An Ideal Husband?

by Michelle Styles

  ‘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 held out her hand to Richard. She started towards the dance floor. ‘Shall we go, Lord Bingfield? I fear the incident has quite spoilt my evening and here I was having such an enchanting time. Perhaps another dance with you will restore my mood.’

  ‘Putney’s behaviour was not what I would have wished for, not tonight of all nights, but I could hardly allow your plea for help to go unanswered.’ A faint smile touched his lips. ‘Another waltz will suit admirably, Miss Ravel.’

  ‘He won’t marry you, Miss Ravel. You will have only yourself to blame when it ends in tears,’ Sir Vincent called out, halting their progress. ‘You should look to your own reputation before you start smearing others. Do you know how many women he has cozened and fooled? How many women he has ruined?’

  Richard’s entire being stiffened as his hand became a clenched fist. Sophie knew what she had to do to prevent a brawl breaking out. Richard might want to beat him into the ground, but she had a better means of destroying him once and for all.

  The moment had come. Silently she thanked his foresight of getting her a ring. Her stomach clenched slightly. Finally the time had come to triumph. She peeled off her glove and raised her hand so the two sapphires twinkled in the candlelight.

  ‘If he has no intention of marrying me, why did Lord Bingfield give me this ring?’ Sophie asked, twisting her hand to and fro so everyone could see it. ‘And my behaviour this very evening? You must forgive the extravagant display earlier, but how often does a woman accept a proposal from the man of her dreams?’

  Sir Vincent spluttered, but no sound came from his throat. The gathered crowd, however, gave a long collective sigh.

  She put her hand on Richard’s arm and forced her feet to move away from the scene where Sir Vincent was now surrounded by various people intent on getting their penny’s worth in before he was hustled out of the ballroom. It would appear he was not as well liked or thought of as he’d boasted.

  A great crowd of people surrounded them, blocking Sophie’s view. The men wrung Richard’s hand, offering congratulations, while the women all wanted to admire the ring. Everyone said how delighted they were with the outcome. One or two of the ladies confessed that it was the most romantic thing they had ever seen and wasn’t Lord Bingfield the epitome of a hero. Sophie found it harder and harder to mouth the words about how much in love they were and how sudden and totally thrilling it was.

  Her head started to spin and she gave a helpless look at Richard. He appeared to understand instantly and ushered her away to a small antechamber, the very model of a solicitous fiancé. Her heart did a queer leap as her body instantly responded to his touch and she knew her cheeks flamed worse than before.

  Once they were away from the crowds, he removed his hand. Sophie sank down on a chair and waved her fan frantically, hoping Richard would think it was speaking to al
l the well-wishers, rather than his touch, which had caused her high colour. The cool breeze did much to restore her equilibrium.

  ‘My knees threatened to give way out there. The number of people who wanted to congratulate us was simply astonishing. I didn’t anticipate there would have been so many interested in my ring. The news of our betrothal seems to have spread like wildfire. The redoubtable Miss Ravel has captured the Rake.’

  He stood with his back to her, making it impossible for her to tell his true feelings. ‘Interesting and dramatic tittle-tattle has a way of doing that. Particularly when you announced things in the way you did.’

  ‘I’ve recovered from my faint,’ Sophie said firmly. She refused to apologise for her actions. Surely Richard had to see they were positively inspirational. ‘The crush overwhelmed me. So many people demanded to see my ring that I struggled to breathe.’

  ‘Your timing was impeccable both in leaving the crowd and earlier when we left Putney,’ he said, turning around to look at her. His eyes glowed with a sort of admiration. ‘Well played, Miss Ravel. Very well played indeed.’

  ‘Yes, I was rather proud of the way I handled Sir Vincent, particularly the final flourish.’ Sophie leant forwards. ‘I simply had not accounted for how many people were listening in.’

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘I quite like the thought of being someone’s dream, although it gives me a lot to live up to.’

  Sophie primly folded her hands in her lap. Perhaps her word choice had been extravagant, but it had utterly crushed Sir Vincent.

  ‘A figure of speech, that is all,’ she said, meeting his gaze full on. ‘I never thought you would hit Sir Vincent.’

  ‘I saw the opportunity and seized it. The punch was long overdue.’

  Sophie pressed her lips together. She had to remember that Richard had his own reasons for wanting to hit Sir Vincent. It had nothing to do with her and her troubles, but what had passed between the pair years ago. He had no finer feelings for her. She was simply the means to the end of exacting revenge on Sir Vincent. Because he had made a vow. She was a duty rather than a pleasure.

  Drawing a steadying breath, she stood. It was imperative to keep her wits about her and not to start believing in the romantic fantasy she had spun for various female acquaintances in the crowd of well-wishers. She knew precisely the sort of man Richard Crawford was and she’d be a fool to forget it.

  ‘My father used to say that opportunities are to be used, rather than lamented about later. You make your luck. Thankfully everything went the way I hoped. Sir Vincent is utterly destroyed.’

  ‘With a little assistance from me.’

  She smiled up at him. ‘Some very welcome assistance. I couldn’t have done it without you. Cynthia’s parents will hear of tonight’s events. They may not be so quick to offer one of their daughters up as Sir Vincent predicted. A fantastic victory.’

  ‘Do you play croquet?’

  ‘On occasion.’ She tilted her head and regarded his features. ‘It is the latest craze. We brought a set back from the Great Exhibition. I spent last summer in Corbridge perfecting my technique. I used to play cricket and was quite handy with the bat. It felt good to be hitting a ball again.’

  ‘I suspect you give no mercy to your opponents.’

  ‘I enjoy winning, but I don’t grind my opponents in the ground like some.’

  ‘We must play some time.’

  ‘It might be a pleasant way to pass the time.’ Sophie hesitated. The time had come to end their fake engagement and put temptation beyond reach. ‘I must warn you, Lord Bingfield, that what I said last night remains true. I have no intention of giving up my reputation, even for a man like yourself who did save me. I fear we must soon part.’

  His finely chiselled features frowned. ‘Do you wish to go home?’

  ‘Now that tonight’s performance has ended?’ Sophie stopped and replaced her glove, covering up her ring. She had only worn the ring for a short while, but she would be sorry to give it back.

  ‘I am at your disposal.’ He inclined his head. ‘Most women would be overwhelmed by what just occurred. No one will remark when we leave.’

  Sophie froze, considering. Did he mean that he wanted her to stay or that he thought a woman of delicate sensibilities would have to leave the ball immediately? Her backbone was made of far sterner stuff, but she could see how leaving would make matters easier. ‘Before you hit him, Sir Vincent as good as admitted to me that it was he who had informed the papers. I doubt he will try that again. Should he attempt to ruin me, I can point to tonight’s events as a reason why his poison should not be believed. Our engagement is finished. I can leave on my own if you wish to stay.’

  She waited for his agreement. His frown increased.

  ‘Your actions do mean we are tied to each other for a while longer.’ A tiny smile played on his lips. ‘Becoming engaged to your dream man meant you forgot your sensibilities. Your words, not mine. Consider what will happen if you jilt me tomorrow. Consider what the press will say then. Will you be known as a flighty heiress?’

  Sophie gulped. She could see the headline now. ‘They were a figure of speech, an added flourish.’

  ‘Added little flourishes can have grave consequences, Miss Ravel. Perhaps you should think before you act.’

  She bowed her head, acknowledging the truth in his words. ‘I can hardly jilt you tonight or any time soon. I shall have to wait until the furore dies down.’

  ‘It may take weeks or even months.’ His eyes glittered amber. ‘The episode has ensured that the engagement will be on everyone’s lips tomorrow morning. Various members of the gutter press were in the crowd. Our engagement will be the lead item in the gossip columns throughout the land. “The Redoubtable captures the Rake” has a certain resonance. Prior to your intervention, I had thought “Lord exposes caddish behaviour” or, better still, “blackmailer”.’

  Sophie winced. He had exposed a fatal flaw in her actions and had stated very clearly that he could not wait to be rid of her. Only now they were shackled together. Her doing, not his. All of his actions had been designed to take revenge on Putney and he had nearly succeeded in provoking a duel. Now, she had inadvertently prolonged the time they had to spend together.

  ‘It was the killing blow. I could not be certain your scheme would work,’ she argued.

  ‘You failed to think. Emotion carried you.’ He looked down at her. ‘It carries you still. Luckily, I still possess my faculties. We will have to spend more time in each other’s company, pretending that our engagement is one of the great love stories, or we shall be exposed as cheats.’

  Sophie put her hand on her stomach and tried to stop her insides roiling. She would have to dance with him again. She would have to pretend to be besotted. And there would be no expectation of marriage if she gave in to his charm. ‘I would like to return home now. Will you please find my stepmother and make the necessary arrangements? We can discuss how long our engagement must continue at a later date. My head pains me too much to think straight.’

  Richard struggled to control his temper as the carriage stopped outside Miss Ravel’s house. There were things which needed to be said between Sophie and him, but Mrs Ravel sat squarely between them. Mrs Ravel kept up a steady stream of conversation, seemingly oblivious to the stony silence from Sophie.

  It was far from his fault that the engagement had been announced in the way it was. That was entirely her doing. There again, it had prevented him from beating Putney into a bloody pulp.

  The sight of Putney’s hand restraining Sophie had filled him with a primitive anger. He had wanted to murder him for daring to even look at Sophie, let alone touch her in that fashion. His actions had nothing to do with the past and everything to do with Sophie.

  ‘There is no need to see us in, Lord Bingfield,’ Sophie said, alighting from the carriage before he had a chance to hold out his hand and help her down.

  ‘There is every need,’ Richard retorted silkily, ma
naging to swallow his annoyance. Despite her public declaration, in private, Sophie made it all too clear how she felt about him. ‘I could hardly allow my fiancée or her stepmother to make their way home without being there to ensure their safety.’

  What made it worse was that he had to accept all the congratulations, knowing that the woman beside him could not wait to be rid of him.

  He had never considered that he was like his father and would lose his reason over a woman, but now it seemed he had. His feelings tonight made a mockery of his proposal. No finer feelings. He definitely wanted to hold Sophie in his arms again and feel her lips tremble under his. He wanted to unlock the passion he glimpsed again tonight when they had waltzed.

  Sophie pointed. ‘We can easily make it to our door, Lord Bingfield. You can see the door from where you are standing.’

  ‘Sophie!’ Mrs Ravel exclaimed. ‘Where are your manners tonight? First you insist on leaving before I finish my hand at whist and now you seek to dismiss your fiancé like a lackey.’

  ‘The upset at the Assembly Rooms has quite turned my brain.’ Sophie inclined her head. ‘I merely meant Lord Bingfield did not need to feel obliged. He has done so much for us tonight. It would be wrong for us to presume further. I didn’t want to put him to any trouble.’

  ‘I am sure it is no trouble, Sophie. Is it, Lord Bingfield?’

  Richard silently blessed Mrs Ravel. Sophie’s earlier caution in confiding in her stepmother had resulted in him gaining a valuable ally, one which he intended to exploit fully. Everything was fair in this battle between him and Sophie’s fears. He intended to win and unlock her passion. He wanted to see what she’d be like when she forgot herself.

  He could not remember when a woman had intrigued him as much. She made him forget about his family and his reasons for being in Newcastle.