‘I see you wasted no time, Aunt, in making your acquaintance with my intended’s family,’ Lord Bingfield said as he came into the room. His frock-coat was immaculate and he seemed to fill the drawing room. She noticed the way his hair curled about his temple and how the cut of his coat showed off his hips. Their eyes locked and a slow smile spread over his face.
Realising she was staring, Sophie hurriedly set down her teacup, managing to slosh the liquid on to her hand. Painfully obvious. The sudden heat jolted her back to reality. She winced, knowing her cheeks must be flushed. She was behaving worse than some débutante who was only a few weeks into her first Season. She was a veteran of four and knew better than to respond to men like Lord Bingfield. She had made so many mistakes in their short acquaintance.
‘Someone had to, dear boy. Your father is hardly likely to travel to the north. And the less said about your mother’s side of the family, the better, in my opinion,’ Lady Parthenope pronounced.
‘Finally you appear, Lord Bingfield. Sophie has been counting the minutes,’ her stepmother cooed, much to Sophie’s surprise and annoyance.
Her stepmother made it sound as though she had nothing better to do than to moon over him. Things were problematic enough with Lord Bingfield getting ideas about how she might feel about him. Her stepmother’s triumphant look did nothing to calm Sophie’s nerves.
‘My pleasure, Mrs Ravel.’ He bowed low over her stepmother’s hand. ‘I regret the slight delay, but what does that matter as I am here now? I am at your disposal, Mrs Ravel. Who would you like me to meet first? Your friends all appear charming and I don’t want to get the order of precedence wrong.’
His smile spread over the entire gathering. Her normally poised stepmother turned a shade of red, highly akin to beetroot, while a gaggle of her stepmother’s friends gave barely concealed sighs. His voice was the sort that warmed your toes, oozing superficial charm.
Sophie frowned and concentrated on the alabaster vase containing a bouquet of wax flowers. She’d be wrong to forget that it was superficial, pretty to look at but having no real substances, and the fact that this was all an act. She knew precisely what happened when the charm faded and the rake in question was turned down.
Her temple throbbed slightly. She refused to go back to that inn. She had ceased to be that carefree girl years ago. Real and honest love took months, if not years, to develop and he had been quite honest about not having finer feelings for her. She was not going to believe in the romance of it all. She had to be the practical one and search for other opportunities to sow seeds of doubt, so that when the end came, it would not cause her stepmother to take to her bed for weeks.
Richard accepted a cup of tea from her stepmother and came over to her. Her nerves pulsed with warmth. She found it impossible to forget the way his mouth had tasted when he’d kissed her last night.
She concentrated on the spill and tried to think of something else beside him and the way his shoulders filled out his frock-coat.
‘Do you need a handkerchief, Miss Ravel?’
His heady scent of balsam mixed with a subtle spice wafted over her, tickling her nose. And she inhaled deeply, savouring it, but then recollected where she was, sat up straighter and fixed him with her eye.
‘Everything is under control. I knocked the cup a little. I am fully capable of cleaning up my own messes.’
‘I would hate to think anything untoward happened to your delicate flesh.’ He came over and took her hand. His brow furrowed as his palm brushed her ring finger before releasing it. A subtle caress. ‘You are wearing the ring.’
Sophie fought against the temptation to flee. He knew precisely what he was doing. He had played this sort of double entendre game with countless other females. It would be wrong of her to think otherwise. ‘I felt it best. Everyone wanted to see it. Even if it is tempting fate to wear it.’
‘Fate?’ A dimple played in the corner of his mouth, reminding her that her dreams had been full of that mouth and the way it tasted.
‘Nothing has been settled until certain agreements have been reached,’ she said decisively, banishing the thought.
He raised her hand to his lips. The tiniest touch, but enough to make her stomach flutter and the heat rise on her cheeks. She tried to tell herself that every woman had that sort of reaction to him, but it didn’t make it any easier.
‘It will be settled to our mutual benefit,’ he said, releasing her hand. ‘You have my word on that. From now on wear it with pride and stop worrying.’
The room chose that moment to fall silent. Sophie winced and knew the colour in her cheeks flamed higher.
‘You see, Sophie,’ her stepmother crowed. ‘What did I say! Settlements can be easily achieved when a couple is in love.’
‘I apologise.’ Sophie gestured about the room. ‘It was quite unnecessary of you to call.’
‘We must disagree. It was completely necessary. I gave my word.’ He inclined his head. ‘If you would manipulate public opinion, Miss Ravel, the public do have to have something to talk about. It is far better that they discuss our engagement, rather than anything else about either of us.’
‘You make it sound like you are an expert.’
His eyes glinted like hard glass. ‘I had to learn. You were the one who increased the stakes.’
‘I will remember it for the next time and bow to your expertise.’
‘You may run along, then,’ he said, touching her sleeve. ‘I still have to greet a variety of other ladies, but my duties here must be short.’
‘And do what?’ Sophie put her hand on her hip. How dare he order her about! ‘The At Home is in its dying throes. I suspect once this lot have finished, we will not get any more callers. My stepmother has the tea and coffee under control.’
‘Grab your hat and cloak, of course. Unless you wish to have more gossip in the papers. I have a new pair of horses and a carriage up from Tattersalls. I want to put them through their paces in the northern air.’
‘Do you drive?’
‘I leave that to others but I do know the difference between a good carriage horse and an unsuitable one.’ A dimple played in the corner of his mouth. ‘Unless you are frightened to be seen with me?’
‘I welcome it.’
Richard stood in the hallway. He struggled to remember when he’d last enjoyed himself so much. Gently tweaking Sophie Ravel’s pretence of cold hauteur so that she was forced to reveal her inner passion was his new favourite sport. He wanted to explore her layers and find out more. He looked forward to it. He could not be sorry that circumstances forced them to spend time with each other.
‘Have you written to your father, Richard, informing him of your proposed alliance?’ his aunt said, coming into the hallway.
‘You are departing so soon, Aunt Parthenope?’
‘One stays precisely fifteen minutes. Always. I know the timing exactly. One should never be seen to regard a clock.’ His aunt sniffed. ‘You are leaving too soon.’
‘I will bear that in mind.’ Richard pointed towards the drawing room. ‘The crush was overly heavy. I’m waiting for Sophie.’
‘The girl is perfectly acceptable if one’s taste is for icy blondes, but the stepmother …’ His aunt lowered her voice. ‘Have you seen the décor? Your father would turn puce. Far too much china. Far too much chintz. Her manner is far too fine.’
‘Mrs Ravel is a perfectly charming lady. Sophie knows her own mind about decoration and fashion, just as she knows her own mind about me.’ Richard forced a smile over a tremor of horror. He did not want to think about his father travelling to Newcastle and the complications that it would bring.
His relationship with Sophie had nothing to do with his family. She belonged to another part of his life, separate and distinct from his duty towards his family.
He had taken the time to move into a well-appointed set of rooms on Granger Street this morning. Luckily, for once, his mother had agreed with his caution, although her reasoning differe
d from his.
‘My father will adore Sophie once he meets her. Does he have plans to travel here?’
‘Who knows what your father will do?’ His aunt made a disapproving noise. ‘He is a law unto himself, but I have every reason to think that he will not set foot in Newcastle. I, myself, have tried to persuade him for years to visit our mother’s grave, but he has always refused. His pigs must come before everything. I swear he uses them as an excuse to avoid doing his duty.’
‘My father is a man of steadfast devotion to his pigs.’
His aunt fixed him with a stare and he had to wonder if she had guessed his true reason for being up in Newcastle. ‘I shall have to write to your father about this fiancée of yours. You understand why it is necessary, I hope. The best that can be said for her stepmother is that she is no conversationalist.’
‘You do that. It will not change the outcome, Aunt.’ Richard nodded towards the stairs. ‘Here comes my intended, Aunt. I would hate to think you had caused her one moment of distress.’
His aunt put her hand over his. ‘Any wife of yours should be a credit to our family and its standing. You must not allow love to cloud your judgement.’
‘We are agreed on that. Love will never do that.’
Richard went towards Sophie, who looked absolutely fetching in her dark-blue leghorn bonnet and matching cloak, truly a breath of fresh air and peace in his turbulent life.
She did not have any side in his parents’ war. He’d learnt a long time ago that explaining about his family only made him feel uncomfortable and awkward rather than contributing anything meaningful. He saw no reason to break the habit with Sophie.
‘Where are these horses?’ Sophie asked with a pretty smile after his aunt departed.
‘Waiting outside. Will you be bringing your maid?’ he enquired, wondering how much further he’d push her today. She would melt.
Sophie hesitated, understanding what he was asking. It would be prudent to have someone else there to prevent things getting out of hand, but it would also mean speaking in front of her. She could hardly explain about the party débâcle with someone listening in.
‘We are an acknowledged couple.’
He tucked her hand into his arm. ‘So I am given to understand. I promise to be on my best behaviour.’
‘My maid hasn’t been with us very long and she has a pile of mending to do.’
‘I understand entirely now. Do you go through servants easily? I only ask because your butler appeared quite new.’
He made it seem as though she was careless. ‘My stepmother does demand the best, but normally I keep my maids unless they marry. My last one ran away with the underfootman from two houses down. Jane has only been with us for two weeks.’
‘And you have no idea if she is reliable,’ he said, handing her into the smart carriage.
‘Precisely.’ Sophie turned towards him. ‘I have no idea if she can be tempted to tell her story to the papers. Such things have been known to happen.’
‘With great regularity.’ The dimple showed in the corner of his mouth. He stretched slightly and his arm came around the back of the seat. Sophie sat straighter.
He gestured to the coachman, who started off abruptly and she was jolted back against the seat and his arm, which instantly tightened about her. She gave him a sideways glance, certain he had arranged the incident. His hand squeezed her shoulder, sending a warm pulse through her before he removed it.
‘I’m pleased with your foresight,’ he said. ‘What did you want to speak to me about? What has agitated you? You were positively clinging to that teacup with a death grip.’
Sophie gulped. He had noticed! It made it worse that he’d noticed. She could almost think he cared. She pulled her bonnet forwards so that it covered her face. ‘Was I that obvious?’
‘Only to me. My aunt takes unholy glee in making people agitated and upset. It provides her chief amusement.’ He put his hand over hers and squeezed it. ‘You appeared perfectly in control to everyone else, I am sure.’
Sophie swallowed hard and withdrew her hand from his. She concentrated on looking out the carriage window. Every time they met, she found a reason to like him more. He said precisely the right thing to reassure her, but how hard was that? Men like him did these things for one purpose only—seduction.
‘I need to apologise for my stepmother and her engagement-party scheme,’ she said before she lost her nerve or he developed the wrong idea about why she’d agreed to come without a chaperon. ‘She had the idea fixated in her brain. I had no idea she entertained the notion … until it was too late.’
‘And you haven’t told her the truth.’
‘How could I!’ Sophie turned slightly and faced him. He had to understand about her stepmother and her kind heart. ‘I planned to say something this morning, but my stepmother was preoccupied with the At Home arrangements. I want to let her down gently, Richard. My stepmother means well. She made this promise to my father on his deathbed … and she sees this as a gold opportunity to fulfil it. My father … my father made his own fortune. He wanted his daughter to live like a princess.’
Richard said nothing for a while and Sophie listened to the wheels of the carriage turning, hating that she’d confessed about her father’s naked ambition.
‘My aunt has obviously written to my father,’ he said when her nerves were at breaking point. ‘We will have to instruct our various men of business to begin drawing up the settlement.’
Sophie blinked hard. ‘Excuse me?’
‘During the At Home, you made some remarks about settlements.’
Sophie fiddled with the lace edge of her glove, rather than meet his eyes. Her posturing at the At Home seemed ill conceived now that he was here, questioning her on it. ‘I thought it a kinder way of sowing doubt. I don’t want my stepmother to be too disappointed … when it ends.’
He raised an eyebrow and Sophie knew what he had tactfully not said. The only way she could keep her stepmother from being disappointed now was to actually marry him. She wished she had considered her stepmother’s reaction before embarking on this adventure.
‘You are reluctant to tell your stepmother the truth, particularly in light of her extreme reaction.’
She gave a hesitant nod.
‘Then there is only one course of action. You must instruct your man of business straight away. The matter of settlement must be seen to be being addressed. I shall instruct my solicitors.’ He named a very well-known London firm. ‘My father always uses them. He would think something amiss if I didn’t. I will trust you to make the appropriate outrageous demands.’
She stared at him in wonderment. He actually had the perfect solution to the problem, one she’d never ask, assuming he’d reject it out of hand. She swallowed hard and attempted to puzzle out the implications. ‘You intend to keep your father in ignorance as well?’
‘You would hardly want him replying to your stepmother when she writes to him.’ He paused and gave her a hard look. ‘And you know your stepmother will … if the letter isn’t already in the post. My father is not a man to mince words, Sophie. Neither will he see any reason to lie.’
Sophie closed her eyes. She could readily picture the scene when her stepmother received a terse reply from Richard’s father. The blow would destroy her. Utterly and completely. ‘It is very kind of you. Unexpectedly kind.’
He raised her hand to his lips. ‘I told you that I’d protect you. Why do you harbour so many doubts about my intentions?’
‘Because I do.’
Sophie sat up straighter and tried to ignore the way the warmth crept up her arm. Somehow it felt right to have his hand holding hers. And that was very wrong. No good could come of this carriage ride if she allowed liberties.
‘I will instruct my solicitor.’ She concentrated on taking steadying breaths as the warm tingling feeling increased. It was in moments like these that a woman was most in danger. If she kept her wits about her, she’d survive. She gave her hand
a slight tug, but only succeeded in dislodging her bonnet. ‘My old guardian is out of the country with his family and will need to look it over before it is approved, of course. My stepmother will understand the delay. It will buy us time.’
‘Who was it?’ he enquired softly, not letting her hand go. Instead he put his other arm along the back of the seat, almost as if he held her in his arms.
‘Who was who?’ Sophie edged towards the carriage door.
He released her and leant forwards to straighten her bonnet. ‘Who made you so wary of men? Of me?’
Chapter Seven
‘You are talking nonsense. Absolute and complete nonsense.’ Sophie searched for her reticule and wished she had thought to bring more than a hatpin with her as Richard’s question echoed round and round in her brain. He wanted to know why she was terrified of men. It wasn’t all men. It was men who were unsafe in carriages.
The carriage suddenly seemed claustrophobic and tiny, and a complete mistake. How could she have thought for one instant she’d be safe with someone like Richard?
Sophie struggled to breathe. The last thing she wanted was to confess about that dreadful night, particularly here in Richard’s carriage. The consequences to her reputation could be dreadful if he realised the sort of person she truly was. All the vile words Sebastian called her on that night echoed in her mind.
What if she was truly like those words? What if it wasn’t the man, but her? What if she caused men to be unsafe in carriages?
‘I have no idea why you said this! I am not wary of men.’
Richard said nothing in reply. He simply looked at her with a steady expression in his eyes. ‘Why, Sophie?’
Suddenly it came to her—the logical answer, the perfect answer. Air rushed into her lungs. There was no need for a confession. He need never know what sort of person she was underneath her cold exterior. Bluster and outrage had always served before. She could turn the conversation to his failings.
An Ideal Husband? Page 10
