Chapter 8
Soren
“What happened with Pru,” Rafe asked the moment Soren stepped back into the ballroom.
“Nothing.” He waved off his friend in an attempt to dismiss him. After what had just taken place, he was ready to leave. There was no sanctuary in the ballroom now. But then a thought occurred to him, “Did anyone else mention that something was amiss?”
“Not that I heard or can see. I only picked up on it because I was keeping an eye out for both of you.”
“Thank God for small miracles.”
“Soren, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Rafe turned to scan the ballroom’s exits. “We can find a place to discuss this before—”
“I couldn’t help detecting Lynette following you back inside,” one of the dandies from earlier cajoled. Soren shot him a look to shut him up. And then he was surrounded by his flock of idiots again. And everything was the same as it had been before he’d left to chase after Pru.
No one had noticed Prudence entering before him. She was completely unremarkable to the men huddled around him. And for that he was relieved, if only to protect her identity and maintain her pristine reputation.
“I need a drink,” he muttered to Rafe.
“Shall we find Ash?”
“Lead the way.”
Unapologetically, Soren detached himself from his herd and headed off in search of a drink. In short order, the two men found Ash in one of the cardrooms. Alone.
“Playing cards alone again, are you?” Soren sank into one of the adjacent chairs.
“They all just left.” Ash picked up a deck of cards and shuffled. Then he held the deck up to his friends inviting them to play. A swift nod from each led him to deal a game of piquet for the two newcomers.
“Of course they did. You haven’t been sitting here all night by yourself avoiding someone.”
Ash scoffed. “I wouldn’t go to such great lengths just to avoid Verity.”
“Sure you wouldn’t. Haven’t been doing it for the past decade—”
“Eight years,” Ash corrected.
“Eight years of avoiding someone seems a bit excessive, wouldn’t you agree Rafe?”
Rafe nodded while eyeing his cards.
“I don’t need to avoid her. She does a good enough job on her own. Haven’t seen the chit since her debut.”
“Impressive,” Soren clicked his tongue, “that you know the date and time of your last sighting.”
“You going to blather on about some chit all night or play cards?” Ash challenged, which only caused Soren to laugh. This was what he needed. To forget about Pru.
“Have you even stepped foot into the ballroom?” Rafe asked Ash.
“Don’t need to.”
“Why did you come tonight?” Soren couldn’t fault his friend for the sincere question.
“Sometimes you do things for a friend.”
“You mean Tempy-Temperance?”
Ash cast an odd look at Rafe before answering. “Yes.”
“Isn’t it a coincidence that Soren’s smitten with her twin, then?”
In an unintentional soft slam, Ash dropped his hands to the table while Rafe continued. “You didn’t notice Soren’s transformation then, since you weren’t in the ballroom, did you?”
Ash’s jaw tensed. “We’ve already established that.” He jutted his chin out to Soren. “What the blazes is he talking about?”
“Despite the fact that he’s an academic, he’s an idiot.” Soren leaned back in his chair, cards still splayed out in his hand. He tossed three down from his hand and picked up three more from the talon of eight cards facedown in the middle of the table.
“So you’re going to deny chasing after Prudence Hawthorne this evening?” Still eyeing his cards, Rafe tossed two and picked up two from the talon.
“I’m not denying anything.”
The two men took turns making their declarations before starting to play the round of tricks.
“So you’re also not denying how you left the ballroom with your heart on your sleeve?”
Flustered, Soren tossed his queen of clubs. Rafe beat it with an ace.
“And you’re also not denying that after a significant amount of time you returned to the ballroom like a mooncalf that had been trampled?”
“What is this, an inquisition?” Soren threw down his king of spades only for Rafe to beat it with another ace. “Forget about her. I know I have.”
“Just a question, isn’t it?”
“You and your damn questions. We’ve got ten tricks left. Just play the game.”
“You do know she’s your ticket in though, don’t you?”
“You got questions now too, Ash?”
A weaker, more flighty man might have put his hands up on mock defense. Ash merely leaned back in his chair eyeing his friend suspiciously. “Have to say I’ve never seen you like this, Soren. Must be some truth in what Rafe’s getting at.”
Not about to admit anything, Soren threw his next card on the table, a ten, waiting for Rafe to beat it again. The seven fell short, and Soren swiped the trick to his side of the table.
Small wins.
“Don’t you want to know what Ash is talking about? You do still want Bart’s stud, don’t you?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” But even as he asked it, the realization clicked into place.
“Pru is his sister-in-law.” Bart. A reckless earl with extreme reclusive tendencies at times.
He was impossible to get a read on because when he wasn’t hermitting he was traipsing across England like a profligate.
But he had some good horses. And if there was one thing—besides women—that Soren had a passion for, it was horses.
“Exactly,” Ash said too smugly. “Look like you need this chit, whether you like it or not.”
And that was the truth of the matter really. He didn’t know whether he liked that or not.