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He started to walk away, but this time, she caught his elbow and stopped him. “It does matter, Nicholas. Tell me about your parents’ marriage.”
“Why?”
“Did they love each other?”
He looked away from her, staring at the small petals opening on the rosebush. “I do not know.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mother died in childbirth with my younger brother. I was only two at the time. If not for the portrait at the estate, I would not know what she looked like.”
“I had no idea.” Sophie bit down on her lip. Why did she sense there was more to this? “I did not know you had a brother. Tell me about him. What is he like?”
She felt his muscles tense under her hand. Closing her eyes for a long moment, she knew what had happened to his brother. “Smallpox,” she whispered.
“Is there nothing I can keep from you?” he asked roughly.
She shrugged. “When you try, I can’t read you. In fact, most of the time I cannot read you. It’s only when you let your guard down that I can.”
“None of this matters. I need a wife. You don’t want to be my wife. So I am going back into the ballroom to find one. Good evening, Miss Reynard.”
Sophie watched him walk away and her heart ached with sadness. He had lost so much in his life. She wondered briefly what it would be like to marry him. Shaking her head, she knew she could not let her thoughts wander such a dangerous path. She was a bastard. A nonentity in the eyes of Society.
Chapter 10
Nicholas danced with a few beautiful, young women but none of them held his interest for the short time they danced. He wanted more out of a woman than the latest gossip or fashions. Unfortunately, most of the ladies he knew who could carry on real conversations were married. He sipped a brandy and glanced around the room. His gaze immediately found her.
Surrounded by her friends, Sophie appeared content and smiled at them. But as he studied her, he noticed her smile never reached her eyes. She looked lonely. Before he could stop himself, he walked over to the group of ladies.
“Nicholas, I would recognize you anywhere,” Jennette said with a forced sounding laugh.
For once, the sound of her voice didn’t affect him. Odd. Normally just hearing her speak would send warmth all over his body.
The rest of the ladies murmured their greetings, except Sophie. Her gaze darted between him and Jennette. He could feel Sophie’s jealousy from the short distance between them. A slight smile raised his lips. He wanted her to be jealous. At least that meant she felt something toward him.
“Jennette, would you do me the honor of a dance?”
Jennette’s dark brows rose, but she nodded. “I would love to, Nicholas.”
Sophie’s gray eyes turned cold as stone. “I’m sure he would love that, too,” she mumbled.
Nicholas choked back a laugh as he held out his arm to Jennette. Walking to the dance floor, he said, “You look lovely tonight.”
And she did. Her sapphire gown matched her eyes. The low décolleté of her gown emphasized her full breasts. While a few weeks ago it would have been torture to hold her so close, knowing he could never go farther than a dance, tonight his mind and gaze remained on Sophie.
“You are very quiet tonight, Jennette. Are you well?”
Jennette blinked and then nodded slowly. “I am well, thank you.”
“I have known you too long to accept that distressingly polite response.”
“Not now, Nicholas. Not here.”
Nicholas wondered what could possibly be wrong. Glancing around, he realized he had yet to see Blackburn. “Where is your husband tonight?”
“He wasn’t feeling well and stayed home.”
Perhaps that was all there was to it. If Blackburn was ill then Jennette might be coming down sick, too. Or she might be worried about her husband as a loving wife should.
