in time for the start of the dinner party or its conclusion. A boy had delivered a note halfway through from Richard explaining they should start and that he’d been unavoidably delayed. He had no idea when he’d return, but he hoped it would be shortly.
She had Myers start serving the food, hoping against hope that each noise outside was Richard returning. But he hadn’t, not even when the clock struck ten.
Everyone offered to stay and wait with her, but she refused them all. The humiliation was far too great.
Henri, as she was leaving, squeezed Sophie’s hand and told her that she always had a place with them.
Lord Hallington muttered about horse whips and how his son ought to know better. He offered to take her straight to Hallington the next morning if she wished.
Sophie kept the tears back until after they had all gone. She had calmly gone through his desk, hoping she’d find a clue as to his whereabouts. She hated herself for doing it, for being the sort of suspicious wife she’d always sworn she’d never be.
She happened on a letter with her name scrawled halfway down, detailing all her faults. Exhibitionist tendencies, overly refined, no taste. The final page was missing as if for some reason Richard had changed his mind about sending the letter to this Marguerite, his confidante.
It was one thing to worry and another thing to see it in black and white. She’d always worried what others thought of her and now she knew what her husband thought. If it had not been for his honour, they would have never married. It was ironic. She had spent the past few years keeping away from men like Richard because of their lack of honour.
She put her head on her arms and cried. Richard had demonstrated what he thought of their marriage and her. She had tried so hard. In spite of the letter, she still cared about him. She wanted to know he was not hurt or in trouble.
‘I’m sorry, Sophie. I will make it up to you. I promise.’
She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway. His eyes were red ringed and tired, his normally pristine clothes mussed as if he’d stripped them off and put them on again. There were blotches which looked like dried tears on his shirt front. She wanted to murder him for scaring her like this. She wanted to scream at him that she wasn’t too fine for her manner or suffering from an overdose of gentility or given to making an exhibition of herself. Or the half-a-dozen other phrases that had been listed.
Sophie stood up and scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Sorry does not even begin to cover it.’
‘Let me hold you.’ He held out his arms and beckoned to her. ‘The thought of holding you has been the only thing which has kept me going through the last few hours.’
‘Really?’ Sophie crossed her arms and moved so that the table was between her and Richard. Her desire for him had been how all this trouble started. If she hadn’t kissed him in the carriage, they would never have married. She’d still have her self-respect and illusions. ‘You have a funny way of showing it. There again, I don’t suppose you truly wanted to be here and see me make a disgrace of myself with an excess of courtesy.’
Sophie picked out one of the more hurtful phrases from the letter and waited for his reaction.
His hand dropped to his side. ‘I brought you something, a token of my affection. And I wanted to be here … to make sure …’
‘To make sure what? That nothing went wrong? That I didn’t disgrace your name?’ Sophie tapped her foot on the ground. Affection? She wanted more than affection. Affection was for pets and mistresses. She was his wife. She had wanted his regard, if not his love. ‘I don’t want anything from you. And I don’t need your help. I managed the dinner party without you. I managed my life without you before we met.’
‘I bought you a necklace.’ He held out a slender box. ‘A necklace of sapphires to wear at the dinner party. You could never disgrace me, Sophie.’
He placed the open box on the table and the jewels winked up at her in the dim light, mocking her.
‘You see, they match your eyes.’
Her stomach twisted. He’d brought her jewels, but he couldn’t be bothered to show up for the dinner party, something which was important to her. She wore his ring, but he treated her like a mistress and a not very important one at that. She had thought he might come to love her and appreciate her social skills.
‘Do you think I am little better than a courtesan? To be bought off with presents? I am your wife, Richard, regardless of who my father was or—’
‘I know who you are, Sophie,’ he said in a deathly still voice. ‘I want to explain. The necklace is an important part of the explanation. When I was at the jewellers, Hannah caught up with me.’
‘Hannah?’ Sophie wanted to throw up. Richard was speaking of a woman she barely knew in intimate terms. ‘Hannah Grayson? The woman I met at the cricket? You know her well enough to call her Hannah?’
She sat down heavily. Her entire world crumbled about her. She had thought Sebastian was bad, but Richard was far worse. Stupid, naïve Sophie for believing Richard could be different. Once a rake, always a rake. First the letter, now this. She should have trusted her head, rather than her heart. She’d stupidly believed that she had enough love for the both of them.
‘Sophie. It is not what you think.’
‘How do you know what I think?’ She stared at the jewels. ‘Do you even care what I think?’
He winced. ‘I do care, Sophie. I care very much. You are my wife. It is why—’
‘It is why what? I found your letter to some Marguerite detailing my faults. How many women are in your life besides me?’
‘Hannah Grayson is my sister, Sophie, and Marguerite is my mother, but I have never written any letter. Why were you looking through my things?’
Sophie put her hand over her mouth. His sister! His mother! Why hadn’t he told her that he had a sister? Why had he hidden it from her? Particularly in the carriage when she had teased him about Hannah Grayson’s brother? ‘You are the brother who enabled the engagement, the one Miss Grayson is so proud of.’
He gave an uneasy laugh. ‘Hannah wasn’t supposed to be there or I’d never have taken you there that day.’
Sophie went cold. He wanted to keep his sister from her. ‘I wasn’t to know? About your sister being in Newcastle? Ever? What was wrong with me?’
‘Can you let me finish? Nothing is wrong with you, Sophie. You were an unasked-for complication in my ordered existence.’
‘An unasked-for complication?’ Sophie put her hands on her hips as outrage poured through her. He made it seem as though she was a burden! ‘I am sorry to make your life more difficult. You didn’t have to marry me. You were the one who insisted because of what happened in the carriage.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I wasn’t planning on meeting you when I came to Newcastle. I came up to vet my sister’s fiancé. My mother worried. I wanted to make sure that Hannah would be looked after properly and I know how men can take advantage of women, particularly when they fail to have adequate settlements. Then I met you and certain events followed.’
The
