An Ideal Husband? (5 page)

His brows knitted together and he seemed genuinely perplexed. ‘A false engagement? One is either engaged to be married or one is not, Miss Ravel. I don’t deal in fakes and deceptions
of that nature. Attempting to cozen society is fraught with difficulty.’

‘It is in the novels my stepmother likes to read. They are all the rage.’ Sophie gave him a breezy assurance, but her insides twisted. He made it seem as though she dealt in deception regularly. She didn’t. Sometimes it was easier to give an impression of a certain behaviour for the greater good, that was all. ‘We don’t actually have to marry. Once the furore has died down and Putney is unmasked or quits the neighbourhood, we can part…amicably. Legitimate engagements are ended for all sorts of reasons.’

‘I meant a marriage if it came to it. I knew the risks when I asked. And if you had refused, I would have told the various journalists that my heart was broken by the redoubtable Miss Ravel.’ He inclined his head. ‘I will not pretend instant undying love. I have seen enough of love to know it leads two people who are wholly unsuited to each other to do stupid things. Love has little place in marriage. We might have suited if you had desired it.’

‘We obviously have different views on the subject. I would never have such a cold-blooded thing as an arranged marriage. A happy marriage needs a firm foundation of love.’

A half-smile flickered across his face. ‘Despite
your formidable reputation, Miss Ravel, you are a secret romantic. Love only complicates things and makes people profoundly unhappy in my experience.’

‘I demand certain standards from any prospective bridegroom.’ Sophie drew herself up to her full height. ‘Standards which you sadly lack.’

‘However, I will consider your wish of a fake engagement and evaluate the risks. We might be able to play Sir Vincent at his own game.’

His mouth twisted as he spat the word fake. Deep-seated anger at the injustice of the whole situation flooded through her. She was trapped in a situation not of her making and had found the perfect solution if only he’d agree. She was being honest and forthright, whereas if she’d accepted his offer he would have found a way to make her jilt him. And his idea of telling the press she’d rejected him would make them more interested in her, rather than less.

‘Consider!’ Sophie put her hands on her hips. ‘It is the perfect solution. Surely you must see it. There will be no need for further scandal. We will quietly part at the end. There will be no hurt feelings or accusations as we both know from the outset that the marriage will never happen. Honesty on both our parts from the start.’

‘You know nothing about me!’

Sophie crossed her arms. He was like any other rake, solely interested in himself. ‘I know enough.’

‘I had not considered a limited engagement, but it would serve the same purpose, I suppose.’ He gave a long sigh. ‘My father will be disappointed when the longed-for engagement ends, but he generally is with me these days.’

‘You are a fortune hunter. It was why your aunt was so pleased to see you with me.’

Sophie backed away from the window. Her stomach knotted. She should have guessed. And she had handed him the perfect opportunity. Just once she wanted to be wanted for herself rather than for the fortune her father had amassed. The walls seemed to close in on her and she wished her corset wasn’t as tight. Here when she walked into the drawing room, she’d been so pleased with the way the slenderness of her waist contrasted with her new crinoline. It was always the way—either look good or be able to breathe. Next time she’d remember that breathing was important when dealing with people like Lord Bingfield, particularly Lord Bingfield.

‘Miss Ravel, jumping to conclusions is never good.’ His ice-cold voice filled the room and cut through her panic. ‘My fortune is quite secure. The estate is well funded thanks to my mother’s
dowry and eventually it will be mine. My father cannot change that. Do you wish to see the accounts? He merely wishes me to marry and provide an heir.’

Sophie pinched the top of her nose. She could hardly confess about her past mistake with Sebastian. Just thinking about that made her feel unclean. ‘I have met fortune hunters in the past. They are a known hazard for heiresses. One has to be cautious. You can be left without any fortune at all.’

‘So I understand.’ His mouth twisted. ‘There are ways to protect women if one acts before marriage. You must take your time and get the right settlement. It saves heartache, as my mother found out to her cost.’

‘Your mother is still alive?’

‘My parents are divorced. The settlement was not in her favour. They were in a unique situation, as I am sure you are aware. It was all in the papers at the time. My mother was for ever banished from polite society.’

Sophie hung her head. She had done it again—jumping to a conclusion when the truth was precisely the opposite. It made sense now why he had acted so quickly to protect her. ‘I didn’t know. I have no idea who your parents are.’

‘Truly?’ He raised an eyebrow and his features
seemed carved from stone. ‘You surprise me, Miss Ravel. My parents’ divorce was the subject of great scandal. The account of the crim. con. trial went into several editions. A best seller, or so Putney informed me when we were at Eton.’

‘It happened a long time ago. The world moves on,’ Sophie replied evenly. Her stomach clenched and she knew that she had to get this right. If she said the wrong words, he could decide not to help her. ‘Scandal is not branded on people’s foreheads. A person’s true character is of far more relevance than any perceived scandal.’

‘Other people may beg to differ. Ever since I was at Eton, the press have been interested in my doings. First because of my parents and then …’

She fixed him with her eye. It was obvious the sort of reputation he must have. He probably made Sebastian Cawburn look like an angelic choirboy. ‘Because you decided to give them what they wanted.’

‘I was determined to live my life as I pleased rather than looking over my shoulder for their approval. They have printed lies in the past and continue to twist my life so they can sell more papers. Once I had my head around that fact, I found it much easier to accept. Regardless of
what the papers might say, there are certain lines I do not cross. Once I make a vow, I do my utmost to keep it. You must remember that, Miss Ravel.’

‘I am not interested in other people’s opinions and I am interested in how a person behaves.’

A light flared in his eyes. ‘You are a unique individual, Miss Ravel.’

‘I like to think so. Do you agree to my scheme?’ Sophie held out her hand and willed him to take it, sealing their pact. ‘Once I jilt you, you can nurse a broken heart for ages. The papers will be sympathetic. Your father will have to give you time to grieve. We are simply being honest with each other at the start, rather than playing games. Neither of us will get hurt. We have much to gain.’

He gathered her hands in his and she noticed how good it felt to touch him. Her body went rigid. She did not have to act on the attraction. Desire burnt itself out quickly. Desire was not the same as lasting love. ‘We could have made a great team, Miss Ravel.’

‘Sophie!’ Her stepmother’s outraged tones came from the open door. ‘What is going on here? You are holding hands with a strange man! Where has your sense of propriety gone, my girl?’

Sophie slipped her hands from Lord Bingfield’s. Her stepmother would have to choose this moment to come into the drawing room. Nothing had been settled. ‘Going on, Stepmother? Everything is utterly innocent.’

‘Hornswoggle! I have seen that look in your eye before, young lady. You had better not think to twist me around your little finger.’

‘Allow me to introduce myself, Richard Crawford, Viscount Bingfield. My father is the Marquess of Hallington, Mrs Ravel.’ Lord Bingfield recaptured her hand. Sophie gave a little tug, but he didn’t let go. ‘Your stepdaughter has done me the honour of becoming my fiancée in light of the news reported in today’s papers.’

Sophie struggled to fill her lungs. He had done it, despite his misgivings. They were embarked on the deception.

‘Sophie!’ Her stepmother went white and then red.

‘You had best sit down, Stepmother.’ Sophie let go of Lord Bingfield’s hand and led her stepmother to the pink-damask sofa. ‘You have had a shock.’

‘Then it is true, my dear child? Not some nonsense?’ Her stepmother fumbled for her reticule and her smelling salts. ‘You are going to marry
this stranger? You could have told me that was the reason why you needed to meet him alone.’

‘I had no idea he would offer, Stepmother.’ Sophie took the reticule, retrieved the vial and waved it under her stepmother’s nose. ‘I didn’t want to get your hopes up. An engagement is the best solution in the circumstances. The gutter press appear determined that we court.’

‘I regret that subterfuge was necessary, but we didn’t wish for the press to become interested with regards to your stepdaughter’s innocence.’ Lord Bingfield bowed his head. ‘Alas …’

‘I completely understand,’ her stepmother said, her face alight with eagerness. ‘The press must be such a bother for you, dogging your footsteps. You seem to be a great favourite of theirs.’

‘Most of the stories they print about me have no bearing on reality, my dear Mrs Ravel. I do have my code of honour.’

Her stepmother gave a long sigh.

Sophie rolled her eyes. A few well-chosen words and her stepmother melted. She regretted the necessity of keeping her stepmother ignorant of the true arrangement, but her stepmother had never been able to keep a secret. And it was necessary to stop Sir Vincent once and for all
time. But the sooner this deception was over, the better.

‘I had never considered what the people in the scandal sheets must feel and how cautious they have to be.’

‘You read the scandal sheets?’

Her stepmother put her hand to the side of her mouth and leant forwards. ‘Sophie disapproves.’

‘Does she?’

‘What a truly noble thing you have done. They were all wrong about you and how you break women’s hearts. I never believed the story about you, that Russian countess and her husband, the one who committed suicide rather than compete with you.’

‘I am grateful.’ Lord Bingfield inclined his head. ‘The situation was not how the press portrayed it. I met the countess after her husband died, and introduced her to her new husband. We remain friends.’

Sophie stared at him. Precisely how much of a favourite with the gutter press was he?

‘Lord Bingfield, you must partake of some tea or perhaps something stronger.’ Her stepmother straightened her cap. ‘I know how fond you gentlemen are of something a little more potent. I am dying to learn the truth behind some of the latest scandals.’

Sophie attempted to signal over her stepmother’s head, but Lord Bingfield simply gave a superior smile. ‘I would be delighted to spend time with you, Mrs Ravel, but I never discuss the latest tittle-tattle for obvious reasons.’

‘I shall leave you two now,’ her stepmother said at the end of a very long cup of tea. ‘Sophie has been glowering at me ever since the teapot arrived. I, too, remember what it is like to be young. I am so pleased you decided to do the decent thing, Lord Bingfield. I do worry about Sophie. Her future happiness has been a source of sleepless nights and now it is all settled. The late Mr Ravel must be beaming down from heaven. His Sophie will be a marchioness. He’d never thought his daughter would climb so high, but I knew she would.’

‘I am sure he is, Mrs Ravel.’

Her stepmother turned a bright pink and hurried off. Lord Bingfield closed the door firmly behind her. He loomed larger than ever. Sophie retreated a step.

‘The die is cast and the deception has begun,’ she said, adopting an ice-cold tone. ‘There was no need to close the door. We can take our leave in full view of any passing servant.’

‘There is every need.’ The gold in his eyes
deepened. ‘I want to know why you believe you have only your fortune to offer in a marriage.’

‘What I have to offer is none of your business!’ Sophie crossed her arms. Her stomach tightened. In suggesting the false engagement, she’d just given Lord Bingfield an iron-clad opportunity for a seduction! She’d simply have to insist that certain boundaries weren’t crossed. ‘I was merely seeking to understand why you were insistent we have a real engagement. You have no regard for me.’

He took a step closer. ‘Are you saying that you are indifferent to me?’

‘Yes.’ Sophie stuck her chin in the air. ‘Yes, definitely.’

‘Liar.’

She went still. Her heart raced and her mouth became parched. She wet her lips. ‘I do not make a habit of lying, Lord Bingfield.’

‘Richard.’ He reached her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I am your fiancé now. You need to think of me as your true betrothed or Putney will create an even bigger scandal. Remember that. This might help you. Think of it as an
aide-mémoire
.’

She was aware of him in the same heart-thumping way she’d been aware of him the night before. She concentrated on the chintz curtains
behind his left shoulder, rather than on his mouth. ‘What are you intending on doing?’

‘Demonstrating … Sophie.’

Her name sounded like a soft caress, sliding over her jangled nerves and soothing her. A warm pulse went down her spine. No one had ever used her name in quite that fashion before.

His hand tilted her chin so she looked into his eyes of pure gold.

She had only time to blink before his mouth descended, slowly, like a tiny fluttering of a breeze and then increasing intensity. Sophie told herself that she should keep her body still or scream. She should do something besides enjoying the kiss, but she discovered she was powerless to do anything else.

She closed her eyes, savoured the sensation and swayed towards him.

He let her go and stepped back. ‘Point proved … Sophie.’

This time her name was anything but a caress. Her cheeks grew hot and she rubbed her aching lips furiously. ‘It proves nothing except you, like any self-respecting rake, know how to kiss.’

He picked up his hat. ‘I will pick you up tonight.’