on the bed so that she straddled him. His hands reached up and cupped her breasts. His thumb slowly rubbed her nipple, making it become a hardened point. Sophie gasped. He bucked upwards and his arousal teased her.
‘What are you wearing under this robe?’
‘Nothing,’ Sophie admitted. ‘I wanted to see how it would be for painting.’
‘A novel approach—having the artist undressed and the model clothed.’
‘I can be unconventional as well as conventional.’ She brushed her lips against his mouth.
‘Have I ever complained, Sophie?’ He caught her face between his hands.
Sophie bit her lip. He had not complained, but she felt him slipping away from her.
Rather than answering him, she concentrated on the next stage. Her hands went to his trousers and undid them, allowing his erection to spring free. Without waiting, Sophie opened her legs wider and positioned herself. She moved her hips back and forth, feeling the engorged tip of him rub her as the ache grew within her and then, very slowly, she lowered herself down on him, calling the rhythm for once.
Much later, Richard lay with a sleeping Sophie curled beside him. With a gentle hand, he smoothed a lock of blonde hair from her face.
Sophie had the unerring knack of knowing what he needed without him even having to tell her. With her curled into his side, he could almost allow himself the luxury of believing that he could protect her and keep her safe. That he would have chosen this marriage if she knew everything about him.
He watched her stir and realised his feelings for her had grown, rather than diminished. But the only reason she was in his bed and his life was that he’d used her desire for virtue. Sometimes it felt as though he was waiting for the whole house of cards to fall.
‘Mmmm,’ she murmured, giving a stretch. ‘That was pleasant.’
‘Pleasant?’
‘Wonderful. It may take me an awfully long time to get that particular portrait done.’
‘I’m happy to pose whenever you like.’ Richard sobered. ‘You said my father has set a date for leaving.’
‘A week on Monday. He has booked his train ticket.’ Sophie raised herself up on her elbow. ‘We are going to give a dinner party, Richard, on the Sunday. For your father, my stepmother, Robert and Henri. I have sent the invitations. I was sure you wouldn’t mind. Robert and Henri arrive back two days before your father leaves. It seemed opportune. My stepmother and your father agreed readily.’
Richard went cold. He wasn’t ready to meet Sophie’s former guardian and his wife. He wanted to have more time to bind Sophie to him, rather than encountering the two people who would find fault with him. ‘Shouldn’t you have asked me before you sought assurance from my father and your stepmother?’
Her nose wrinkled. ‘The letter from Henri arrived while your father was at my stepmother’s. It seemed like too happy of a coincidence not to organise a dinner party. I am sure my stepmother will be happy to host the party if you don’t feel we have room here.’
Richard ran his hands through his hair. Dinner parties with his father were to be endured, particularly when his father decided he could comment on the food with impunity. He could see the disaster unfolding before his eyes. His father behaving badly, Sophie in tears and these friends of Sophie’s judging him. He shuddered. ‘Sophie, a word of advice—if you want something big, ask a man before you ask his father.’
‘I did mention giving a dinner party for Henri and Robert this morning.’
‘You did?’ Richard searched his memory. This morning he had been distracted by his mother’s latest note about her finances and her request to see him immediately. ‘The only thing you asked me about was another new dress. You always look well turned out, Sophie, and you are spending your own money.’
‘Before that. The dress is for the dinner party.’
Richard rubbed his eye. The dull ache in his head returned. ‘I don’t recall, but I believe you.’
‘Then it is a no.’ Her lips turned down. ‘I’d hoped.’
He flopped back against the pillows. It was wrong of him. He wanted to keep what passed between Sophie and him private. This was their kingdom. Dinner parties and At Homes belonged to a life after they returned from the wedding trip, when he could be sure of her. But Sophie was right. His father needed a proper send off. He could endure the Montemorcys, knowing that once his father was gone, he would have Sophie to himself for weeks on end and no family to bother him.
He turned over on top of Sophie and caught her wrists, putting them above her head. ‘You wrong me.’ He nipped her chin. ‘It is a yes. Have your dinner party. Buy your gown.’
She kissed him back. Enthusiastically. ‘I knew you’d understand.’
‘Is everything under control?’ Richard asked on the morning of the dinner party.
Sophie looked up from measuring the place settings. ‘Everything is fine. I have borrowed my stepmother’s cook and the menu is all agreed. Jane and Myers are dealing with the flowers.’
‘Why the ruler?’
‘A trick Henri taught me.’ She set the ruler down. Since the afternoon she had started painting Richard, something had changed between them. She had to hope that he understood how important it was that this dinner party went smoothly. She wanted to demonstrate to Robert and her stepmother that she was now an adult. Her dinner party would positively radiate virtue. They would see that despite the hastiness of the marriage, she was happy. And she was happy … most of the time.
‘Surely Myers can do that.’
‘It is best to do things myself if I want perfection.’
‘Perfection isn’t always possible.’
‘With planning it can be achieved.’ She nodded towards where two long red candles stood in brass candlesticks. ‘I love how the red and the brass go together. Candlelight is far more pleasant for a party of this nature than gas.’
‘I shall leave you to the last-minute preparations, then, as you have things well in hand.’ He picked up his hat and gloves.
‘Are you going out? The party is going to start in a few hours. I thought … I thought you might want to go over the choices for port.’
‘There are a few things I need to complete before we go on our wedding trip. They shouldn’t take long. Myers can solve any question with the wine. It is one of the reasons I hired him as my valet.’
Sophie pasted on a fake smile. It was there again, that withdrawing. Her stepmother had warned her—men don’t like to hear about domestic bother. ‘Of course, how foolish of me not to have thought Myers would know.’
‘I will be back before the party starts. We will greet your guests together.’
Sophie sat watching the final splutter of the last red candle. The remains of the disaster were clearly evident.
Five plates with food—barely
