‘I’ll grant you that the possibility had crossed my mind. But if that was the case then Purvis would have publicly denounced Andrew for his cowardice.’
‘He didn’t live long enough to give Purvis the opportunity.’ Ross shrugged, more troubled by the entire business than he was willing to admit, even to his oldest friend. ‘Inconsiderate of him.’
‘She’s creating quite a stir and fuelling the collective fires of the gossipmongers,’ Mark said, watching Sophia greet their hostess and walk elegantly into the room beside her uncle and aunt. ‘Must take some courage, given what’s being said about her sister.’
‘She is not to blame for that, as far as I am aware.’
Mark chuckled. ‘Seems the females in that family have a way with them. Even you, with your jaundiced eye, are impressed.’
‘I may harbour suspicions about their activities but that doesn’t prevent me from appreciating beauty when I see it.’
‘Shall you approach her?’
Ross continued to watch as Sophia paused to speak with a woman he didn’t recognise. Whatever she said to her caused her to glance in Ross’s direction, and their gazes held for a protracted moment.
‘I rather think I shall wait for her to approach me,’ he replied indolently.
‘She can’t. You haven’t been introduced.’
‘But you know her and can do the honours.’
Mark sighed and inclined his head. ‘Happy to oblige.’
When Sophia realised that every eye seemed to be focused upon her as she entered Lady McBride’s ballroom, the desire to turn tail and run away almost overwhelmed her. Nerves temporarily overcame her stark determination to prove a point, and she wondered what in God’s name had made her insist upon attending. Her aunt and uncle had fought vigorously against the decision, but Sophia knew that hiding away would only increase speculation. Her sister’s name was constantly in the gossip sheets and the rest of the family were tainted by association. It was most unfair.
But it was the way society worked.
Besides, she thought, straightening her shoulders and plastering an enigmatic smile onto her face, she herself had done nothing to be ashamed of, and her long-suffering aunt and uncle, who had been so very kind to her and Maria, did not deserve the damage caused to the family name by Maria’s reckless behaviour. Sophia was determined to prove that they had one niece whose conduct would give them no cause for concern.
‘You came!’ Sophia took pleasure from Fanny Beaumount’s enthusiastic welcome. All the gentlemen she had passed had smiled as they welcomed her, but the ladies had shied away, clustering together and turning their backs, as though Maria’s behaviour might be contagious. If it wasn’t so demeaning, Sophia would find their reaction amusing. ‘I thought you might have had second thoughts.’
‘And third and fourth,’ Sophia replied with a wry smile, ‘yet here you find me. I feel rather like a display piece in a museum, what with everyone staring at me. Inanimate works of art enjoy my sympathy since I now know how it feels to be appraised, criticised and found wanting.’
‘You are not an inanimate object!’ Fanny protested.
‘Perhaps not, but I still can’t answer back.’ She gestured at the throng swirling around them. ‘They are none of them sufficiently bad-mannered to raise the subject that occupies their thoughts, but if I were to allude to it, if only in an attempt to defend Maria, it would become open season.’
Fanny twitched her nose. ‘Your sister doesn’t deserve to have you fighting her corner, and would be appalled if she knew you were attempting to do so. She enjoyed shocking society, but you have nothing to apologise for.’
‘Even so, I appear to be attracting a lot of unwanted attention.’
‘Has it occurred to you that the gentlemen are all looking at you because they simply can’t help themselves? Not for any other reason. And the ladies are simply jealous because you eclipse them all. You are far too beautiful, which is most unfair. No one will look at me when we stand side by side.’
Sophia smiled and squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘I am so very glad to have such a loyal friend, Fanny. You are very good for my self-esteem, even if your views are biased.’
‘That gown is a sensation.’ Fanny grinned good-naturedly. ‘If I didn’t like you quite so much, I would be obliged to hate you on principle.’
Sophia laughed. ‘Is the new duke here?’ she asked. ‘I have heard his name mentioned in muted tones several times since I walked into the room.’
‘He’s over there, partially concealed by that pillar.’ Sophia followed the direction of Fanny’s gaze. ‘I do believe he is hiding. I’ve been watching him and finding it all jolly amusing. He scowls at everyone in that dark, brooding manner of his and even the most determined of matrons is deterred from approaching him. He’s been loitering there for a full half-hour, only talking to Mark Ritcher, and hasn’t once danced. Only imagine.’
‘I barely can,’ Sophia replied, feeling her insides lurch when she glanced the duke’s way. He fixed the brooding expression that so offended Fanny upon her as their gazes clashed, causing Sophia’s cheeks to warm. She hadn’t set eyes upon him before but even from a distance, she could tell that he was impossibly handsome and self-assured. She rolled her eyes. Of course he was!
An abundance of dark curls cascaded across his forehead and his rugged features were fixed in an expression that had no place in a ballroom; an insult to his hostess’s hospitality which he would get away with simply because he was a highly eligible duke.
‘Really,’ Sophia said, refusing to admit that she was impressed by what she saw. ‘If he insists upon attending then he ought to make more of an effort to be agreeable. We all have social obligations. Anyway, I wonder why he came at all if he doesn’t intend to dance.’
They had moved with the crowd and Sophia was disconcerted when she found that the surge of bodies had carried them closer to the duke’s position. It was almost as if the throng had cleared that particular path, anxious to see sparks fly. Well, Sophia thought, her combative nature coming to the fore, if the duke continued to glower with such incivility then they might well get their wish.
‘Miss Kennard, Miss Beaumount. What a pleasure.’ Mark Ritcher’s voice recalled Sophia’s wandering attention and she abruptly stopped walking seconds before she collided with the duke’s broad chest. ‘Allow me to make my friend, Ross Ellwood, the Duke of Alton, known to you.’
Chapter Two
Ross bowed to the ladies, curious to observe Sophia Kennard at closer quarters. Conscious of half the inhabitants of the ballroom collectively holding their breath as they watched the encounter with varying degrees of fascination, Ross admired the girl’s courage. She must have heard the whispers, the gleeful asides, but gave the impression of being impervious to the stir she had created as she deliberately engineered this confrontation.
‘Ladies,’ Ross replied in response to Mark’s introduction, keeping his expression impassive.
‘Miss Beaumount,’ Mark said into the ensuing silence, which Miss Kennard made no attempt to break as she insolently met Ross’s gaze and defiantly held it, ‘a quadrille is about to form up. Will you do me the honour?’
Miss Beaumount glanced at her friend, then back at Mark, clearly conflicted about leaving Miss Kennard alone with Ross. But good manners won the day and she accepted Mark’s proffered hand.
‘Pray excuse us,’ she said, sending Miss Kennard an apologetic look.
Left alone with the enticing Miss Kennard, with her abundance of russet curls and large, most unusual silver eyes shooting daggers of disapproval in his direction, it soon became clear that she considered herself the aggrieved party. Her attitude helped to overcome Ross’s momentary fixation and reminded him of all the reasons why she was not to be trusted. Even so, he found her barely concealed aggression stimulating.
Stimulation was a welcome challenge. It gave him a purpose that had been missing from his life since his return to England. Ross waited for her to speak,
to say something to try and justify her sister’s unjustifiable behaviour. Women were generally uncomfortable with silences, but this one proved an exception to that particular rule and made no effort to engage him in conversation. Instead, she sent him an appraising glance and it was impossible for Ross to know whether she approved of what she saw. Not that it ought to matter what she thought of him, yet annoyingly he discovered that it did. He reminded himself that she hadn’t behaved inappropriately as far as he was aware, and that her reputation would be suffering as a result of her sister’s indiscretions.
Since he had kept her standing in front of him for at least a minute and had made no effort to converse with her, he reluctantly conceded that gentlemanly behaviour required some small effort on his part.
‘You are not what I expected,’ he said eventually, realising that it sounded like a criticism as soon as the words had left his mouth.
‘You have the advantage of me, sir,’ she replied disdainfully. ‘You have clearly anticipated making my acquaintance, whereas I have not spared you a passing thought.’
‘Ouch!’ He allowed himself the suggestion of a smile, not wanting to be impressed by this forthright young woman who didn’t simper or flutter her lashes in an effort to hold his attention.
‘We seem to be creating speculation,’ she said. ‘And since you cannot be bothered to talk to me, there seems little point in prolonging an interlude that is painful to us both. Pray, excuse me.’
She turned away from him—but Ross’s voice, asking her not to go, had the desired effect.
‘You should be aware that entering a ballroom requires you to behave in a prescribed fashion,’ she said in a disapproving tone as she turned back to face him again.
He glanced dispassionately at the dance in progress. ‘I had forgotten just how important dancing is in this so-called civilized society.’
‘And yet here you are.’
‘Here I am.’
‘It seems to me that you have also forgotten how to smile, if you do not mind my remarking upon the fact.’
He offered her a suggestion of the smile she had just accused him of suppressing. ‘I smile when something amuses me.’
‘Then clearly you possess a taciturn personality, and I feel very sorry for you. You might find this entire rigmarole tiresome, but I find it endlessly entertaining and it gives me a great deal to smile about.’
‘Ladies are known for their enjoyment of dancing.’
She arched a brow, her stance mildly combative. ‘And men are not?’
‘You are asking the wrong man. I cannot recall the last occasion upon which I graced the floor.’
‘Of course. You have been in America. That must have been inspiring.’
‘It was certainly less complicated than the expectations…’ He waved a hand towards the throng and allowed his words to trail off.
‘You cannot surely be that naïve,’ she said, irritation underlying her words.
‘I fail to understand you.’
She waved his response impatiently aside. ‘You understand me very well. You must have been aware of the stir you would create by stepping into this ballroom, yet you pretend to find it intrusive and hide away behind a pillar.’ She sent him a playful smile. ‘Such cowardice.’
‘Careful!’ He responded to her criticism with a question. ‘Why did you deliberately bring yourself to my attention?’
‘I should have thought that would be obvious, even to you, but if you intend to embarrass me by forcing me to spell it out then I will do so.’ She wagged an elegant finger beneath his nose. Ross idly recalled that the last person to wag a finger at him—an aggressive man in Carolina keen to pick a fight—finished up nursing a broken digit. ‘You are no longer in mourning, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’ She glanced at his black armband and treated him to an arch smile. ‘I would offer you my condolences, but for the fact that I sense you would have no time for them. Besides, I am not sure that my expression would be heartfelt.’
She was now assured of Ross’s complete attention. Not that there had been much doubt of her having engaged it. ‘You are very forthright.’
‘It saves misunderstandings, your grace.’
‘You just now accused me of being reclusive—’
She shook her head, setting her curls dancing. ‘That is not what I said.’
‘Even so, it is probably what you meant.’
She arched a brow in an imperious manner. ‘You include mind-reading amongst your talents?’
‘My point is that you are almost as disinclined for this…’ He waved a hand in the direction of the dance. ‘Of this mating ritual as I am.’
Her spontaneous laughter, a light, tinkling sound, stimulated Ross’s latent senses and made it difficult for him to keep her at arm’s length. He didn’t entirely trust her, but already suspected that she was a very different proposition to her sister. This young woman was courageous and unimpressed by Ross’s stature; she was possibly the only person in the room who didn’t hope to make a favourable impression upon him.
She interested him.
‘What a very unique way to describe one of society’s foremost balls—but nonetheless accurate. Anyway, we digress. I am not my sister. Our characters are diametrically opposed, as, I suspect, are your own and your late brother’s.’ He arched a brow but his brooding silence didn’t seem to deter her from making her point. ‘However, society judges me by her behaviour and if you had cut me then I would no longer have been made welcome anywhere.’
‘Good heavens!’
She chuckled. ‘You have been away for a long time.’
‘I do not hold you responsible for what happened to Andrew.’
‘I am very glad to hear it. I don’t have much time for society myself, despite finding it amusing, but I should be very sorry if my aunt and uncle were ostracised through no fault of their own. They have been very good to us.’
‘How do I set matters right with you?’ Ross felt disadvantaged. Give him a recalcitrant miner to deal with and he would know where he stood. But the complications inherent to English society were a mystery to him.
‘You have already done so, simply by speaking to me for five minutes. I came with the precise intention of engaging your attention. I knew you would be here and hoped I might be able to get close enough to exchange a few words with you.’ She grinned. ‘I assumed that you would be inundated with attention, not hiding from it.’
He raised both brows, enjoying her lively company enormously. Enjoying it a little too much, truth to tell. He was here to get answers, not flirt with the sister of the woman whom he held partially responsible for his brother’s death. ‘Why were you so anxious to see me? And how did you know I would be here?’
‘As to the why, I should have thought that would have been obvious. You are back in London and our paths are bound to cross within society’s…well, mating ritual, as you call it.’ Her lips quirked. ‘And I knew you would be here because the gossip mill has never been in better working order.’
Ross frowned. ‘I don’t have the pleasure of understanding you.’
She tutted. ‘Are you really so obtuse? So out of touch, or is it a ruse?’
‘A ruse?’ He shook his head. ‘I feel like I have landed in the middle of some form of tribal ritual within a society that’s totally alien to me.’
A smile touched her lips. ‘A very accurate description of our world at play. You’re learning. But anyway, within an hour of your accepting Lady McBride’s invitation, the whole of London knew you would be here. It’s quite a cachet for her ladyship to have procured the questionable pleasure of your attendance.’
‘It is?’ Ross probably looked as flummoxed as he felt and chose not to take exception to her back-handed compliment.
‘Certainly it is. You are a duke, even though it seems to me that you would prefer not to be. You are eligible, tolerable to look at and, it’s been said, exceedingly wealthy. But you have not shown your face in society since your period of mo
urning ended. Your coming this evening ensured that no one would decline their invitations, thereby assuring Lady McBride’s success. You are a curiosity, you see,’ she went on to explain. ‘No one knows much about you, but everyone would like to.’
‘Everyone besides you, it would seem. Which begs the question, why come in expectation of seeing me if you were unsure of your reception?’
‘You really cannot be that dense,’ she replied with an impatient huff. ‘We both know that your brother and my sister scandalised London—and believe me, that takes some doing. Unfortunately, my sister’s behaviour reflects badly upon the rest of us, so as I have already explained I was hoping to exchange a few words with you in front of society’s elite, assuming you would be too polite to deal me the cut direct in the middle of a ballroom. Fortunately, you did not do so and have shown this lot that you don’t hold me responsible for the sins, real or imagined, of my relative.’
‘That took courage,’ he said softly.
She waved the compliment aside. ‘Perhaps.’
She looked away from him, a little flustered. All the time they had been at odds, she had given as good as she got, but the moment Ross lowered his defences and allowed a modicum of admiration into his words she seemed unable to face him. She really was an enticing package; lively, opinionated, brave and outspoken. Ross stirred as he continued to observe her, his emotional turmoil in danger of escaping from the cage he’d restricted it to for as long as he could recall. Emotion was dangerous. It deflected a man’s attention away from what mattered. There was no place for emotional investment in Ross’s world, and that was just the way he liked it.
‘I would like to talk to you about Andrew and your sister, but not here.’ He glanced around at the milling crowd, some of whom appeared to be pressing closer to them than was strictly necessary, despite the crush of bodies, presumably hoping to overhear a snippet that could then be exaggerated with every retelling. ‘I need to understand, to know what…’
A Duke in Turmoil: Dangerous Dukes Vol 9 Page 2