fireworks display probably didn’t exist outside his imagination, anyway. She certainly hadn’t put in an appearance in her aunt’s drawing room. That girl had been all polite propriety and butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth missishness. Even when he’d spoken to her directly, he’d gained the impression she wanted to shrink into the sofa cushions and disappear from view. If he’d come across that Miss Underwood at a ball or a supper party, he wouldn’t have spared her a second thought. He certainly wouldn’t have drifted off to sleep with a vision of her, crouching on the ground, holding Mrs Pagett’s hand in his mind. Or gone on to dream about joining her on the ground and giving in to the temptation to run his hand through the rips in her skirts to find the silken skin of her calves.
He mounted the front steps and rapped on the door. Putting this inconvenient fascination for Miss Underwood to bed was what he would accomplish this afternoon. And then he could return to his well-ordered existence where his every move was dictated by duty, honour and reason.
Not emotion or desire.
* * *
‘Here he is!’ Aunt Agnes was practically jumping up and down on the spot. She’d spent all morning deciding what to wear. If there had been time, she would have gone out and purchased an entirely new carriage dress and bonnet. ‘Oh!’ She clapped her hands to her chest. ‘He has come in the most ridiculous vehicle. There can hardly be room for us both in it. I hope he doesn’t intend...’ She whirled round to look at Sofia with narrowed eyes. ‘It is the height of impropriety to go driving, alone, with a single gentleman to whom you are not related.’
‘You had better inform him of that fact when he comes in,’ said Sofia, tongue in cheek.
‘Don’t be ridiculous! As if he needs telling. He must have changed his mind about the outing, that is what it is,’ she said, trotting over to the mirror and fluffing her hair into place. ‘At least he is gracious enough to come and inform us.’ She plopped herself down and arranged her skirts only a moment before Babbage came to announce their visitor.
The Duke strode in on the tail end of the butler’s words. He glanced at Sofia, where she was sitting on the sofa, Snowball next to her with her muzzle on her lap. ‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ he said, bowing to each of them. ‘Are you not ready?’ He shot a rather irritated glance at Sofia. ‘I did specify three o’clock and I do not wish to keep my horses standing.’
‘Oh, but we thought you must have changed your mind,’ said Aunt Agnes.
He whirled on her. ‘Why should you think any such thing? Besides, if I had done so I should have sent a note. Well?’ He turned to Sofia again.
‘I have only to don my pelisse and bonnet,’ she said, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on his and pretending not to notice the frantic, yet furtive, way Aunt Agnes was trying to attract her attention. If she wanted to forbid her from going out with him unchaperoned, then she should jolly well have told him that it was highly improper behaviour the moment he’d suggested it. Sofia had never been invited to go out for a drive with a gentleman to whom she was not related. And she had no intention of letting such a treat slip through her fingers. Hadn’t she promised herself, when Uncle Ned had finally agreed to bring her to the seaside, that she was going to make the most of every opportunity for enjoyment that came her way? And start putting the past behind her?
‘Well, hurry along, then,’ said her means of escaping her aunt and uncle for an hour or so.
Sofia hurried into the hall and into her pelisse and bonnet. Snowball, who recognised these signs of human behaviour as the prelude to going for a walk, ran around and around in circles, almost tripping the Duke when he came into the hallway himself.
‘Here, Snowball,’ said Sofia, bending down to scoop her dog up into her arms. ‘You do not mind me bringing her along, do you?’ Belatedly, she considered that the Duke might not like to have an animal of such dubious heritage perched up on the lap of the lady he was about to parade about the lanes in his curricle. A lady, moreover, who was sporting a rather spectacular black eye.
The Duke looked at the wriggling bundle of fluff in Sofia’s arms, then looked into her face, as though his thoughts were following the same path her own had just wandered down. ‘Not at all,’ he said with chilling politeness. ‘Though would the creature not prefer to take a walk? With a footman?’
‘Oh, I shall take Snowball out again later for exercise,’ she said, airily ignoring his hint. ‘This carriage ride is just an extra treat for her. She absolutely loves carriage rides.’
‘Indeed,’ he said drily, eyeing Babbage in such a way that the butler went and opened the front door for them to exit.
‘Oh, yes, you should have seen her during our trip here,’ she said, making her way down the front steps. ‘She kept her nose to the door the entire time, breathing in all the smells wafting in with her eyes half-shut as though she was in some sort of doggy heaven.’
‘Hmmph. Dogs do tend to experience life through their noses,’ he conceded as he handed her up on to the seat of the curricle. As he went around to the other side to climb in, Sofia put Snowball down right in the middle of the bench seat. The Duke paused in the act of taking his own seat and raised his left eyebrow.
‘So this little bundle of fluff is in reality the chaperon I took such pains to exclude from our outing.’
‘A girl cannot be too careful with her reputation,’ she said, parroting one of her aunt’s most frequent homilies.
‘I have a groom to stand up behind, naturally. However,’ he said, settling into the seat and taking the reins, ‘you are to be commended for not attempting to take advantage of the situation.’
‘Take advantage? Whatever do you mean?’
‘Most females in your position,’ he said, nodding to the groom to let go of the horses’ heads, ‘would be trying to take hold of my arm under the pretence of being afraid of the motion of the vehicle.’
‘We haven’t set out yet,’ she said, as he flicked the reins and set it in motion. ‘That is,’ she hastily amended as the groom leapt nimbly up behind, ‘there is a little rail here by my side which I can hang on to should you prove to be a careless driver.’
Sofia could tell the Duke did not like the implication that she might dislike the manner of his driving by the way his jaw clenched, but fortunately before either of them could pursue that topic any further, Snowball caught sight of a cat sitting on the window ledge of one of the houses they were passing and let out a loud bark.
‘Hush, Snowball,’ said Sofia, tapping the dog’s nose firmly with two fingers to reinforce the command.
The Duke snorted. ‘You cannot expect any self-respecting dog not to bark at a cat.’
‘On the contrary. I have trained Snowball to be silent when required.’ She’d had to. Aunt Agnes had at first objected so strongly to having the animal in the house that she’d spent hours and hours training her dog into total obedience. ‘Now that I have given the command she will not bark again until I give her leave, I promise you.’
‘A remarkable animal, then,’ he said, glancing down at Snowball. ‘A good deal of poodle in the family, I take it?’
‘Yes, I think so. I have to have her trimmed regularly or she becomes completely circular in appearance. Like a snowball on legs, in fact.’
‘Ah, hence the name.’
‘No, when she was a pup, she just looked like a little furry snowball. And it was Christmas. The name just came to me.’
‘Her tail has the look of a spaniel, though.’
‘Yes, her mother was definitely a spaniel. It was the father who...’
Oh, lord, why had she never seen it before? That was why Jack had given her the puppy. Because she was of mixed breed. It had been a cruel joke, referencing Sofia’s own background.
Was that why Aunt Agnes had been