is going on here?’ a loud overbearing masculine voice thundered at the back of the church. ‘Richard, I went to your rooms and they said you were at church. Is this harum-scarum affair your wedding? And this woman—is she the common chit your aunt wrote me about?’
Sophie halted. She looked up at Richard, whose face had gone thunderous before becoming a mask of urbanity.
‘The Bishop finished not a moment too soon,’ Richard murmured. His hand tightened on Sophie’s elbow. ‘My father has arrived and is his usual charming self. Shall we go and greet him before he bellows the church down?’
‘Did you know he was coming to Newcastle?’ Sophie whispered, an uneasy feeling creeping up the back of her neck. Richard had known his father wouldn’t approve of the match.
‘I knew he had plans to travel to Newcastle. I didn’t know when he’d arrive.’
Sophie stared at her new husband. He had deliberately kept his father’s imminent arrival from her. What else had he hidden from her? ‘You should have said.’
‘What, and risk giving you or your stepmother a chance to delay the proceedings?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Not likely. You are hard won, Sophie. I want my prize. I want you in my bed and this is the only way I could get you there.’
Hard won. Her heart did a little leap, but a niggling doubt filled her. Did he think his father would object to her, was that why he’d rushed the marriage? He had given her a choice, hadn’t he? ‘But your father …’
He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, ‘Remember you are my wife, Sophie. There is nothing my father or anyone else can do about it. You are Lady Bingfield now. You are my chosen bride. It matters not a jot what my aunt or indeed my father thinks of you. It only matters what I think.’
Sophie bit her lip. Richard made it sound as though she was somehow likely to be found wanting by Lord Hallington. Her pedigree might not be top drawer, but she was hardly a pauper. Her father had wanted her to marry into the aristocracy. She had had the right sort of education. She wasn’t some governess or vicar’s daughter, but … All the memories of feeling inadequate and that people were whispering behind their hands at her during her first Season came flooding back.
She regarded the red-faced Lord Hallington. Despite his high colour, she could see the family resemblance. She would have known that he was Richard’s father anywhere. They shared the same facial structure and their eyes were the same colour. She tried to breathe. This was not how she had envisioned spending her first few moments of married life, confronting an irate father-in-law and trying to convince him that she was the proper person to marry his son, when she knew she had behaved very improperly. She knew the true reason for the haste.
‘Meet your new daughter, Father,’ Richard said, putting his hand about Sophie’s waist as his gaze warred with his father’s. Lord Hallington was the first to look away, defeated.
‘You have married the chit!’ he growled. ‘Do you know what your aunt wrote about her and her family? Parthenope did not mince her words. Do you know how her father made his money? How he got his start?’
‘Hardly a chit, Father, Sophie is my bride. Be civil,’ Richard said, giving his father a hard look. He could happily murder his aunt. ‘I have no idea what sort of report my aunt wrote, but I assure you that Sophie is my choice. I am the one who married her. My aunt had nothing to do with it. The sort of woman she approves of leaves me cold. As Sophie’s father died years ago and I never met him, I can offer no opinion on his manners, but I’ve been increasingly impressed with Sophie’s gentility and civility. Her stepmother is one of the kindest souls I have ever met.’
His father’s frown increased. ‘You would say that!’
‘Sophie is now Lady Bingfield and my wife. She shares my status. I married her because I wanted to. I was determined to have her.’
‘Just as you were determined to have that other chit, the one who died, the one who had you sent down from Oxford. Marry in haste, repent at leisure as my dear mother used to say.’
Sophie went cold. She’d known Richard had been sent down from Oxford, but he’d never said about wanting to marry anyone. How many other things had Richard kept from her? How well did she really know her husband?
‘I see little point in bringing up ancient history, Father, and as I only received your letter after I made the appointment with the Bishop, your assumption is incorrect.’
His father spluttered something incoherent.
‘If you wish to cause mischief, you may leave,’ Richard continued. ‘Now, you may begin again and give my bride proper congratulations or you turn around and go. I do not care which.’
He waited, barely clinging on to his temper. His father should know better. The last thing he wanted was to have a fight with his father on his wedding day, but he would protect Sophie.
His father’s shoulders sagged and he appeared to age, but his face remained an unnaturally red colour. Richard braced himself for the next onslaught. Silently he thanked his guardian angel that his mother and sister were not here. When his father was in these moods, there was no reasoning with him. It was only after the colour receded that some semblance of normality returned. His father always regretted his actions, but that was not the point.
‘Welcome to the family, Sophie,’ his father said, holding out his hand. ‘You must forgive my rough speaking. Lately I have been spending much of my time in the company of pig keepers.’
‘My father’s passion is pig-breeding,’ Richard explained between gritted teeth. His father’s bad grace was clearly evident with the way his mouth curled. He had to hope that neither Sophie nor her stepmother had noticed the rudeness. ‘It is why he rarely travels far from Hallington. It rules him.’
‘That is not true, Richard,’ his father protested. ‘I went to the Great Exhibition last year in London. I wanted to see the improvements in pig farming that the Americans had. Excellent farmers, those Americans. They truly know their pigs.’
‘Did you see anything else?’ Richard enquired. ‘Be honest, Father.’
His father puffed up his chest. ‘There wasn’t time. I had to get back to my pigs. Your aunts wanted me to attend some ball. I hate balls.’
‘I am not personally acquainted with any pigs,’ Sophie said slowly. ‘Therefore, I have much to learn. Hopefully we can have a good conversation about pigs later. I am sure they are very fascinating creatures. And sometimes I am sure they are better and more honest company than some in society.’
The red receded from his father’s face and Richard knew Sophie had said precisely the right thing. His father always calmed down when he spoke of his pigs. To him, the pigs were the most important thing in the world.
‘My dear, they are completely fascinating. Far more intelligent than most people.’
‘You must come to the wedding breakfast, Lord Hallington,’ Sophie said with a very pretty curtsy. Richard silently blessed her for being understanding. He was hard pressed to think of anyone else who could handle the situation so well.
His father raised an imperious eyebrow and looked at Richard with a disdainful expression. ‘Am I invited to my only son’s wedding breakfast?’
Richard’s
