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?’
‘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.
‘Why shouldn’t I exercise caution? Everyone knows about men who are not safe in carriages and the untold damage they can wreak on a woman’s reputation. She might never recover while the man simply moves on to the next unsuspecting soul.’ Sophie stabbed a finger at his chest. ‘You, Richard, are most definitely not safe in carriages. Had the desire to protect my stepmother’s feelings not preyed on my mind, I would have refused. I should have refused. We have settled very little and now I wish to return to my home. Immediately.’
Sophie hated the tremor in her voice and that she wanted him to do something to prove once and for all that he was the sort of man she knew he must be.
‘You want to believe the worst in me.’ Richard’s golden gaze peered into her soul, but he kept completely still. ‘What have I done? How have I behaved improperly towards you? All I have done is to try to preserve your reputation, rather than seek to destroy it or entice you into bad behaviour.’
Sophie straightened her shoulders and forced an uneasy laugh. ‘You have a certain well-deserved reputation. Your exploits are favourite fodder for the scandal-mongers. There is little smoke without fire, as my father used to say. Oh, you might say it is lies, but how much is half the truth?’
‘I have never denied my less-than-angelic past, but it is more than that.’ He ticked the points off on his fingers. ‘You are skittish. You maintain this façade of icy hauteur because you are terrified of any man paying you attention. When you forget, you are full of feisty wit. Someone made you that way. What was his name? You owe it to me for saving your reputation.’
Sophie’s mouth went dry. He had guessed. Richard had seen her for what she was—petrified of becoming what Sebastian Cawburn predicted she was. She should have thought. Crawford had a vast amount of experience with women. He had saved her from Sir Vincent’s machinations. She owed him the truth.
‘Sebastian Cawburn. Lord Cawburn,’ she whispered, staring
