His father puffed up his chest. ‘There wasn’t time. I had to get back to my pigs. Your aunts wanted me to attend some ball. I hate balls.’
‘I am not personally acquainted with any pigs,’ Sophie said slowly. ‘Therefore, I have much to learn. Hopefully we can have a good conversation about pigs later. I am sure they are very fascinating creatures. And sometimes I am sure they are better and more honest company than some in society.’
The red receded from his father’s face and Richard knew Sophie had said precisely the right thing. His father always calmed down when he spoke of his pigs. To him, the pigs were the most important thing in the world.
‘My dear, they are completely fascinating. Far more intelligent than most people.’
‘You must come to the wedding breakfast, Lord Hallington,’ Sophie said with a very pretty curtsy. Richard silently blessed her for being understanding. He was hard pressed to think of anyone else who could handle the situation so well.
His father raised an imperious eyebrow and looked at Richard with a disdainful expression. ‘Am I invited to my only son’s wedding breakfast?’
Richard’s fist balled and he fought against the urge to deny the request and tell him to leave immediately. It would only end badly with both of them shouting. He refused to air his dirty linen in public. It was the last way he wanted Sophie to remember the moments after their wedding.
He struggled to find the right words which would tell his father that he was unwelcome if he persisted in this behaviour, but held the thinnest veneer of politeness. His only hope now was that Sophie remained unaware of how incredibly rude his father was being.
‘Of course you are invited,’ Sophie said with a perplexed frown. ‘You are Richard’s father and his nearest relation. Now you are mine. Had we known that you were expected today, we would have waited the ceremony for you.’
Unexpected tears came into his father’s eyes. ‘Truly? You would have waited for me?’
‘You failed to give a time or date of your arrival, Father. You have no one to blame but yourself,’ Richard said, silently blessing the fact that Sophie had not known about his father’s intended arrival. He could not have taken another night without her in his arms. ‘You must become more modern and consult a train timetable before you write your letters.’
His father gave an incommunicative grunt.
Richard barely restrained himself from shaking him.
‘Lord Hallington, I’m Dorothy Ravel, Sophie’s stepmother.’ Mrs Ravel bustled up and did an extravagant curtsy. Her many ribbons and flounces quivered.
His father looked taken back at the vision of ribbons, flounces and violent clashing colours which was Mrs Ravel.
Richard wanted to shake him for not seeing the good heart which beat underneath. He was going to react like his aunt and mother—condemning the Ravels for having too fine of a manner for their station before actually knowing them.
Mrs Ravel’s voice might not be cut-glass, but she was Sophie’s stepmother and now his mother-in-law. She deserved more respect than a curled lip. Surely his father had to see that there was no point in making matters worse and saying the words out loud where other people could hear?
‘You must come back for the wedding breakfast,’ Mrs Ravel said from where she remained in the curtsy. ‘I’m sure dear Bingfield had no idea of your arrival. You must be famished. I have made my famous seed cake. I found it wonderful for restoring the late Mr Ravel after travelling.’
His father’s eyes gleamed for an instant before his mouth turned down. ‘Seed cake? I am partial to seed cake, if it is properly made. You can’t get the sort I had as a child these days. More is the pity.’
There was a defiant tilt to Sophie’s head and her eyes flashed dangerously. ‘My stepmother’s seed cake is famous throughout Northumberland. She has won a number of competitions with it, including the blue riband at Stagshaw Fair last year. You should try it before you dismiss it out of hand, Lord Hallington.’
Richard glowed with pride. His father had not succeeded in cowing Sophie, despite his fearsome rage. His father’s mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound emerged.
‘I find any sort of shock is better dealt with a drop of Marsala and piece of seed cake,’ Mrs Ravel said in a soothing voice. ‘It is what my late husband, Sophie’s father, used to swear by.’
‘With an invitation like that, how can I refuse?’ His father inclined his head and his eyes began to twinkle. ‘Particularly when it is given by two such charming ladies.’
Richard’s neck muscles relaxed. Crisis averted. He silently bid farewell to his plan of taking Sophie away to the Alps for their wedding trip straight away. A few days’ delay while his father remained in Newcastle. He could not risk having his parents meet and not being there to deal with the fallout. His father was unpredictable at the best of times, and his mother might give way to hysterics. It would be wrong to expect Hannah to cope on her own.
He kicked himself for having given the promise to his mother to delay telling Sophie the full truth. But a promise was a promise, even if it was an unwise one. He could not break it without informing his mother first.
‘You must ride back in my carriage, Lord Hallington. The newlyweds need a bit of privacy. Now, you will advise me … What sort of clothes will dear Sophie need in her new position? I have not had time to sort out the trousseau. And a future marchioness needs to be a leader in fashion, rather than a follower. I am sure you understand, Lord Hallington, the necessity.’
Mrs Ravel hustled his astonished father away, leaving him alone with a white-faced Sophie. Her hand clutched her nosegay as if she were drowning and it was the only thing which could save her. His father had badly shaken her. He struggled to control his anger at his father and recapture that feeling of pride and anticipation he had had when they finished their vows.
‘Shall we go to this wedding breakfast?’
Chapter Eleven
Sophie bit back her questions about Richard’s past until they were in Richard’s carriage. Safely out of earshot of anyone else. The last thing she wanted was the humiliation of having to ask for explanations for things her new husband should have told her about before they married. She had her pride.
When they had come out of the church, a light rain had started to fall, but a small crowd had gathered, waiting for them. She thought she’d seen Hannah Grayson hurrying away with a heavily veiled woman and somehow it made things worse.
Yesterday, Miss Grayson had been so happy about her upcoming wedding and all the plans. It was sure to be a big society affair with lots of friends and relations, much as Robert and Henri’s had been.
There could not be a greater contrast with her hurried hole-in-the-corner affair with barely anyone attending. She had never considered her wedding would be like this, particularly not with her bridegroom’s father demanding an explanation as to why Richard had married so quickly.
There could be only one conclusion. Lord Hallington had intended to stop this marriage, just as he had stopped another marriage. If he had arrived sooner, would Richard have even married her? Would she even have been in that carriage with him?
A small knot of misery formed in the pit of her stomach. Moments before she’d been so happy and excited to be married to Richard. Now she realised that she knew very little about him. She knew small things like how passionate he was about cricket and what a brilliant dancer he was, that he took his tea black, but she didn’t know any of the truly big things, particularly how he’d conducted his previous relationships. She’d waited and waited for him to talk about the scandals in his past, or indeed anything significant about his childhood, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t even given her a subtle opportunity. And now they were married. Rather than marrying a friend, she’d married a stranger.
‘When were you going to tell me about your father’s imminent arrival in Newcastle? Before or after the wedding trip?’ she asked in a deadly calm voice, the sort she only used when she was very upset.
The taste of unshed tears slid down the back of her throat. She looked up at the roof and blinked rapidly. She absolutely refused to cry on her wedding day. Her wedding day! She was supposed to be happy, not feel as though she had been kicked in the stomach by a horse.
‘My father sent a note saying he intended to travel to Newcastle. He failed to give a date or time, merely that I should expect him.’ He put an arm about her shoulders, but she shrugged it off. ‘I am a grown man. I refuse to wait attendance on him.’
‘People don’t travel like that, not these days,’ Sophie protested as her mind reeled. What was it that Richard wasn’t telling her? She had always hated it when her father was alive and he had kept things from her. She’d always vowed it would not happen to her again. She didn’t need protecting from anything, particularly not his family. ‘There are timetables and schedules. People send letters. The post takes a matter of hours.’
‘My father is remarkably old-fashioned about such things, as you will discover. This is possibly the first time he has ever taken a train.’ He covered her hand with his, but she withdrew it. ‘In the past he called trains the devil’s creation and stoutly refused to consider boarding one.’
The back of Sophie’s neck prickled. Old-fashioned. Was he also old-fashioned about the sort of woman he wanted his son to marry? She wanted to be a credit to Richard, not drive a wedge between him and his father. ‘You know your father best.’
‘You must believe me, Sophie.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. His face bore a pleading expression. ‘I truly didn’t expect him to arrive today. There have been times in my life that he has promised to arrive, but some crisis with his pigs has prevented him. I have given up expecting him to do things because I want him to be there. And I did want to marry you as soon as possible, rather than waiting for my father who might not appear. My aunts always came to Montem Day at Eton with a picnic for my cousins, but my father never managed, despite saying he would. Do you know how hard it is to wait for someone to appear and then for them not to show up because their prized sow has given birth to piglets?’
Sophie’s heart bled for the younger Richard who had wanted his father and had been overlooked for a load of pigs. Her father might have been busy, but he’d always been there when she had needed him. She couldn’t imagine the pain and humiliation Richard must have felt.
‘I didn’t know. My father always made time for me … after my mother died.’
‘My father has said on numerous occasions that he will never go to Newcastle. You heard my aunt at your stepmother’s At Home. I refused to wait any longer for you in my bed and in my life.’ He raised her hand to his lips. ‘I refused to give you an opportunity for delay and you wanted this marriage to happen quickly as well. You agreed to it.’
‘I suppose.’
‘I’m selfish, Sophie.’ He put his hand to his heart. ‘One of my worst faults. I admit it, but can you blame me? You are too great a prize to risk.’
Sophie gripped her flowers tighter. She had spent her entire life trying to be genteel and refined, and Richard’s family didn’t think she was. Any more than Sebastian had or indeed some of the truly refined girls at school. ‘But you were going to tell me about your aunt’s verdict.’
‘Any report my aunt made to my father matters not a jot to me. I told her so at the At Home.’ He gave a heart-melting smile which sent a shot of warmth coursing through her. Sophie struggled to ignore it.
His aunt’s verdict might not have mattered to him then, back when the engagement was false, but would it matter one day? His aunt’s report had mattered to his father.
‘I have the wedding trip all planned,’ Richard said, seemingly oblivious to her concerns. ‘We are going to Hamburg and then we will travel to the Alps. For you and your dreams, I will travel on the sea. You would not believe how efficient shipping agents can be when you explain it is for a wedding trip and are willing to pay. It is where you said you always wanted to go. I shall pose for you in an Alpine meadow. You can paint and then we shall see where it leads.’
Sophie’s heart did a little leap. He did remember the dream she had abandoned after the Sebastian incident. It was more than the painting. She bit her lip, torn between her desire to see the Alps and the knowledge that her father-in-law had indeed travelled all the way up from Hampshire to Newcastle. And if Richard was to be believed, taking a train for the first time in order to meet her and see if his aunt’s judgement was correct.
She drew a shuddering breath and felt stronger. There was little point in crying over what might have been. ‘We may have to postpone the wedding trip. Your father is here now. It seems churlish to leave. Can you work up your courage again to brave the sea? I promise to hold your hand all the way.’
‘You have a very sweet nature, Lady Bingfield.’ He raised her hand to his lips. ‘Very sweet indeed. My father was a foul-tempered brute today, but he is my father. He can be very charming when he makes the effort. It will mean a lot to him if we stay.’
‘We can go later in the year. It will be all the more pleasant.’ Silently Sophie resolved to win Lord Hallington over. She would prove to him that she was a worthy daughter-in-law, rather than the sort of woman he thought her to be.
‘You are sitting far, far too far away from me, Lady Bingfield.’
Sophie sat up straighter and concentrated on her nosegay. If she allowed it, he would change the subject and she might never learn anything more about him. It was important that she know. The true extent of her ignorance frightened her and the knot of misery seemed to be growing larger.
‘Was it true what your father said about you marrying someone else?’ she asked around the hard lump in her throat.
‘I hardly intend to spend my wedding day discussing other people, but I made my vow never to be the knowing instrument of Putney after I learnt of Mary’s tragic death in an accident.’ He made a cutting motion with his hand. ‘I was young and had been just sent down. Mary’s family decided not to wait and married her off before I had a chance to return. Mary had been resisting the match before. He was a friend of Putney’s. Mary decided to escape the marriage and died in a canal-boat accident. Her sister said that she was on her way to me. How much of that was true I didn’t know. I resolved never again to knowingly let that happen.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Sophie closed her eyes. His insistence that his first proposal was a real one now made sense.
‘Whether or not I’d have married her is pure speculation. It didn’t happen. I can truly say that of all the women I have met, you are the only one who has tempted me to put my head in the parson’s noose.’
‘My friend Henri lost her first husband shortly after they married. For years she refused to even look at another man.’
‘The state of my heart had nothing to do with my reasons for not marrying.’ Richard’s features appeared carved out of stone. ‘I have seen the problems firsthand when your heart rules your head. I had not met anyone I wanted to marry until I met you. All of the women I became involved with did not tempt me, Sophie. Several of them tried.’
Sophie looked at her nosegay where the tiny pink roses stared up at her in mute rebuke. He had not claimed any finer feeling. She had simply assumed. She had wanted to marry a friend for love and she’d married a stranger for desire. And the stranger was highly experienced, whereas she had no experience in these matters.
‘Your father didn’t approve of me. It is why he came up.’ Sophie tightened her grip on the nosegay and hoped he’d understand and give her some measure of reassurance. ‘Your father seemed so angry at the wedding. I have never seen anyone go red like that before.’
‘Once he gets to know you properly, he will approve wholeheartedly. Trust me on this. I know my father and what he wants for me. You are precisely what I require in a wife and that is what is important.’ He leant over and kissed her forehead.
Sophie tried to hang on to his words and use them to quieten the hard knot in her stomach. What he req
uired in a wife. They were not precisely words of love, but it would have to do. For now. But he seemed to be holding something back, something vital, and it niggled at her insides. ‘I will attempt to remember that.’
‘Now, are we going to enjoy the day, our wedding day, or are we going to spend the time discussing people and events that have no bearing on our future?’
‘That went better than I had hoped,’ Sophie said as they left the wedding breakfast in Richard’s carriage. She had changed from her wedding dress into a smart bottle-green dress with a matching tailored jacket. Her tiny pillbox hat with its dyed green feather and the beaded gloves completed the outfit. She thought it set off her blonde hair admirably. The warmth she had seen in Richard’s eyes when she came down the stairs with her crinoline imported directly from Paris slightly swinging to reveal her ankles encased in half-boots made the time she’d spent getting ready worth it.
The tiny hard knot in the pit of her stomach faded.
Contrary to her earlier fears, Lord Hallington had proved remarkably charming at the wedding breakfast and had gone out of his way to be kind to her stepmother, even going so far as to compliment her on using wax flowers rather than the real thing. Apparently Lord Hallington had recently developed a passion for collecting china pugs, but her stepmother had a number which he had not seen before.
‘Did my father say how long he was staying in Newcastle? He merely told me that he was staying as long as necessary. I want to start the wedding trip as soon as possible. I have promised you the Alps and you shall have them.’
Sophie laughed at Richard’s expression. It had been obvious to her at the wedding breakfast that Lord Hallington adored his only child. He had simply been upset at the suddenness of the marriage and hungry. Once he had eaten a bit, she could see where Richard had acquired his charm from.
‘He has taken rooms at the Neville Hotel on my stepmother’s advice. He said nothing to me, but from what I understood from my stepmother when I changed into my going-away dress, it will be a week or two, possibly three.’
An Ideal Husband? Page 17