Page 13 of The Duke’s Cursed Virgin (Cursed Brides #3)

Chapter Twelve

“ W e should have prepared a special room for the orchestra,” fretted Lady Holton.

The night of the musicale had finally arrived. Everything was in its rightful place, and even the flowers were meticulously arranged in the drawing room.

“The place looks and smells wonderful, Lady Holton. Sometimes, you must recognize and appreciate a win,” Aunt Mary scolded, fanning herself as she raised her eyebrows at some of the more frivolous-looking ladies entering the drawing room to find a seat.

“Oh, oh. I did well, didn’t I?” a flushed Lady Holton asked.

“Your husband seems to think so. He looks like a puffed penguin, regaling the Duke with tales of his, er, preparations for the musicale,” Aunt Mary said, nodding toward the approaching men.

Lady Holton’s eyes narrowed at her husband. For a moment, Sophia felt gratified that the usually prim and proper Viscountess could show a little bit of fire when it came to matters not pertaining to her daughter.

“ His preparations?” Lady Holton grumbled.

Sophia and Anna giggled.

Truth be told, the drawing room was magnificent . Lady Holton had always tried her best when it came to preparing her home for visitors, but she had certainly outdone herself this time.

Fresh blooms filled the room with their scents, and candles gleamed gently from polished settings. The footmen were on the ready, prepared to offer refreshments whenever necessary. They stood upright, well-disciplined and seemingly used to such events.

Before Lady Holton could scold her husband in secret, more guests arrived. Sophia observed how the lady’s dark expression transformed back into a graceful smile. She especially beamed at young men and their families, more likely thinking of potential suitors for Anna.

“Thank you. Yes, it turned out this way because my dear Anna worked so hard to organize the musicale,” she would say, loud enough for anyone within earshot to hear.

Anna rolled her eyes at Sophia. They might have helped one afternoon, but it was barely something to talk about.

“I have no plans to become like my mother for my future husband, whoever that man might be,” Anna murmured. “And I only hope he won’t be like Father, who is only great at talking about things people are not interested in.”

Sophia chuckled at that.

“I hope you find a husband soon, dear Anna,” Aunt Mary said. “This way, your mother can finally take a break. Finally breathe.”

“Ugh. I am still young, My Lady,” Anna protested, wrinkling her nose.

“Let me tell you the bitter truth, my darling. You are of marriageable age. You are only young compared to my spinster niece,” Aunt Mary declared bluntly.

“You know that nobody will marry me, Auntie,” Sophia reminded her.

“Nobody? Somehow, I doubt that. I’ve seen some eyes on you. You simply have to look around, Sophia. There are young men who no longer care about superstition and such. They just need a little more encouragement, but not too much as to cause a scandal.”

Oh, that was certainly true of many courtships among the ton. It was like a forward and backward dance.

Sophia blushed at the thought that she had done more in her uncle’s study than other young women had in their courtships.

“While that may be true, Auntie, some young men will still obey their mothers.”

“Then you will not miss much. You are better off as a spinster than a woman whose husband still clings to his mother’s skirts.”

Anna laughed. “It seems that my mother’s prospects are precisely those kinds of men,” she muttered as all three followed Lady Holton’s movements.

Among those men, however, was someone who certainly could not be told what to do. He stood there, his hair still unfashionably longer than what was conventional. His dark brown beard was well-trimmed in deliberate contrast, hinting that he chose which rules to follow.

The Duke of Wolvesley.

Sophia had not seen him since her uncle’s ball, which was held about three weeks ago. She thought he’d make an appearance during her weekly strolls or visit the Holtons to discuss the musicale. However, there was not even a shadow of him. He merely sent messengers and helped arrange the musicale from a distance.

“Always busy, but so willing to help us,” Lord Holton had commented one time.

Though Sophia was unwilling to admit it, the Duke’s absence had caused her some distress.

“It’s only because you expected to be annoyed,” she had muttered to herself.

But disappointment was disappointment, and it hung heavy over her for days. She was grateful for the hustle and bustle inside the Holtons’ home, which made everyone’s attention shift to Lady Holton and her frenzied preparations.

His absence could be because he was never interested in her in the first place, or he was good at playing games. Either way, it made her anxious.

And whatever the case might be now, her throat went dry at the sight of him.

“Why are you restless like an eight-year-old, Sophia?” Aunt Mary asked, her voice humiliatingly loud.

Sophia realized that she had been twitching and fidgeting, her fingers clutching at her pearls. Yes, her aunt insisted that she wear strands of pearls around her neck—something to strangle herself with.

“Uh, I am merely anxious about tonight. I hope that it’ll be a resounding success.”

“You are lying, my dear—and to your aunt, no less,” Aunt Mary scoffed.

Sophia kept her mouth shut after that, knowing that there was no fooling the Dowager Countess. She also had a duty to avoid the Duke, no matter how dashing and composed he looked.

His hair was still in its unruly length, but there was an effortless suaveness about it. There was no denying that he was looking their way.

She had to remind herself that it was not only her reputation that she had to mind. Anna could lose hers by association. It was the way of Society.

So, no matter how hard it was, Sophia tore her eyes away from the handsome Duke of Wolvesley.

“You’ve been watching her for several minutes now, my friend,” Philip commented, shaking his head in awe as he clapped Theo on the back.

“That’s ridiculous. I have barely glanced her way,” Theo replied.

Could he have been staring that long?

“There are many other people around her, too.”

He couldn’t help himself. His nights were filled with visions of her—some bathed in golden light, where she wandered through gardens in flowing white, and others, steeped in desire, where she writhed upon his sheets, tangled in heat and need.

Thoughts that were inappropriate for musicales. Thoughts that were so much more tempting for that very reason.

He could not take his eyes off her. Even with the matronly pearls and a dress that wasn’t quite as fashionable as the ones worn by the other ladies, Lady Sophia was easily the most stunning woman in the room.

He had made the right decision to push Holton to host this event. He had also financed it in part, which the older man welcomed eagerly.

“You must love music immensely,” Holton had murmured.

“Yes, I love music and everything that comes with it,” Theo had replied, spinning half a lie.

The musicale would, after all, come with Sophia’s presence.

“You will ruin your reputation, Your Grace, if you keep on watching her like a hawk. She is not your prey, dear sir. She is like a daughter to our host,” Philip reminded him. “May I introduce you to some of the widows in attendance?”

Theo’s lip curled. He had not thought of his paramours in a long time. Once one widow had decided to go back to her solitary ways, he never had any problem with agreeably parting ways.

There would always be another woman.

“There’s no need for that. I despise the fact that some of our peers are whispering about my previous activities,” he said sullenly, his eyes still fixed on Lady Sophia.

The lady that caught his full attention was no longer looking in his direction. Instead, she was slowly blending in with the crowd, drifting away. There were even a few young men swarming around her and Miss Martin.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

Wasn’t she supposed to be the cursed, the last one of the three? It was interesting how people’s opinions of her friends had changed after they married dukes.

He exhaled sharply, trying his best to look away, but he could not help but notice that Sophia was drawing the attention of admirers. She more likely had no idea.

“Miss Martin looks positively radiant tonight, Wolvesley,” Philip taunted.

Knowing Philip, he would do something about it. His boyish smirk and mischievous eyes were fixed on Holton’s daughter. It was a dangerous thing to do—to act as if their host’s daughter was a delicious meal.

Theo groaned softly, his gaze snapping to his friend. “You must behave yourself, Longford. We are here as honorable guests.”

“Ah. But you know me well enough,” Philip complained, putting a hand on his chest.

“That is why I am warning you.”

It was difficult to concentrate on any conversation when a duke was staring at you shamelessly. Sophia was trying her best not to get too overwhelmed. She was often soft-spoken and didn’t have many people in her tiny social circle, but she was not shy. She had never been.

At the moment, though, with Anna’s suitors, the musicale’s way of putting everyone in close quarters, and the Wolf Duke trying to gain her attention, she felt unsettled.

In the natural way of things, guests were milling around, finding someone to talk to. The gentle chatter buzzed in Sophia’s ears, but there was no more time for introspection as Daphne and Anthony approached.

“What a delightful idea to have a musicale!” Daphne exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Oh, I wish I could bring the children. They love music, too, but I think they would be too tired?—”

“Of course, they would. This is entertainment for discerning adults,” Anthony interrupted.

Sophia tried not to scrunch up her face in distaste. As much as she was growing to like Daphne, she was still suspicious of her uncle.

“But I must say it again, now that I see Lady Holton coming toward us—the musicale is a wonderful idea. You have outdone yourself, Lady Holton!” Daphne gushed, her palms pressed together in youthful glee.

The movement emphasized how much older Anthony was. Then again, that was typical among the ton.

Sophia could not help but wonder just how much older the Duke was than her.

“You are too kind, Lady Foxmere,” Lady Holton replied, beaming at everyone. All her annoyance with her husband was gone. “It was, however, my husband’s idea. The Duke of Wolvesley had also expressed interest in music. Your masquerade ball must have inspired everyone!”

“We were very glad to have several notable people in attendance. I believe the masquerade ball was a success,” Anthony remarked. “And we are seeing the same thing unfolding here, but?—”

He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. His eyebrows were knitted together, and his lips curled in distaste.

“My Lord? Has something happened?” Lady Holton asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Well, someone broke into my study at the last event,” the Marquess murmured, his expression grim. “I suppose I am grateful that this one is being held elsewhere.”

Jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, he seemed to have taken the intrusion hard.

Was he hiding something? Or did he simply dislike having his private rooms invaded? Sophia could fully understand the latter.

Guilt shot through her. What if he was not hiding anything at all?

Then it meant that she did something terribly wrong.

“Oh, how dreadful,” she managed to comment.

She’d learned in the hardest of schools how to keep her composure in the face of vicious rumors. Maintaining a serene expression when she was the culprit was child’s play.

“It must be a simple mistake,” Daphne said dismissively, waving a hand. “The door was unlocked, wasn’t it? Someone might have entered by mistake, caused some disarray out of curiosity.”

“Perhaps it was a mistake,” Anthony said with a smile, but his eyes were icy, and it wasn’t the effect of light. Sophia was certain of it.

The Marquess was not convinced.

“However, I have always been careful with my documents. Your father taught me that.”

Sophia was startled at being addressed directly, but she tried her best to keep calm. She hoped that he could not hear her heart pounding.

“I am glad that he was able to pass that on. I am still learning to be more diligent,” she replied.

“Oh, are you?”

For a moment, Anthony’s face darkened further.

Until he snapped back to his charming self, smiling and laughing with his companions while she tried to calm her heartbeat and warm her cold hands.

The Holtons, with Sophia’s help, urged the guests to take their seats, as the musicale was about to begin. Sophia sat next to Aunt Mary, determined to focus on the entertainment only.

She should not be thinking of Anthony’s suspicions.

She should not be thinking of the Duke of Wolvesley either.

For a moment, she was lost in the melody. For the music to be beautiful was not surprising. Lord Holton and the Duke had helped choose the performances. They had enough connections that they were able to secure well-known performers—ones that people actually wanted to listen to. However, Sophia could not help but feel like someone was watching her.

It had to be the prickles on her skin, the tingles along the nape of her neck. She had always had a feeling for such things. Except, this time, she wasn’t sure if she should feel dread or anticipation.

If she had been asked earlier, she would have been certain of the answer. The Duke of Wolvesley—Theo—had shown how much weight he could put into a stare. However, it could also be Anthony.

She tried not to fidget, even though she felt queasy. She didn’t want Aunt Mary to become even more suspicious of her.

Sophia turned her head slightly to her right, and her gaze locked with Theo’s. Just like earlier in the evening, he seemed to be watching her with unblinking eyes. What was surprising was that she didn’t feel fear.

It wasn’t fear that made her pulse race and her skin flush. It wasn’t fear that made her remember his hands on her body and his lips on hers.

Self-control , she reminded herself.

For years, she had been so enclosed within herself, within Aunt Mary’s estate, that she might only be reacting to the novelty. No man had been as bold in his pursuit as the Duke, even if he wanted her as a mistress and not a wife.

Something sharp dug into her side. An elbow. She managed to bite her lip so as not to cry out. She turned to her left to see her aunt glaring at her.

“Stop gawking at whatever it is,” Aunt Mary hissed. “Pay attention to the music.”

Sophia flushed. If people started noticing what was going on with her and the Duke, her reputation would not only be in tatters—as it already was—but it would also be completely destroyed.

She needed to avoid the Duke. And yet she somehow knew that the evening was a continuation of something even more dangerous.