucer on the cart. Keene walked across the room and stood in front of the fireplace.

She wanted to say something witty and entertaining, but the only thing she could think of was to ask why he hadn't kissed her earlier. On no account would she ask that. She took a sip of her tea. Her cup rattled loudly as she set it down.

Keene turned so he was in profile to her. His hands were clasped behind his back. Silence stretched out as he studied her. She started to feel like a curiosity, as if she were some two-headed freak of nature that astounded the eyes.

"It has been brought to my attention that you are in want of a husband."

She would have preferred being two-headed rather than being thought of as unmarriageable. Sophie wished more than ever for her knitting basket so she might spread work upon her lap and have an occupation for her nervous fingers and darting eyes. "I expect my parents feel quite desperate about my situation."

Keene frowned.

Sophie dropped her gaze to her lap. She clasped her hands together. "I have assured my mother I shall not refuse any reasonable offer."

"Just Mr. Ponsby?"

"Mr. Ponsby would find me a disagreeable wife, even if he does not believe so." She felt the need to defend herself. "I have only refused him once. The rest of the times I managed to avoid him."

"An ace card up your sleeve?"

Sophie jerked her head up.

Keene moved from the fireplace toward her. The scowl on his face alarmed her.

"So . . . so have my parents appealed to you to find a solution to my predicament?"

"What predicament, Sophie?"

She blinked at the tightness in his voice. "Why, that I am one and twenty and unmarried."

Keene stopped.

"I assure you that you needn't concern yourself. I am not without prospects you see. There was a gentleman from Cornwall . . ." her voice trailed off. She had no more desire to marry Sir Gresham than she wanted to spend another afternoon clinging to the side of the house. She just didn't like the idea that the job of finding her a husband was being foisted on Keene, and he seemed none too happy about it.

"Tell me about this gentleman from Cornwall."

"There is nothing to tell. He was here a fortnight ago, and I liked him well enough. I was just not sure I wanted to become a mother so soon."

Keene looked almost ill.

"Are you all right?" She stood and moved to stand in front of him. "He had three children already, you see. Perhaps you should have some tea, Keene. The traveling has done you in."

He shook his head and glanced at the closed door. "Sophie, I have come to ask you to do me the honor of becoming my wife."

Sophie looked stunned.

He had expected any one of a number of responses to his proposal, but thunderstruck was not one of them. Her blue eyes took on a skeptical glint. "Do not tease me, Keene. It is very unhandsome of you. Richard told me you never intend to marry."

A raw pain struck him. "I never intended for Richard to die before me."

"Oh, Keene, I am so sorry." She put her hand on his shoulder. Heat smoothed down from her touch, the same way it had in the bedroom upstairs.

Oddly enough, for a man that prided himself on staying calm and collected, his thoughts were in such a reel as to make a whirling dervish dizzy.

He hadn't expected half-baked explanations of a man from Cornwall or her oddly prideful way of telling him he needn't concern himself with her plight. Nor was her plight particularly clear to him. There seemed a lot of fuss for a girl who was getting a little long in the tooth, but not so very old as to be cast aside for want of freshness. In fact, she seemed incredibly fresh to a man used to the town polish and world-weariness of young ton matrons ready to don the horns of cuckoldry on their husbands.

Upstairs he had thought her too naive to be subjected to the urges he felt. Naive, but not resistant. He'd wanted her to be aware that she couldn't trust a man to control himself. For once, he wondered if he'd have trouble reigning himself in without a protest from her. It had occurred to him that he should not be trying to scare her with his passion, not if he didn't want her afraid of him when they shared a marriage bed.

The strength of his carnal cravings surprised him. He blamed it on the fact that he'd let his little opera singer go free, and he'd been too long without release.

All the while he was aware the clock was ticking. Farthing had promised him fifteen minutes alone with Sophie and not a second more. It had seemed like enough time when he was under the impression she expected his proposal.

He wanted to press her hand against him, draw her into his arms and kiss her until she hadn't a thought in her head. From what he knew of Sophie, that shouldn't take long. But her wording about her unmarried state brought concerns he hadn't expected. In all the swirl of his thoughts was the concern that Sophie needed to know he would understand a refusal and the equally troubling realization that she had not answered him.

"Sophie, I will understand if you refuse. I will not hold you to any promise your parents have solicited. If you say you cannot like marriage with me, I will explain it is all my fault."

"Are you sincere?"

"Yes, I am serious about this."

"You don't even like me."

True, there were many things he disliked about her. Namely, her lack of modesty and restraint. "I'm told it is not necessary for a successful marriage."

Her eyes grew wider and then dropped. Her face was crestfallen. He cursed himself for being callous with her. She wasn't used to his sarcasm, and she had always been too open. He reached for her chin and tilted her head up. "I daresay I like you well enough in the ways that are important."

He would have to kiss her.

He reached for her waist, curling his hand around her side. Her slender suppleness beneath the layers of material pleased him. With his other hand he traced the delicate edge of her chin. Her lips parted before him. He leaned toward the meeting of their mouths.

"Mama and Papa should never believe a failure to agree on marriage was your fault."

He paused, his gaze shifting from the beckoning petals of her mouth to the bottomless blue of her eyes. Her sweet breath blew across his chin, and he wanted to taste her.

Yet, the content of her words suggested she was thinking of a refusal. On one hand he absolutely wanted her release from his obligations. On the other hand he just wanted to use the remainder of his fifteen minutes to persuade her to become his wife, or at least share his bed.

A small voice of reason crafted his words. "I should convince them my reputation has offended your sensibilities."

She giggled.

The sound touched off a welter of thoughts. Women he was about to kiss didn't usually find it a laughing matter, not that her laughter didn't touch a part of him that was amused. But the very form of her laughter reminded him of her relative youth and inexperience—at least he hoped she was inexperienced. The news of a man from Cornwall concerned him.

All the while he was aware of the brush of skirts against his thighs. He smoothed his hand over the curve of her hip, involuntarily pulling her closer to his hardness.

"My parents know that I have no sensibilities."

He dropped his hand from her chin, trailing his fingertips down the column of her neck. Her pulse leaped under his touch. "I daresay it is time you found some."

Her head dipped.

How would he kiss her if she stared at her feet?

He would be walking a fine line convincing his father that the refusal was solely Sophie's while preserving her reputation and good graces with her parents. That and a small voice in the back of his head pointed out there was really no reason to kiss her if she intended to turn him down. He would seduce a lot of women, but his cousin and unmarried gentlewomen weren't his usual prey.

"Sophie?"

"Yes."

"Do you think you might give me an answer before your parents decide our tête-à-tête has gone on long enough?"

"I just did."

Her yes was the answer to the proposal? He placed both hands along the sides of her face. "Look at me, then."

She looked up. Then her wide blue eyes darted away.

"You will marry me?"

She gave a short jerky nod.

Her uncertainty tugged at him. His own ambivalence was bad enough. Somehow he expected Sophie to be more sure of her choice. She never did anything in half measures. He hadn't realized how much he was counting on her certainty.

Perhaps his duty as a future husband was to reassure her. One aspect of their marriage was likely to be satisfactory to him at least. He wanted to believe that the quickened cadence of her breathing and the rapid leap of her pulse was proof that the physical side of their marriage would be pleasing to her. He also knew these symptoms could be nerves, as well.

Not that he was used to seeing Sophie scared, but earlier when he'd pulled her in from the ledge her expression had the same fearful edge to it. Which had nothing on the pounding of his own heart.

He smoothed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. He knew he should gentle her into his touch, but a quarter hour was such an awkwardly short time. Her eyes fluttered shut and back open. He leaned down to brush his mouth across hers.

The full softness of her lips clinging to his shot fire through his veins.

The door opened and frustration burst through Keene.

"That's quite enough," said Farthing.

Sophie sprang away from him.

Concealing the growing hardness of his response was impossible given the knit pantaloons he wore. Keene found himself wishing for a book as he would have used in Eton days, not that there was anything particularly wrong with a man desiring his future wife. He just wasn't sure he wanted to display the evidence in polite company, especially in the company of such a morally staunch man as Sophie's father.

Did Sophie have any idea that he would like to be hiding behind her skirts at the moment? He couldn't even sit down until the ladies took their seats. Keene turned to the fire, not that he needed the extra heat.

Sensing three pairs of eyes crawling all over him, he held his hands out to the fire. The onyx signet ring on his pinkie reminded him he had not given any thought to a ring for Sophie. The practical thought slid away as he mulled over the kiss that had ended far too soon. He cleared his throat.

"Well," said Jane.

"Sophie has done me the honor of agreeing to be my wife." That they had really gotten no farther than that astounded him. They had not made it to a discussion of when or where the marriage should take place. "But that is all we have settled."

"We shall have the banns posted this Sunday," said Sophie's father. "There is no point in waiting. After the first of February, when the banns have been read three times, we can have the ceremony."

Keene glanced at Sophie to see if she objected to the speed with which they galloped toward the altar. "Will that allow you enough time to assemble your trousseau?"

Sophie blanched. She cast a desperate glance in her mother's direction.

Jane leaned forward and poured tea for her husband. "We shall be able to make accommodations for what Sophie needs. Would you like some tea?"

He needed a brandy. Keene looked between the three of them and felt on the outside of an inside joke without the humor. Farthing gestured toward him. "Would you care to accompany me to the library? We'll pick out a book to read aloud."

That Keene's input on a choice of a book was superfluous quickly became apparent as Farthing beelined to a Hannah More treatise. Instead, Keene was treated to a homily about his disgusting display with Sophie and informed that he should not be allowed to be alone with her before the knot was tied.

Keene felt bound to protest. How was he to fix Sophie's affections if he was not allowed access to her and a modicum of privacy? "I daresay it is not so uncommon to seal an engagement with a kiss."

"That is well and good, but that is quite as far as it needs to go. You have no further need to be alone with Sophie. As her protector I must protest your familiarity with her person."

"If I might speak frankly, with all due respect, with our marriage in less than a month perhaps I should allow her to grow accustomed to my person so she is comfortable with me."