gave a slight cough and adopted a pious expression. ‘People will speculate and I was unable to resist confirming what I knew. Unlike some, the press trust me.’
Sophie rolled her eyes heavenwards and struggled to keep her temper. ‘Will the press speculate? That does surprise me no end. Gossip is endemic in Newcastle and always has been, Sir Vincent. It is such a shame when it proves to be false or people spread malicious rumours. It is amazing how quickly the gutter press can turn on one of their trusted sources.’
‘Your friend’s parents inform me that their daughter was caught on the road to Edinburgh and they hope hourly for her safe return.’ He blew on his nails. ‘But I have gone against the idea. Who wants an unwilling bride? Perhaps one of their other daughters will suit.’
Sophie gulped hard. ‘You mean to have one of Cynthia’s sisters?’
‘Yes, one of them might be suitable as Lady Putney. There again, they all might bear the taint of their eldest sister’s conduct. What a pity you assisted in ruining another person’s life. Possibly several young persons’ lives. You must seriously reflect on your behaviour, Miss Ravel. Someone must stop you before you ruin anyone else’s life.’
Sophie’s stomach clenched. It was a deliberate lie. She had received Cynthia’s postcard in the second post. The couple had made it to Carlisle without mishap. She would not put it past Mr Johnson to offer one of his other daughters, but she doubted that he would enforce it, not after Cynthia had made her dramatic bid for freedom. Mr and Mrs Johnson did love their children.
‘Do you enjoy theatricals, Sir Vincent?’ Sophie asked, making sure her voice flowed like honey. Her insides churned, but she refused to give way to panic. Somewhere in that crowded ballroom was Richard Crawford and he had behaved perfectly correctly. He refused to be used by this man. The thought gave her confidence. ‘Plays and the like?’
‘Not overly.’ He gave a smug smile. ‘Sometimes the actresses are worth watching, but I only go to the theatre to be seen. The true spectacle happens in the stalls.’
‘A pity. You would have made the exact prototype of a pantomime villain.’ Sophie clenched her fan tighter and sought to control her temper. This time she would walk away and not lose her head or panic. She would find Richard and demand they carry their engagement a step further—only an announcement in the papers would end the speculation.
Even Sir Vincent in his arrogance must know where that particular line of polite society was drawn. Sophie’s head spun. That was it. She had to find a way of getting him to cross that line in full view of everyone. Expose him and his pathetic attempts at blackmail. And she had to do it now.
Behind Sir Vincent, she could see the crowds of people standing on the edge of the ballroom. A few steps into the room and this conversation would be overheard. Sophie’s stomach clenched. She didn’t have time to wait for Richard to appear. Long ago, she’d given up on any errant knights coming to her rescue. She would have to execute the entire operation herself.
Sophie judged the distance. Too much in the open and he’d never react. Too far into the balcony and no one would hear or react. It had to be just right. Without giving herself time to think, she edged towards the ballroom.
‘You dare to insult me!’ Sir Vincent took a step towards her, blocking her exit and obviously intent on forcing her more fully on to the balcony.
‘Why would I do that?’ Sophie’s mind raced and she attempted to remember the way he had lost his temper last night. She ducked under his arm. ‘Could it be because you are a pompous fool? Why would anyone in their right mind wish to be married to someone like you? I know Cynthia’s younger sisters and they feel exactly the same way about you. They think you a pompous braying fool.’
She was out from behind the curtain now. The ballroom teemed with people and music. Everyone had their back to her and her personal duel with Sir Vincent.
Richard was nowhere to be seen. She was truly on her own. Silently she prayed that she had done enough. Her heart thudded in her ears.
‘No one calls me that!’ Sir Vincent parted the curtain and emerged red-faced and spitting with anger.
‘I just have! Now I must bid you adieu, Sir Vincent.’ She made a curtsy which bordered on the insulting. ‘Pray remember I am not some snivelling scullery maid or a naïve débutante. I do have friends, so stay out of my way. Do not attempt to blacken my name again!’
He reached out and grabbed her arm. ‘We are finished when I say we are.’
‘Unhand me!’
‘Not until we have finished our discussion.’ He started to drag her back towards the balcony.
‘Someone help me. Please.’
A fist connected with Sir Vincent’s jaw and he staggered backwards against the heavy curtain and fell down. The curtain tumbled with a loud thud and rip which resounded through the room.
‘You have insulted Miss Ravel for the last time, Putney.’ Richard’s voice held none of its usual warmth.
He had arrived! Precisely at the right moment. Sophie’s heart did a little flip.
Richard towered over Sir Vincent. ‘When a lady asks you to let go, you do so. I demand an apology!’
‘What right do you have to intervene?’ Sir Vincent rose to his feet and adopted a pugilist’s stance. ‘Hit me again and see if I am slow to respond. Fight like a gentleman, Bingfield.’
Richard’s voice held a note of barely controlled fury. ‘I claim the right of any gentleman to act when a lady is accosted.’
‘We were merely conversing. I demand satisfaction. You have impugned my character for the last time, Bingfield.’
‘I can see the marks of your hand on her elbow, Putney. I heard Miss Ravel beg for help. I suspect the vast majority of the gathering heard her plea. What man among you would fail to assist a woman in need? Are you a molester of women, Putney? Is that the reputation you seek to defend?’
Sir Vincent went a violent colour of puce and foam speckled his mouth.
Sophie saw a crowd had gathered around them and the orchestra had stopped playing. In the silence, she made sure her voice could carry. ‘Sir Vincent threatened me and grabbed hold of my arm. He refused to let go. I feared for my person and my reputation. Lord Bingfield rescued me.’
‘I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation,’ an elderly lady piped up. ‘That gentleman grabbed hold of the lady in a most unbecoming manner.’
‘That’s precisely right,’ said a well-upholstered man. ‘This gentleman acted bravely in rescuing the lady.’
Various other people in the crowd murmured their agreement. Sir Vincent stood there with an increasingly panic-stricken look on his face.
Sophie pointed towards the large double doors on the other side of the ballroom. ‘Depart, Sir Vincent, and reflect on your behaviour. It falls far short of what civilised society requires.’
A small round of applause rippled throughout the room.
Sir Vincent glanced over his shoulder and slowly lowered his fists. ‘I will remember this, Bingfield.’
Sophie
