He leaned closer, hoping to intimidate her into leaving. “And how do you feel about wicked men?”
Sophia centered the focus of those large blue eyes on him. “Intrigued.”
He didn’t hide his surprise well enough, and she gave a breathless chuckle.
“I suppose now I am the one being wicked.”
Indeed she was, and he couldn’t help but be intrigued. Several people had begun to notice their conversation without a chaperone. It didn’t surprise him they had caught the attention of others. Lady Sophia was a light that drew moths to her flame. With her charm, her joie de vivre and her alluring attraction.
He was no exception.
It would be best to leave before her aunt assumed he was interested in marriage.
Because he was not, nor would he ever be.
“I think I’d like to know more,” Lady Sophia said. “They say you own a gaming hell. Is that true?”
He should smirk and walk away. Let her burn with curiosity.
Boring.
Bah!
Without entirely meaning to, he found himself offering her his arm. “Would you care to take a turn about the room?”
“Please.” She slipped her small hand into the crook of his arm. There was a pleasant smell about her, a bright, citrusy scent that was as fresh as it was appealing.
“Well, do you?” Lady Sophia allowed him to escort her around the perimeter of the ballroom. “Own a gaming hell?”
He scoffed. “I’m a partial owner to one, but it isn’t entirely mine.”
“Oh.” There was a note of disappointment in her voice.
Boring.
The word nipped at the back of his mind again. He’d never put much consideration into what others thought of him. Or at least, he’d presumed to be past all that.
But somehow, the idea of being seen as stodgy in Lady Sophia’s eyes made him feel old and tiredly bland, though he was only a couple of years her senior.
It was that foolish thought which led to an even more foolish admission to the young woman. “The rumors about my running whisky from Scotland, however, are not without merit.”
She snapped her head toward him, her eyes going even wider with interest. “Are they?”
There was something about having the attention of the most sought after woman in the room. It was intoxicating and heady. Unlike anything Kendal had ever experienced.
He didn’t let on that he found her company so agreeable and merely tilted his head in confirmation.
“Did you transport it?” she whispered.
“I did.”
“Did you make it?” she asked.
“I did.”
“In Scotland?”
He nodded.
Her fingers curled snugger around his arm. “How?”
They were the focus of every person in the room at that moment. He was with Lady Sophia Stopford. Women’s eyes sharpened with interest, and men’s narrowed with malice. All those years that he had been jabbed with nasty comments, and now he was with the crown jewel of the season. Of many seasons, in fact.
He’d never thought himself the type to crave her company as others had. But then, he had never been graced with her presence before. He’d no idea how intoxicating it could be for her wide sea blue eyes to settle on him, so reactive and expressive, her lips hovering in a ready smile she seemed almost eager to share.
Perhaps that was why he went into such detail on the act of creating and selling whisky, answering each question with a thorough reply, giving way to her fascination about whisky as he indulged his sudden interest in her.
When at last her questions began to dwindle, the lingering spark in her eye told him that perhaps she might have altered her opinion of him.
Not that he should care.
What mattered most was that he steered her curiosity from Mercy’s Door—and Marguerite—and to something far less dangerous.
Sophia found Lord Kendal surprising. Not only was he not the stodgy earl she had assumed, but their topic of conversation was most enlightening.
And most useful.
“You make it all sound so easy.” She slowed her pace as they neared the end of their walk, not ready for their discussion to come to an end. Not when it had been so informative.
“Running whisky?” he asked.
She glanced about to ensure no one heard his words. “Yes. Is it difficult?”
“Quite the opposite.” He smirked. “It’s impossibly easy.”
There was an arrogance to the manner with which he said it, the way he’d confessed his nefarious deeds. It shouldn’t appeal to her.
But it did.
Her body was practically humming with interest.
He was different than the other men with whom she had been acquainted since her coming out. Lord Kendal hadn’t spent the time complimenting her appearance or offering strings of memorized poetry or mentioning how their families would be proud to see them wed.
He matched her pace until they were nearly at a crawl and they were finally forced to stop. Lord Kendal turned toward her and bowed. “Thank you for the company, Lady Sophia.”
She curtseyed. “I enjoyed our walk.”
“I hope it wasn’t too boring.” If he hadn’t said it with such unamused disinterest, she might have thought he was flirting.
Her cheeks went hot. “Not a single moment.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.” He bowed once more. “Good evening, Lady Sophia.”
With that, he left. Not with an offer for a bit of lemonade or asking if he might call on her the following day. As if he wasn’t at all intent on seeing her again.
Perhaps that was for the best.
Aunt Nancy had nudged Sophia toward Lord Kendal to help her out of the situation with Mr. Mongerton. And she had. Though not in the way her aunt had apparently assumed.
Another suitor was not what Sophia had been seeking. No, she had been after information for an opportunity to escape.
And Lord Kendal had presented her with one on a silver platter.
The rest of the ball went by in a blur, with Sophia’s mind half fixed on what she was doing and saying. The other half was locked on what would happen if her father still insisted she marry and what she planned to do to get out of such an unwanted situation.
It was exciting, the idea that she might forge her path.
She could be a woman of independent means. It was almost unheard of to think she could possess the ability to support herself. To live a life without society’s rules and its ridiculous fixation with marriage.
It was not all that occupied her attention through the night instead of sleep. So too did Lord Kendal. The cool way he’d discussed such disreputable dealings had been titillating. The man who had before seemed so dull was now mysterious.
Dangerous.
Alluring.
She, too, could have such a life. And she would if her father insisted on nuptials with Mr. Mongerton.
The night passed with restless agitation as ideas and plans churned in her head. At long last morning arrived, and her father made a belated entrance into the drawing room.
“Good morning, Father,” she said brightly.
He slid her an irritated glance.
Perhaps too brightly, then.
Stubble shadowed his jaw, and the skin under his eyes was bruised with exhaustion. Her stomach slithered to her toes. She knew this look well. She had seen it often.