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“That’s what happens when you dance too close together.”

“Oh, so you are now worried about dancing too close with a man?” Nick asked, his smile sardonic. It made Sophia grow still in his hold, barely dancing at all. He had to force her into the next steps, their movements wooden. “You seemed rather close with the Duke of Pemberton at times when you danced.”

“It was merely the choreography of the cotillion.” Yet Sophia could see her words didn’t seem to do much to persuade her brother-in-law.

He turned the two of them round and moved across the floor again, keeping to the three time. Sophia felt pinned under his gaze. Unable to return that look, she turned her head and sought out another face instead.

In the crowd beside the dancefloor, she found the face she was seeking. Jeremy was there. He was beside his friend, Lord Thorne, though he didn’t seem very interested in what Lord Thorne had to say. Jeremy’s focus was on Sophia instead. The lines in his face were more prominent than usual, as if he were holding himself tense. The moment he realized she was looking at him, he offered her a small smile.

Is he trying to reassure me?

It didn’t help. Her attention was jerked back to Nick as he took a harsher hold of her waist.

“Nick… you’re hurting me,” she warned, her voice a hiss. At once, he softened that hold.

“If you are to dance with one man so many times in a night, do not make it the Duke of Pemberton.”

“Why not? He is a good man,” Sophia insisted. “If you are going to take on the role of a protective brother-in-law at this moment, then this is not the way to do it.”

“No? Sophia, you have turned your attentions on a known rake.” He shook their hands that were grasped to one another. She tried her best to loosen her fingers from his, but it had little effect.

Sophia grew very conscious of how much stronger than her Nick was. If he had wanted to, he could have dragged her off this floor and put her in the carriage. She could have fought him, but if she were unable to even extricate her hand from his, how would she fare with fighting against his full strength?

“The Duke of Pemberton is well known for his attitudes towards ladies of theton. He plays with them, toys with them, as if they are nothing more than courtesans.” Nick moved toward her, whispering the words harshly in her ear so no other dancers could hear them.

Sophia thought back to the night with Jeremy. She hadn’t felt like a courtesan then. It had felt like so much more than that. Everything they had shared had been thrilling, full of forbidden excitement, yes, but it was more than just a transaction.

“I am not a courtesan,” Sophia muttered in hatred. Nick lifted his head a little more. His pointed features were angled down toward her, encouraging her to jerk her head back, trying to increase the distance between them.

She didn’t doubt if anyone watched the two of them dancing for long enough, they would see the discomfort there.

“Then do not act like one,” Nick said, his voice sharp. At the words, her jaw dropped, outraged at the accusation. “If I hear any rumors of you and the Duke, Sophia, then…”

“Then what?” She didn’t flinch but raised her chin higher. She may have been much shorter than Nick, yet she was not going to cower to him. “What would you do, Nick? What would you say? In case you have not noticed, you are not my guardian.”

“I am as good as. I am the Earl of Elkins now, and you are the Dowager Lady Elkins.”

“I was your brother’s wife. That does not make you my keeper now he is dead.” Her words seemed to change something. He jerked her forward once again, so much so that she had to plant her feet into the dusky pink marble floor beneath her, to stop herself colliding with his chest. “No more of this, Nick!” She spoke a little louder this time.

“Shh.” He looked back and forth, clearly wary of others watching them and gossiping.

“Ah, is this what concerns you so? Are you worried that your rather bold sister-in-law could compromise her reputation, and that would reflect badly on you?” She could have scoffed at the idea. She had seen time and time again how formal Nick was, how he prided himself on the respect he had in the ton. She also remembered once hearing her husband talk of Nick’s wish for propriety.

She and her husband had never been close, but one night after he had been in his cups, he had confessed to her that he worried about Nick sometimes.

‘I never really know what’s going on in his head, Sophia. He’s so proper all the time, doing what he thinks he should, so that he doesn’t say what he really thinks.’

‘Is that so awful?’She had remembered asking him, rather confused by the statement.

‘I fear it could be. In fact… it scares me.’

She hadn’t really understood what her husband had meant. In fact, she had brushed that conversation off as merely the ramblings of a drunken man, but now as she danced with Nick, staring at him as he glared at her, she began to understand what her husband had meant.

Nick scares me too.

“What would it matter to you, Nick, if I was a little wayward? Are you merely worried about what people would say of me? Of you?” She pushed him further. There was a muscle that ticked in his jaw with these words, as if he were on the cusp of cracking, and saying something he knew he shouldn’t. “I do not care what people say of me, Nick. I am not saying I wish to entertain the Duke of Pemberton’s company, but if I did, it is my decision. It is not yours.”

He cracked. His hands suddenly grabbed her harder. Her breath left her as his fingers dug into her waist and her hand bent back at an unnatural angle beneath his.

“Nick!” She tried to keep her voice quiet, but the pain was evident. She glanced either side of her, but the other dancers didn’t notice her discomfort.

“You wish to dally with a man, Sophia? Very well, but that man will not be the Duke of Pemberton.” He moved his head forward an inch. “It should be me.”


Tags: Sally Vixen Historical