‘I would have thought the fiancée of a viscount deserved something better.’
Richard gave a quick glance at Sophie, who shrugged. She had obviously failed to confide in her stepmother about the false engagement as he’d expected her to do after he left. Intriguing.
‘Engagement rings have an unfortunate past in my family. With your stepdaughter, I thought it best to break with tradition.’ Richard made a bow. ‘Should Sophie wish it, she may of course exchange it for another.’
‘And the family jewels? I presume there are some. There again, the family jewels are always the first to go. Several women I know were palmed off with paste.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘You can always tell.’
‘Honestly, Stepmother! I explained that Lord Bingfield is not let in the pockets.’
Richard controlled his temper. The pair had obviously dealt with a fortune hunter before. Could he be the one responsible for Sophie’s caution? A stab of jealousy went through him. He wished … Richard pushed the thought away. He never speculated on a woman’s past. Ever.
‘Kept in a vault at Hallington, awaiting the next marchioness. After we are married, the jewels can be reset to her taste. My father has always been clear on that.’
‘Admit it, Stepmother, you simply wanted to boast that I was wearing a family heirloom. Personally, I am pleased Richard has shown some restraint and taste.’ Sophie flashed a smile. ‘How perfect to be able to wear it tonight. I believe I shall keep my gloves on to start with. It will make the revelation of our engagement all that more sensational if the need arises.’
‘My thinking entirely.’ Richard’s shoulders relaxed as they shared a conspiratorial smile. Tonight was about laying the foundation of the trap for Putney and ensuring Sophie remembered whom she belonged to at the moment, rather than proclaiming the engagement to everyone. Patience was required. He could risk liking Sophie as he knew what the outcome would be. He could stop this before it went too far.
‘I’m pleased we are as one on this.’
Her level blue eyes met his. ‘We are.’
The Assembly Rooms blazed with light and sound when Sophie arrived with Richard and her stepmother.
With each turn of the carriage wheel, the ring grew heavier on Sophie’s finger. It became harder and harder to keep up a light conversation. There were so many things she wanted to say to Richard about the necessity of boundaries, but her stepmother was there. And her stepmother was sure to pick up any attempt at subterfuge. Her head pained her and she wished she’d found an excuse not to attend, rather than trying for this pretence.
‘The first dance must be mine,’ Richard murmured as he handed her down from the carriage. The simple touch of his gloved hand on her elbow did nothing to calm her nerves. If anything, it heightened her awareness of him and the way her body reacted when he was near. ‘We must begin as we mean to go on. Besotted, Sophie, not looking like a death sentence hangs over your head. You were the one to suggest this. For it to succeed, people need to believe in the romance. We met and fell instantly and irrevocably in love. Right now you appear more ready for a funeral.’
‘I thought you liked my dress,’ she said in dismay. Besotted indeed! There was no possibility of allowing her heart to rule her head. What she was feeling was attraction and desire towards a distinctly unsuitable man. She didn’t have to act on that attraction. This engagement was about saving her reputation, not destroying it for ever.
‘I do, but it is your expression I worry about and I was sure you would break your fan in the carriage. You clutched it far too tightly and you chose to sit as far away from me as possible, practically hugging the door.’
Sophie pressed her lips together, hating that he had noticed her discomfort. She could hardly confess to being wary of him. It would only mean making it easier for him to seduce her. ‘It is difficult to fit two dresses in the same carriage.’
He laughed. ‘If that is what you want to believe you may, but I prefer to trust my instincts.’
Sophie forced her features to relax. Her stomach was in more knots than the first time she had attended a dance. It amazed her that Richard had noticed anything and had thought to ask. Her stepmother had sailed on, seemingly oblivious as her earlier misgivings proved groundless.
There were so many pitfalls to this current plan. She wished she had actually thought it through thoroughly before she suggested it. But it was this or ruin. Or accepting his offer for real. She ruthlessly quashed that little voice.
‘We need to speak. Urgently,’ Sophie whispered back. ‘There is so much which is unsettled between us. Ways other people, particularly Sir Vincent, can expose us.’
‘It must be a waltz. Waltzing is more convenient for speaking than a polka.’
She refused to consider how he knew such things. If they waltzed, she’d be in his arms, Sophie realised with a gulp. ‘I thought you never asked a woman twice. I refused you last night.’
‘Last night I asked. Tonight I am telling you. I trust you know the difference.’
‘A quadrille won’t do?’ she squeaked.
‘Not for a prolonged conversation.’ A faint dimple shone in the corner of his mouth. ‘There is always bound to be a quiet card room where we will not be disturbed.’
She didn’t want to think about going to a card room with him. She could remember all too clearly what had happened when she went into that deserted card room with Sebastian. Never again would she be like that!
‘I have had enough of card rooms, thank you. In any case my stepmother will think it odd if we simply disappear at the first opportunity. She knows about the promises I gave my guardian years ago and how I have endeavoured to keep those promises.’
‘A waltz or the card room, Sophie.’
‘The first waltz, it is. I believe it will go a long way towards the besotted impression.’
His entire being stiffened and didn’t appear to hear her last teasing remark.
‘Is there a problem?’ she asked, peering at the young lady and stylishly dressed older woman who seemed to have caught Crawford’s eye. The young lady was beautiful in that dark sort of way that Sophie knew she could never be. There was a faint exoticism about her features. The older woman was clearly her mother.
He shook his head and cupped his hand under her elbow, definitely turning her away from the pair. Her body reverberated from the touch. ‘It was simply someone I thought I recognised. A mistake.’
‘Another one of your conquests?’ She laughed and tried to concentrate on the poster advertising the visit of Charles Dickens that coming August. She should have expected it, but it still hurt. Once a rake, always a rake. She had no right to expect anything from him. This entire engagement was spun-sugar pretence and artifice, rather than truly solid and secure love. ‘I don’t mind. There is no finer feeling between us. Indeed, I have no interest in you beyond securing my reputation.’
Her heart thudded that it was a lie. She was certainly aware of him. And he had been perceptive enough to realise that she was nervous. She simply didn’t want to start liking him. There had to be reasons to keep her heart safe. Soon enough, he would revert to type. She had to keep remembering that
