The Improper Companion

Chapter 19

Sophia twirled before her mirror.

Oh but she looked fine, she thought with a satisfied smirk. Surely no one in this silly house party could hold a candle to her even on her worst days. But today...

She grinned.

Nathaniel would take one look at her and forget about that little witch Butterworth.

But the thought of the companion reduced some of her good humour. She was a nuisance. Had she not been here, Sophia would've had that ring on her finger.

She'd decided to keep her pink taffeta for when Nathaniel would announce their nuptials. But it seemed like he'd forgotten the purpose of this house party, she thought bitterly. And so she'd worn her best gown with the most expensive pearls tonight.

The ton would see her for who she was. That Butterworth could try and act as sweet and friendly as she liked, but the moment Sophia turned on her charm, the ton would forget about the inconsequential companion. Of that she was confident.

Soon she'd be the Duchess of Bedford. She would own this mansion and its surrounding lands. She'd have several estates and more money than she could ever spend. She'd be the most sought after woman in London.

Of course, there was the small problem of Nathaniel's mother—he did seem unnecessarily attached to her. But she could remedy that.

Sophia was generous, surely she could spare the dower house to the old crone. She could rusticate there while Sophia attended balls on Nathaniel's arm.

She sighed happily.

Life was just going to get better.

Once she disposed of the companion.

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"You look well, tonight," Nate said to Fiona when she appeared for that evening's entertainments. She was wearing some cream coloured confection with a low bodice and he couldn't help but stare at her. Now that he'd realised that he loved her, it had become harder to resist her allure. He wanted to hide her, to keep her all to himself. He didn't want those other gentlemen to chase her.

"So do you," she smiled faintly and Nate found that his face had heated under the influence of her compliment.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief and sadness—he knew that didn't make sense but that was Fiona. For such a talkative woman, she could also convey all of her emotions with her wide eyes. And he knew her, understood her. He also suspected the reasons for her sorrow. It could either be him or Winston that had caused trouble to her mind.

He wanted to erase that world weary look from her face. He wanted her to smile widely, the way she had when he'd reluctantly agreed to hire her for two weeks. Or when he'd told her that her beloved romance novels had arrived. He was also particularly fond of the expression she'd worn just after he'd kissed her—dazed and surprised.

But he had no right to see those wonderful things, they both knew that.

The Dukedom came first, he reminded himself sternly.

And yet he found himself enquiring after things he had no business enquiring after.
"What have you thought about Winston's proposal?"

"I have asked him for some time...as your mother suggested."

Nate wanted to roar his frustration.