Page 42 of A Stranger’s Gamble

“You might as well damn me to purgatory. The man is a mealy-mouthed, self-righteous—” She floundered, at a loss for words.

“Prig?” her father finished for her.

Sophie glared.

He gave a single nod. “I am pleased to see we understand one another.”

Half an hour later, the carriage let them off in front of Lady Seafield’s home. Vehicles jammed the street, and they walked behind two other couples. Sophie linked arms with Beatrice as they ascended the stairs with her father and aunt to the third floor. When they reached the ballroom, Sophie was surprised to realize she was nervous. Not because of the party, but because tonight was the moment of reconning. If not for her father, she would be able to completely avoid the marquess, or at least brush him off after the obligatory first dance—for she hadn’t any intention of granting him a second dance. But that was not to be the case.

They were met by their host, and she and Beatrice were given dance cards.

“Oh, my lady, no,” Beatrice told Lady Seafield. “I am only here as Miss Shaw’s companion.”

Lady Seafield laughed. “My dear, you are far too beautiful to stand on the sidelines.”

“My lady, really—”

Lady Seafield waved a hand. “If I do not give you a dance card, fights are likely to break out for the privilege of dancing with you. I cannot have that.”

Beatrice blinked.

“Oh look,” her ladyship said. “Here comes your first partner now, Miss Frasier.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened, and she cast Sophie a pleading look. Sophie shrugged and didn’t quite hide the smile she fought.

A young man no more than twenty years old stopped beside them. “My lady.” He bowed to Lady Seafield, then faced Sophie and Beatrice and bowed again.

“Baron Kinley, may I present Miss Beatrice Frasier.” Lady Seafield angled her head toward Beatrice.

Sophie was silently pleased when the young man’s eyes lit with pleasure.

“Miss Frasier, a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

Beatrice extended a hand—as Sophie knew Beatrice had been trained to do at Miss Childer’s School for Young Ladies in Inverness.

The baron grasped her hand and bent over her fingers. Beatrice blushed, and Sophie realized she’d been thoughtless to have not seen before now that her friend was lonely.

The music ended and Sophie quickly helped Beatrice tie the small string attached to the dance card around her left wrist, then watched as the baron lead Beatrice to the dancefloor. The orchestra began a country dance, and Beatrice and the baron became lost in the sea of dark suits and flared silk and taffeta.

“She does not know how beautiful she is, does she?” Lady Seafield asked.

Sophie chuckled. “No, my lady. She has not the slightest idea.”

“I would say the same of you.”

Sophie tied the string on the dance card around her left wrist. “I have endured enough male attention to know I am beautiful.”

Lady Seafield lifted a brow. “Endured?”

“Sometimes, that is the case.” She leaned close. “But not always.”

“Exactly,” the older woman replied. “Ah, I believe I see your dance partner. He is late.”

Despite knowing this partner was not Lord Monthemer, Sophie’s heart began to beat fast, and she looked in the direction Lady Seafield stared. A man of about thirty years of age nodded to a man to his right, then his attention shifted onto Sophie. He was very handsome. Tall, fair haired with broad shoulders. A perfect companion for a dance or two. Nae, only one dance, as her father ordered. Maybe.

The gentleman reached them and bowed. “Lady Seafield. I beg your forgiveness in being late. Miss Henshaw took a fall and sprained her ankle, and I was obliged to help her to her carriage.”

“How gallant of you,” Lady Seafield said, but Sophie thought she detected a touch of sarcasm.