Chapter Five
When not reeling in horror at spending time with him, his betrothed had an animated face that lit up when she was amused; she was rather lovely to look at. Christopher watched as her large brown eyes sparkled with laughter while Freddie waxed lyrical about something inconsequential.
Freddie was his most charming brother with an ease of manner that had people flocking to him, but Christopher didn’t think he was that different from his older brother.
Fine, so he often drew people to him with his penchant for coming up with diverting ways to pass the time and the occasional wild idea rather than the stories he told.
He was not the sort of man who was vain about his appearance, but he wasn’t hideous to look at.
But he didn’t think his looks were all he had going for him.
His reputation for always wanting a good time was almost universally known and he was never without people to talk to at an event. People liked him, and he liked people.
Why then was Sophia blatantly horrified at the idea of spending any time with him?
It made no sense at all. What sort of a man was this Robert whom she considered a better prospect than him?
It was not in his nature to be boastful, or at least he hoped it wasn’t, but even if you stripped him of his looks and his sense of fun, he was still the son of a duke and a brother to one.
Although not as wealthy as his older brothers, he had inherited money and was learning to invest it wisely.
Any wife of his would live a life of luxury.
Not that he was getting married. Not now or ever for that matter.
But still, it wouldn’t hurt Sophia to show a little enthusiasm at spending time with him, or, at the very least, not outright disgust.
He didn’t want a wife and wished that last night had never happened, but from all that he had learned about her, Sophia was thought to be a good woman, and although he could not know for sure, spending a little time with her would not be terrible.
Unless, of course, she kept wrinkling up her nose whenever she looked at him.
He had it on good authority that he didn’t smell, but her reaction would suggest otherwise.
The only time she hadn’t looked repelled by him was when he was showing her the blue box.
Heaven knew what had possessed him to share with her one of his childhood memories.
He’d led her over to the far corner of the Blue Lounge so that they could talk in private, but as he’d been taking her away from their families, his mind had gone terrifyingly blank.
What did one say to the woman to whom you’d accidentally become engaged?
Seeing the toy he’d loved as a child, he’d grabbed at it.
If she’d treated it with contempt, he may have found her repulsion at the thought of marrying him easier to bear.
But the way in which her eyes had taken in every detail, the fascination with which she’d held the tiny figures and admired their features with a quick, flickering smile every so often, had captivated him.
Of course, there would be no wedding, but there could be a friendship if she allowed it.
‘What do you think, Christopher?’ He looked up from where he had been staring at the floor and realised that everyone was turned towards him.
Glancing around at the expectant faces, he saw Sophia’s eyes were wide and unblinking.
When she caught his gaze, she nodded slightly, obviously trying to communicate something to him, but he had no idea what.
‘I am sorry, my mind had wandered. What was the question?’
His sister-in-law’s lips thinned, a sure sign she was displeased with him.
His stomach tightened uncomfortably. He hated disappointing people, especially Emily, who was the person who had started to make Glanmore House feel like a home instead of a group of four men thrust together by circumstances.
‘Mrs Jacobs has suggested a June wedding,’ she told him, no hint of annoyance in her voice, which somehow only made him feel worse. ‘Is that acceptable to you?’
Glancing once more at Sophia, he was none the wiser as to what she wanted him to say. If they weren’t going to go through with the marriage, did it really matter when they set it? Although, it did seem alarmingly close. ‘June is… quite soon.’
Sophia’s eyes grew wider still; whatever he’d said didn’t appear to be the right answer. He tried again. ‘But the weather will be nice.’
A fierce eyeroll suggested he’d gone wrong again. ‘More importantly, what does Miss Jacobs think?’
It was ungentlemanly to smirk, but he couldn’t help it as Sophia quickly rearranged her features, trying but failing to look normal as the attention switched to her. ‘I think I agree with Lord Christopher. It is a little soon when we do not know each other.’
Sophia’s mother let out a tinkling laugh that had probably been considered charming in her younger years. ‘Oh, my dear, you do not need to worry about that. I’d barely said two words to your father before our wedding day and our marriage has been a blessed union.’
‘But…’
Whatever Sophia had been about to say was cut short by her mother.
‘I am afraid I must also say, bluntly, that leaving it too long may give those dreadful gossips something to talk about. And, well, I am sure your sisters will weather it all just fine, but I would not want the risk of it harming their prospects.’
Sophia paled but whether that was in horror at the suggestion or anger at the unfairness of it all, Christopher couldn’t tell.
He pressed his lips together to stop himself from blurting out that it was one of her daughters’ fault they were in this mess in the first place.
Such an outburst would be rude, even if true, and might make life harder for Sophia.
Smoothing non-existent wrinkles out of his pantaloons, he realised that it mattered to him if she were upset, which was odd, considering before last night, he hadn’t known her at all.
‘If we settle on a date in mid-June, that will give us eight weeks.’ Christopher was surprised his voice was coming out calm and rational, as if it were an everyday occurrence to discuss something so monumental.
Perhaps because he knew it would not happen.
Sophia wasn’t looking at him any more, intently studying her fingers, which were resting on her lap – he hoped the message behind his statement was clear to her; they had plenty of time to call it off.
‘It is settled then,’ said Mrs Jacobs. ‘June it is.’ Sophia’s fingers flexed, the only sign that she had heard her mother, but she said nothing. ‘We must not trespass on your hospitality any longer.’
Everyone moved to stand, and panic hit Christopher hard in the stomach. For all their talking, they did not have a plan; that she could leave this room without them formulating one was a very real possibility. ‘If I may have a word with my betrothed before you leave, I should be grateful,’ he said.
He could not let her leave until they had some sort of decision.
It would not be easy to break this betrothal, the scandal would have huge consequences, but he did not want it to go on for a long time.
In early July, he had plans to travel to the country and stay with William, a good friend of his who had recently inherited a rather large estate and had the wealth to throw an excellent party with no one around to prevent it being an absolute riot.
This debacle of an engagement needed to be done and dusted by then.
He half-expected there to be a protest about the two of them being left alone together.
But it turned out that the strict rules did not seem to apply now that there was a wedding in the near future.
Freddie and Emily led Mrs Jacobs away; both Christopher and Sophia watched them leave, listening until their voices were only a murmur.
As the sounds moved away, he could see Sophia’s shoulders tighten until the point they looked ready to snap.
‘I cannot believe you agreed to a date,’ Sophia burst out, her eyes wild.
‘Once she books that church, which she will today or tomorrow because getting one of her daughters married off this Season will be a triumph, getting out of it will be even harder.’ Her hands covered her face and she groaned.
‘I will never be able to show my face at church again after this.’
‘You can find some flaw in my character as a reason to call it off. Nobody will question you because, as you have pointed out, I do not have the best reputation. As for the church, it can be cancelled easily enough. Happily, I have enough money to offer a donation in order to make up for any inconvenience caused.’ His words didn’t appear to cut through her misery, which was probably fair.
He was making light of something that was, in fact, an enormous problem.
‘Shall we arrange a date to discuss how we are going to behave over the next few weeks in more detail?’
Seeming to collect herself, she pressed her fingertips together. ‘Very well, that is a good idea. What should you like to do?’
‘Um…’ He racked his brains trying to think of a suitable excursion for a young lady. ‘What is it that you normally do?’
‘I like to visit exhibitions and read about them when I can. I dabble with watercolours, write letters, talk with my sisters, play whist with them, if we can agree not to fall out beforehand, eat ices. You know, that sort of thing.’ A tinge of pink crossed her cheeks.
‘It probably sounds terribly dull to you.’
He found he did not like the despondency in her voice, as if she believed he thought her life boring. ‘Do you know, I have never had an ice.’
The misery that had been evident in her expression disappeared in an instant to be replaced with wide-eyed shock. ‘How is that possible? You must be in your twenties. There must have been thousands of times when you could have had one.’
‘I am two and twenty and there has never been an opportunity.’ Which, now that he said it, sounded faintly ridiculous.
He could easily ask for one to be added to the duke’s menu or go to a tea shop which served them by the hundreds.
‘Perhaps we could go to Gunter’s for our first excursion together. ’
She clapped her hands together. ‘I should like that. I love ices and I would like to see you try your first one.’ Whether she knew it or not, she had an impish smile that changed her face completely.
Before he had time to dwell on how much it suited her, he said, ‘Very well, I shall call for you on Thursday afternoon, if that suits.’
‘It does, thank you.’
Despite warning himself against indulging in looking at her for too long, he couldn’t help but gaze down at her.
A strange pang swelled around his heart as she smiled up at him through long lashes.
Just as her smile changed the way she looked, so too did the look in her eyes, which were remarkably beautiful and extraordinarily expressive.
A weaker man could lose himself in their depths.
Turning away from her abruptly, he indicated that she should precede him out of the lounge, which turned out to be a mistake.
Following her, he noted how some of her curls had escaped from her bonnet and were falling down the back of her long neck.
His fingers ached with the urge to brush them off her skin.
Damnation. He did not want to start noticing attractive things about this woman.
She was as off-limits as any young, unmarried woman; just because they were betrothed did not mean he could kiss her.
If he followed through on one, or on any, of the relatively innocent things his mind was suggesting, there would be no way out of this betrothal.
As he led her towards the foyer, he remarked on small, inconsequential things, such as the weather, reminding himself to be careful.
Developing a tendre for his pretend betrothed would spell disaster for him.
Neither of them had any intention of marrying one another and her heart lay with a man who was, if she were to be believed, nothing like him.
A broken heart was something he had promised himself he would never suffer from, and it was not an oath he wanted to break.