by Connie Mason
Sophia froze on the bottom landing as the study door burst open and a short, stout man with nondescript features and a red face charged forward. He saw Sophia and came to an abrupt halt.
“Who are you, my dear?” the man asked.
Sophia did not care for the man’s familiar manner and was about to tell him so when Rayford appeared behind the brash stranger.
“Sir Oscar, this is my stepsister, Miss Sophia Carlisle. Sophia, please greet Sir Oscar Rigby, a . . . er . . . business acquaintance of mine.”
Rigby reached for Sophia’s hand and brought it to his mouth for a wet kiss. Repressing a shudder, Sophia snatched her hand away.
“Your sister, eh?” Rigby said, sending Caldwell a speaking glance. “Perhaps I was a bit hasty in my demands. Shall we return to your study to resume our discussion? I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that both of us can live with.”
Sophia backed away, wanting no part of Ray’s business dealings. If he hadn’t gambled away her dowry along with his wife’s modest fortune, they wouldn’t be in such dire straits now. She’d hoped that when Ray married Claire he’d give up his wild ways and settle down, but that had not happened.
Sophia wished herself back in their rundown manor house in the country, where she could keep herself busy helping the people in their little village. This scheme of Ray’s to bring her to London to find a wealthy husband had been doomed to failure from the beginning. They had been in Town nearly a month and not one invitation had arrived, and Ray had found no one to sponsor her at Almacks or any other Society function.
“Sir Oscar,” Sophia said, nodding curtly, “I shall leave you and Rayford to your negotiations. I’m needed in the kitchen to confer with Cook.”
Rigby watched Sophia walk away, his gaze riveted on the seductive sway of her hips. He watched until she had disappeared through a doorway before reentering the study. Caldwell followed him inside and shut the door.
“Your sister is stunning,” Rigby said. “Why hasn’t she married?” He tapped his chin, deep in thought. “Hmmm, Sophia Carlisle; ah, yes, now I remember. There is a bit of scandal associated with her name. She fled Town in disgrace some years back. I overheard a bit of gossip about her at one of the gambling hells shortly after you and Miss Carlisle returned to Town but paid it little heed.”
Caldwell shrugged off Rigby’s words. “It was a minor incident that happened years ago. Forget Sophia. You spoke of an arrangement. I’m anxious to hear the details.”
“First, tell me if you can lay your hands on the five hundred pounds you owe me.”
“No, but if you give me more time—”
“No more time. I already told you I’m leaving London shortly. But there is another way you can repay your debt without it costing you a penny.”
Caldwell’s face lit up. “Just tell me how and it’s yours.”
Rigby rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, excitement combined with anticipation clearly evident in his leering grin. Lacing his hands behind his back, he preened before Caldwell like a strutting peacock.
After a suspenseful few moments, he blurted out, “I want your stepsister. Give me one night with her and I will destroy your vowels. If you refuse, I’ll go straight to the magistrate and have you thrown in debtor’s prison.”
Caldwell gaped at Rigby. “You want Sophia?”
“Indeed I do. I want her in my bed for one night. She’s far superior to the female slaves available to me on my plantation and the whores I’ve frequented in London.”
Caldwell began to pace. “I brought Sophia to London to find her a husband. Give me time to arrange a profitable match and you’ll have your five hundred pounds in cash.”
Rigby shook his head. “That’s not acceptable. Is your sister untouched?”
“I have reason to believe she is.”
Rigby’s eyes glazed over. “How fortunate for me. Is it a deal, Caldwell?” Caldwell hesitated. “I might even offer a little extra if she pleases me,” he added.
“Sophia will never agree. She’s grown stubborn and fractious of late. I have little control over her.”
Rigby shrugged. “It’s up to you, of course, whether or not you force her to obey. You could remind her that your wife will have no husband if you go to debtor’s prison.”
Caldwell winced. He didn’t care a fig about Claire. He had left her in the country because she would hinder his activities in Town.
Well, there was no help for it. Sophia would have to swallow her pride and face the inevitable. She was on the shelf. No man would offer her anything but an improper proposal, he now realized. Selling Sophia’s favors was the only viable solution to mending his finances.
After Rigby had his night with Sophia, Caldwell intended to offer her favors to other men. Perhaps one would even keep her as his mistress. It wasn’t as if Sophia would suffer as a rich man’s plaything. She would be kept in style, have servants to wait on her, jewels she could sell later, and live a life of luxury. It wasn’t a bad life, and Caldwell would make sure he shared in the profit. All he had to do was convince Sophia.
“Sophia will do as I say,” Caldwell assured Rigby.
“I thought you would say that. I will call on Sophia tomorrow night. Make sure she knows what I want from her.”
“Don’t come until after ten; that’s when she usually retires. I’ll give the servants the night off and leave the house when you arrive. But I’ll want my vowels returned before you visit her room.”
The agreement made, Rigby took his leave, strutting off like a cocky rooster. Caldwell remained in his study, planning Sophia’s ruination.
Sophia emerged from the kitchen when she heard the front door close. While she had no idea what the obnoxious Sir Oscar wanted with Rayford, she knew instinctively that it involved money. The man made her skin crawl. She headed for the study, intending to speak to Ray about leaving London.
“What did that man want?” Sophia asked as she strode into the study. “You’d do well to stay away from men of that ilk.”
Caldwell sent her a sullen look. “You don’t even know him.”
“You’re right, and I don’t want to. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“And I have something to discuss with you, so speak your piece first, and then I will speak mine.”
Sophia felt nothing but disgust for her stepbrother. Ray’s mother had been her father’s first wife. She had brought her son from a former marriage with her. Rayford had inherited the title of viscount at an early age.
After Ray’s mother died, Sophia’s father married her mother. She had been their only child. Unfortunately, her father had grown so fond of his first wife’s son that he made Rayford Sophia’s guardian. Ray was an unrepentant gambler and indifferent provider, and her father had been no better. Both Ray and her father had put their own needs before those of the family, leaving the women who depended on them destitute. Sophia could barely stand Ray and knew the feeling was mutual.
“It’s time to return home,” Sophia said. “There’s nothing to be gained by remaining in London except accumulating more debt. We both knew that trying to find me a husband was doomed to failure.”
“Why did you agree to come to London if you thought it was futile?”
She looked away. She had had several reasons, but only one she was willing to admit. “I wanted to prove to you once and for all that I’m unmarriageable. I wanted you to stop hounding me about snaring a rich husband to benefit your empty pockets. Let’s put all this foolishness behind us and return home. You should concentrate on providing your estate with an heir.”
“Why do I need an heir to a bankrupt estate?” Caldwell snarled. “You could save us if you put your mind to it.”
“You’re going to have to get yourself out of this one, Ray.”
“Why should I put myself out for you when you’re the reason the family has fallen so low?”
Guilt rode Sophia. She’d spent years trying to forget the event that had sen
t her fleeing from London. But one thing she had never forgotten was the man she had fallen in love with when she was seventeen.
“Our family would be fine today if you hadn’t gambled away everything but our home and land. It’s time to leave London, Ray. The estate still brings in rent and money from crops. You could make it prosper if you tried harder.”
“I’m not a farmer and never will be,” Caldwell contended. “No, Sophia, you’re the only one who can save me from debtor’s prison.”
“Me! How do you figure that?”
“I’ve lost more than I intended at the tables. My creditors are hounding me. One man in particular is demanding immediate repayment of the debt I owe him. He has threatened to send me to debtor’s prison if I don’t come up with the blunt.”
“You’re an irresponsible fool, Ray,” Sophia spat. “Debtor’s prison is too good for you. Even though Claire and I never saw eye to eye, I pity her.”
“I’ve received an offer for you that could help repair our financial difficulty.”
Sophia stared at him, mistrusting anything he said. “What kind of an offer, and from whom?”
“Hear me out before you refuse. Your cooperation could save our family.”
“You never cared about anyone but yourself,” Sophia charged.
“I married that cow Claire, didn’t I? Do you think I would have offered for her if I didn’t need her blunt?”
“Blunt you managed to squander in a relatively short time.”
Caldwell cleared his throat. “Sir Oscar—”
“Never say that toad offered for me!” Sophia spat. “The answer is no, no and no.”
“Sir Oscar said he will tear up my vowels in exchange for a night in your bed,” Caldwell continued over Sophia’s objection. “He was quite taken with you.”
“How dare you! You should have challenged him for the insult, or at the very least showed him the door.”
Caldwell’s mouth flattened; his eyes became cold as ice. “You always were a troublesome chit. It’s not as if you’re a sought-after deb. You’re on the shelf, and even if you weren’t, you’re tainted by scandal.”
“I won’t do it, Rayford. I don’t need your support. I received a very good education. I can support myself as a governess if need be.”
“What about Claire? Would you leave her without support? The estate is bankrupt.”
“I won’t do it, Ray, not even for Claire. She has her parents, while I have no one. I’m not going to prostitute myself for you or anyone else. I’m going to place an ad in The Times tomorrow, advertising my services as a governess.”
Turning on her heel, she swished past Caldwell and out the door.
Sophia spent the rest of the day avoiding her brother, and when he joined her for dinner that night, he didn’t bring up the subject of Sir Oscar, much to Sophia’s relief. She retired directly following the meal and didn’t see Rayford again until dinner the following night.
“I gave the servants the night off,” Caldwell said when Sophia finished eating and excused herself.
Sophia stared at him. It was so unlike Rayford to be generous that she could scarcely credit it. “Did they request the night off?”
“The maid asked permission to spend the night with her mother, so I decided to give Jeeves the night off, too. And of course, Cook always returns to her family after dinner is prepared and served.”
“I bid you good night, then,” Sophia said. She paused at the door. “By the way, my ad should appear in The Times tomorrow.”
Since Rayford didn’t react to the news as she’d expected, Sophia shrugged and left him sitting at the table. She went directly to her room, where she busied herself with various chores until her eyes began to droop. Then she undressed, washed, cleaned her teeth and pulled on a linen nightdress that had turned transparent after countless washings. Her final act before climbing into bed was to build up the fire with the last of the coal in the scuttle.
Squirming beneath the quilt to find a comfortable position, Sophia wondered if she would receive any replies to her ad. Aware that it would take a day or two for replies to reach her by return mail, she fell asleep looking forward to achieving full independence from Rayford. His despicable request that she prostitute herself on his behalf had been the last straw. Her disgust for him had finally reached the point of no return.
As sleep claimed Sophia, she had no idea that Rigby had arrived and was being welcomed by Caldwell.
“Is she waiting for me?” Rigby asked eagerly.
“Not exactly,” Caldwell muttered. “She’s probably sleeping. I’m leaving it up to you to tame her. She refused to cooperate, but I don’t see that as an impediment. She always was a stubborn chit. A man of your experience should be able to handle one small reluctant woman.”
Rigby, decked out like a dandy and smelling strongly of perfume, appeared pleased by Caldwell’s compliment. Puffing out his chest, he said, “Point out her room so I can get on with it.”
“In a moment. The servants are gone, and I am about to leave myself. But first, I’ll have my vowels.”
“Do you think I’m stupid? You’ll have them tomorrow, after I’ve had my night with your fetching sister. If you think to trick me, there will be hell to pay. I’m an unforgiving man with a long memory.”
“No tricks, I promise,” Caldwell said. “Sophia’s chamber is upstairs, the first door on the right. I wish you a pleasant good night. I don’t intend returning until tomorrow morning, at which time you can give me my vowels.”
After Caldwell’s hasty exit, Rigby started up the stairs, all but drooling over the prospect of bedding Sophia. He’d had a whore or two while visiting London, but they were hags compared to Miss Sophia Carlisle. If she turned out to be a virgin, he’d count his bargain with Caldwell well worth the monetary loss.
It wasn’t as if he were a pauper. He had made a fortune in the slave trade out of Jamaica.
Sophia stirred in her sleep. Not fully awake, she lay still, listening for whatever had disturbed her. When she heard footsteps in the hallway, she assumed it was Rayford seeking his bed and rolled over, hunkering down into the warm feather bed. Then she heard the door open and the latch fall back into place as it closed.
She sat up, squinting into darkness alleviated only by the dying embers in the grate. “Rayford, is that you?”
No answer was forthcoming.
The footsteps advanced, moving closer to the bed. “Rayford! What are you doing in here?”
Sophia felt a shimmer of panic when a man emerged from the shadows and passed before the hearth, his stout body outlined in the flickering light. She knew instantly that it wasn’t Rayford, for the short, stout figure couldn’t possibly belong to her tall, slim stepbrother. When she finally realized who had invaded her room, she opened her mouth and let loose a piercing scream.
“We’re alone in the house, so there’s no one here to hear you, my dear,” Rigby said as he struck a light to the candle on her nightstand.
Stunned, Sophia stared at him. His mouth was slack, his eyes bright with lust. “Get out!”
“Oh, no. I’m paying dearly for you and I won’t be denied.”
“If you’re talking about your unholy bargain with my stepbrother, I want no part of it. Rayford can rot in prison, for all I care. Now get out before I summon the Watch.”
Rigby reached for the quilt and stripped it away. “I’m not going anywhere, my dear. Take off that nightdress so I can see what I’m paying for.”
For a moment, Sophia’s brain had shut down, but now she was thinking clearly, her mind searching for a way to escape Sir Oscar’s nefarious plans for her. She was alone in the house, with no one but herself to rely upon.
Rigby reached for the hem of her nightdress.
“Wait!” Sophia cried. “I won’t make it easy for you if you try to rape me. Wouldn’t it be a much more pleasant experience if I came to you willingly?”
Rigby gaped at her. “You’d do that?”
Never i
n a million years. “Of course.” She summoned a smile. “After all, my compliance would benefit my family.” She nearly gagged over her next words, for she knew Rayford cared little for her. “I’m very fond of my stepbrother.”
“I own I am surprised,” Rigby replied. “Caldwell led me to believe you would object.”
He discarded his jacket and cravat and would have shed his breeches and boots if Sophia hadn’t raised a hand, stopping him. “Wait! Let me help you.”
Trying her seductive best, though she knew little about seduction, she climbed out of bed, allowing a bit of ankle and calf to show beneath her nightdress. Taking note of the way Rigby stared at her ankles, she sidled up to him and began unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when she pulled his shirt halfway down his arms, imprisoning them at his sides.
“Sit down, Sir Oscar, so I can remove your boots.”
His arms still captured by his shirt, Sophia led him to a chair. “What about my shirt?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Sophia purred. “We’ll do this my way or not at all. Sit down and let me tend to your needs.”
By now Rigby was panting with lust. “This waiting is killing me.” Nevertheless, he sat down in the chair Sophia indicated.
“We have all night,” Sophia reminded him as she thought of all manner of vile things she’d like to do to Rigby and Ray.
Sophia moved behind Rigby. He swiveled in the chair to find her. “What are you doing? Stay where I can see you.”
Sophia’s lush lips pursed in a fetching pout. “Turn around while I take off my nightdress. If you peek, I won’t finish undressing you.”
His eyes glazed over. “I had no idea you enjoyed playing sex games. Caldwell made no mention of your . . . unconventional nature.”
“Rayford doesn’t know everything,” Sophia said, rolling her eyes. “Turn around, Sir Oscar.”
Rigby had become so excited he was literally bouncing in the chair. Though clearly reluctant, he did as Sophia asked. “Don’t take too long. I’m hard as a rock and ready to burst.”