Page 19 of A Counterfeit Engagement

As the second waltz was announced, Jonathan made his way to Mary Collins.

She was at least easy to find. One simply spotted the entourage and followed it.

Though he anticipated no pleasure in the dance, Jonathan was at least curious to see how Miss Collins would comport herself.

Would she be angry, scheming, still hopeful?

He was caught by an inescapable curiosity.

It was even within the bounds of possibility that she might have become sensible of the humiliation waiting for her, that she might ask for mercy.

If so, he would at least discuss it with Sophie.

Jonathan thought her sense might provide a rather better guide than his temper in the present instance.

And after all, Jonathan thought ruefully, Miss Collins is her cousin, her family. Hard as that is to believe.

No trace of his feelings was on his face as he bowed gallantly to Mary Collins. “Miss Collins, I believe the next dance is ours.”

“How delightful,” she said brightly, and stepped close to him, placing her hand in his. “We have spoken so little to date, Your Grace. I shall be pleased to know you better.”

Jonathan was instantly on his guard. There was something in her tone that he misliked. “Likewise, I’m sure,” he said cautiously, and led her to the dance floor. It was nearly time for the waltz to begin. They spoke of polite nothings until the music started.

∞∞∞

Sophie was rather enjoying the time spent tucked in her quiet nook. I had forgotten how noisy London is, how busy, she thought. I have spent too much time of late thinking of buildings and people, plots and possibilities. Not enough looking at the sky.

She would do her best to make up for the omission now.

Light poured out of the ballroom behind her, but it could not entirely extinguish the glory of the stars.

A waxing moon hung low in the sky, only recently risen high enough to see.

Sophie gazed out over the grounds and forgot Mary Collins entirely.

She was called back to herself by the sound of the door to the balcony opening. Sophie rose politely to greet the newcomer.

“Mr Webb!” she cried out in astonishment. It seemed a devilish coincidence, after all the trouble she had taken to avoid him.

He smiled at her. “Miss Anderson. It has been a long time.”

“Indeed, it has,” she agreed numbly, struck almost mute. She could not imagine why he did not simply make some polite excuse and go away. Sophie took a moment to gather herself and speak calmly. “Mr Webb, you must forgive me. I cannot imagine that we have anything to say to each other.”

She was relieved and rather surprised when he agreed. “Perhaps not, at that,” he said. He checked his pocket watch, nodded, and replaced it in his waistcoat. “No indeed, I think we have little enough to discuss.”

His odd behaviour puzzled Sophie, but she felt she could not be bothered to understand it. She gave an abbreviated bow and moved to step past him and back into the ballroom.

Roger stepped to block her path. Sophie looked up at him, more confused than ever, and without saying a word, he grasped her tightly and kissed her mouth.

Sophie sputtered in disgust and broke away from him. A heat composed equally of shock and fury rushed to her cheeks. “After all that happened between us and all the years gone by, you cannot possibly imagine that I want you!” she snapped.

Roger only smirked at her. “It is rather amusing that you think what you want matters,” he said calmly, and reached to grab at her again. He grabbed hold of Sophie’s necklace, no doubt thinking she might freeze.

Sophie thrashed wildly against his grip and felt the delicate chains of her ruby necklace abrade her neck as they snapped. Her precious, broken heirloom made a delicate shivery sound as it skittered across the balcony.

∞∞∞

Jonathan kept time easily with the strains of the waltz, but his heart was not in the dance.

Mary Collins was an excellent dancer and a witty conversationalist, though he did not like how fawningly she spoke of his friends and relations, and still less how coldly she spoke of her own.

He saw nothing in her to make him less disgusted by the fate he had escaped, or inclined to spare her from the embarrassment she had so richly earned.

Suddenly, Miss Collins took advantage of a lull in the dance to lean close to him. “There is something you should know about your fiancé,” she whispered in his ear.

Jonathan startled. “Excuse me, Miss Collins?”

“There is something you must know about my cousin, Sophia Anderson,” Mary Collins repeated.

She paused for a precisely calculated moment.

“I was not sure whether I ought to tell you. We are family, after all. But it is so…” she trailed off, as if thinking things too shocking to be spoken aloud by a delicate lady. “Truly, you must know, Your Grace.”

Jonathan had already been blindsided by one of the lady’s plots, and he had no intention of repeating the experience.

“You must search your own conscience,” he said evenly. What would a man who was worried about his fiancé’s reputation look like, I wonder? Jonathan thought. He did his best to look concerned. “If you think I ought to know, then please tell me.”

Mary Collins nearly managed to hide her look of triumph. “Your Grace, I do so hate to say this,” she murmured. “But my cousin Sophia, you see…she was once engaged to Roger Webb.”

“I am aware of her past engagement, Miss Collins,” Jonathan said warily.

Mary nodded, her eyes carefully downcast. “Of course, Your Grace. But are you aware that…the relationship is ongoing? That it is rather more than my cousin ought to allow, even apart from your engagement?”

Jonathan froze. Miss Collins had spoken with too much confidence. As though she expected to show him proof — proof of something he knew to be completely and utterly false. He bent his head close to hers and spoke directly into her ear.

“What have you done?”

Mary Collins giggled as though in surprised confusion. “I have not the least understanding of what you mean, Your Grace!”

Under cover of the dance, he gripped and shook her as though he could shake sense into her. “Tell me what you have done!”

Mary Collins still said nothing. Only her eyes betrayed her. They flicked for the merest instant to a small balcony Jonathan had noticed earlier in the evening. One perfect for a private conversation – or an assault.

Without a word, he left Mary Collins in the middle of the dance floor and strode away.

It felt rather like walking in a dream, moving as fast as possible and making no progress.

Finally, Jonathan made his way up the grand staircase.

The balcony door was only steps ahead. He broke almost into a run and burst out onto the balcony.

As he watched, Roger Webb was grasping at Sophie’s neck. His hand came away with the ruby necklace, bursting the delicate chains and sending it skittering over the tiles at their feet. His own heart nearly stopped at the ugly scene.

But rather than fainting, Sophie flew at Webb furiously, kicking at his shins. Though he held one hand pinned to her side with bruising force, he had unwisely left the other free when he grabbed at her, and she slapped him with all her might, finally making him reel back.

“How dare you!” Sophie hissed furiously. He could hear no trace of fear in her voice, only anger and disdain.

“You’ll regret this, wench,” Webb said in a voice ugly with rage. He advanced on her, his hands clenching into fists.

Jonathan got there first. He punched Webb in the jaw so hard he tumbled back and fell sprawled over the wicker chaise. Jonathan pulled Sophie behind him and stood looking down at him.

“Give me a reason,” he said, deadly quiet. “Give me a reason to kill you.”

Roger Webbs’s eyes widened in an instant of fear that he tried desperately to hide. He pushed himself to his feet and quickly turned to go. He stopped at the door for only an instant.

“This isn’t over,” Roger Webb hissed, and fled.

Jonathan turned around and gently took Sophie by the elbows. She was trembling, but more from adrenaline, he thought, than terror. “Are you all right?”

“Not bad,” Sophie said shakily. “I’m glad you arrived when you did!” She shivered.

“You were magnificent,” Jonathan said warmly. “You fought him like a wildcat. I have never seen a woman so ferocious.”

“Thank you, I think,” Sophie said dryly. She sighed, relaxing a little into the safety of his arms.

Then Sophie looked up and met Jonathan’s eyes. She felt her pulse speed up again. It’s so strange , Sophie thought. One moment with him, and everything falls away. All the confusion, all the anger, all the fear.

I look into his eyes, and all I want to do is kiss him.

She heard Jonathan draw in a quick, rough breath. “Sophie, I —“

Sophie never knew which of them moved first, or if they had both crossed the distance at the same moment.

Suddenly, her arms were around his neck, drawing his mouth to hers.

Suddenly, his arms were crushing their bodies together, even as their lips met and she felt herself utterly given up into the unknown.

Time and consequences fell away. For once in her life, Sophie did not think of the good and sensible thing to do. She poured herself into the moment, into the sensation of Jonathan’s mouth on hers.

Suddenly, they heard a voice only feet away. “My goodness!” It was their hostess, Mrs Collins, accompanied by several notable matrons. “How shocking! It is Miss Anderson and Mr We–“ She broke off suddenly. Her voice went rather flat. “It is Miss Anderson and the Duke of Belford.”

For a moment only, Jonathan was stunned by his own lack of perception. Of course, of course Mary Collins would have arranged to have witnesses for the ruin of Sophie’s reputation and our engagement. I was a fool not to think of it before. He quickly recovered his head.

“Please forgive me, ladies,” Jonathan said gallantly. “I should have had more respect for the gentle sensibilities of my fiancé, let alone the credit of your house, Mrs Collins. Of course, you must have pity on me for too urgently anticipating our wedding.”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Mrs Collins said with rather bad grace, thwarted. After an awkward pause, she left with her party.

The silence left behind them stretched long. “Jonathan,” Sophie began, and stopped short. She had never used his first name before, but somehow, it didn’t seem right to kiss someone passionately and then refer to them by their title.

“Sophie,” Jonathan said. “I’m afraid this rather upsets all our plans. Miss Collins outmanoeuvred us this time — although this certainly wasn’t the outcome she hoped for.”

Sophie took a deep breath. “It was my cousin, then, who sent Mr Webb? His actions seemed so wholly unaccountable.”

Jonathan nodded. “She accidentally gave the game away while we were dancing. She tried to make me believe that you and Mr Webb were a couple once more — that you were even allowing him liberties. The problem was, she was too confident that I would believe it. Since I knew it to be untrue, I was very much afraid of what she had in mind to convince me.”

Sophie shook her head in disgust. “I thought myself a good judge of character, once. But I thought Mary was a friend, and I respected Roger Webb enough to accept his proposals. I must accept that I am no judge of people at all.”

“I think you give others too much credit, no worse sin than that,” Jonathan said gently. “It is not a bad flaw.” He took a deep breath. “It is not a bad flaw to have — in a wife.”

Sophie’s lip trembled. “Oh, Jonathan.”

“Let me do this properly, for I believe it must be done.” He went down on one knee and gently took her hand.

“Miss Sophia Anderson, our acquaintance began under the strangest and most unpropitious circumstances, and it has come to be more important to me than I could have believed. I had not looked forward to the married state with much happy anticipation, but I believe now that Mary Collins has picked better for me than I ever could have picked for myself. I should like to have you with me always, in London and in the country, in fair weather and foul, as Sarah’s new sister and as my dearest friend.

And I should very much like to kiss you again.

Sophie, though we may not have much choice now, let us choose anyway. Will you marry me?”

“Jonathan, you have come to mean so much to me,” Sophie said. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. Jonathan stayed kneeling still, looking up at her and smiling. “Yes, Jonathan. I will marry you.”

He laughed joyfully and rose. They joined hands and stayed apart for a long moment, simply looking into each other’s faces. Finally, Sophie cast down her eyes.

“Jonathan…will you kiss me again?”

He needed no more invitation. Their lips met again, lingering in discovery. Finally, Jonathan broke away.

“Though I do not like to say it, I believe we must stop,” he said raggedly. “We have shocked the ton enough for one evening, I think.”

“You are right,” Sophie agreed. She took a deep, steadying breath. “Oh! My necklace!” Sophie knelt to pick it up. She rose and stood holding it in the light that poured out of the ballroom. “The chains are all broken,” she finally said.

“May I see it?” Jonathan asked. Sophie slipped the poor broken necklace into his hands.

Jonathan examined it carefully, looking at each broken link.

Finally, he smiled. “It can certainly be repaired. Unless I miss my guess, my jeweller will be able to mend it so well, the damage will be all but invisible. If you will allow me, I will take it with me and return it to you, mended, as soon as may be.”

“Please,” Sophie said gratefully. “It would be a great relief to me. I would hate to think that I was the cause of a family heirloom being destroyed.”

Jonathan suddenly looked rather serious.

“You would not be, even if it couldn’t be repaired,” he said.

“Roger Webb is to blame, not you. But I am certain it will not come to that.” Gently, he raised her left hand to his lips and kissed it.

“What do you think, Sophie? Should we stay the rest of the ball, or leave straightaway?”

Sophie thought for a moment. “Let us stay. I am equal to it, and I would like Mary Collins to know that I do not regard her or her cheap schemes in the least.”

Jonathan laughed. “That’s my wildcat,” he said. He stole one quick, light kiss, and they returned to the ballroom.

Here we are , Sophie thought, walking and chatting and preparing to dance as though nothing at all was the matter. When everything, absolutely everything has changed.