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“Do you remember the archery contest Harry and I indulged in that Christmas at Pendleton?” he said in a thoughtful voice.
“I barely recall it.”
His smile told her he knew s
he was lying. “Harry won. He always had to win.” He leaned in closer. “He’s watching us now.”
With an effort Sophy prevented herself from checking to see. “Do you remember everything from that Christmas, Mr Abbott?” she asked him a bored voice. “One would almost think it was the highlight of your life thus far.”
He only just stopped himself from scowling. “You think you are very clever, don’t you, Sophy?”
“I don’t recall giving you permission to use my first name.”
“But we are such old friends.”
“Mr Abbott, I think of you as an acquaintance at best ... when I think of you at all.”
Then Digby stopped moving and Sophy looked up to see what was wrong.
Harry was standing beside them.
Her heart stuttered when she saw how angry he looked. His mouth drawn down and his gold flecked brown eyes alive with heated emotion. After a glance at her he turned his attention to Digby.
“I’d like a word,” he said, and it wasn’t a request.
“Unfortunately, I’m otherwise engaged at the moment,” Digby responded, his mouth twisted with derision. “You’re not the king of this castle, Baillieu. Wait until we’re finished.”
Harry was still staring at him, his shoulders stiff, his hands clenched. He was so angry and at the same time he appeared to be wishing he was anywhere but here. Her gaze slid by him and she noticed that the other dancers were watching and murmuring behind their hands. It wouldn’t be long until more guests began to take an interest. That was the last thing she wanted. A scandal was not something any young woman courted, especially one who was already under suspicion.
“You’re causing a scene,” she whispered.
His stare didn’t move from Digby as he leaned forward and said in a voice not to be argued with, “I’ll cause more of a scene if you don’t speak to me.”
Digby smirked but he shifted a little uneasily under the censorious gaze of an elderly matron. Perhaps he wasn’t keen on being the centre of attention either. After a brief hesitation, he stepped away from Sophy, but kept her hand a prisoner of his as he spoke to her. “Let’s humour him.”
Sophy didn’t want to humour Harry and she certainly didn’t want to be this close to him. Her skin prickled with awareness and she couldn’t bear to look at him because everything about him was so familiar, so dear to her, and yet he wasn’t hers any longer. Knowing that made her heart break all over again.
So she kept her eyes straight ahead as Digby led her off the dance floor. Behind her the music continued and she knew if she had to make her choice again she wouldn’t have agreed to dance with him at all. It didn’t matter that he was James’s brother, he wasn’t anything like James. She should have swallowed her pride and refused.
She had noticed the alcoves around the room, half hidden by draperies and marble busts on pedestals, and it was to one of these that Digby was taking her. She almost dug her heels in when he pulled aside the velvet draped curtain, and then bowed politely, indicating that Sophy should go first. She wanted to say no, but to object would only make things worse. Although she did not trust Digby, Harry was here, and despite everything that now lay between them, she was surprised to realise that she still trusted him.
A moment later she was in the enclosed space with the two angry men facing each other in front of her. If Sophy had been a young lady of good family with a proper chaperone, she would never have been left here alone with one gentleman, let alone two.
“What is your game?” Harry growled at his former friend. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Digby showed his teeth in a smile that was more like a snarl. “I’m dancing with the prettiest woman in the room, but that’s none of your business, Harry. I think you know that. Go back to your fiancé.”
Harry stiffened. “My fiancé has nothing to do with this.”
“Hasn’t she?” Digby laughed softly. “You had your chance with Sophy and you changed your mind. Too late, Harry. She no longer needs your help and she certainly doesn’t want it.”
“What about her husband? Does he trust you with his wife?” Harry demanded.
Digby blinked and Sophy could not hide her shock. Adam had warned her about this, she remembered, but she hadn’t paid the thought enough attention. “Sophy isn’t married,” Digby said.
Harry frowned, flicking a glance her way, before returning his attention to the other man. “She is married to Sir Geoffrey Bell.”
Digby smiled. “Sir Geoffrey Bell?” he shook his head. “The man could be her grandfather. Who told you that, Baillieu?”
