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 touched, and one plate without anything—spotlessly clean.
Richard, despite his easy assurance, had not returned in time for the start of the dinner party or its conclusion. A boy had delivered a note halfway through from Richard explaining they should start and that he’d been unavoidably delayed. He had no idea when he’d return, but he hoped it would be shortly.
She had Myers start serving the food, hoping against hope that each noise outside was Richard returning. But he hadn’t, not even when the clock struck ten.
Everyone offered to stay and wait with her, but she refused them all. The humiliation was far too great.
Henri, as she was leaving, squeezed Sophie’s hand and told her that she always had a place with them.
Lord Hallington muttered about horse whips and how his son ought to know better. He offered to take her straight to Hallington the next morning if she wished.
Sophie kept the tears back until after they had all gone. She had calmly gone through his desk, hoping she’d find a clue as to his whereabouts. She hated herself for doing it, for being the sort of suspicious wife she’d always sworn she’d never be.
She happened on a letter with her name scrawled halfway down, detailing all her faults. Exhibitionist tendencies, overly refined, no taste. The final page was missing as if for some reason Richard had changed his mind about sending the letter to this Marguerite, his confidante.
It was one thing to worry and another thing to see it in black and white. She’d always worried what others thought of her and now she knew what her husband thought. If it had not been for his honour, they would have never married. It was ironic. She had spent the past few years keeping away from men like Richard because of their lack of honour.
She put her head on her arms and cried. Richard had demonstrated what he thought of their marriage and her. She had tried so hard. In spite of the letter, she still cared about him. She wanted to know he was not hurt or in trouble.
‘I’m sorry, Sophie. I will make it up to you. I promise.’
She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway. His eyes were red ringed and tired, his normally pristine clothes mussed as if he’d stripped them off and put them on again. There were blotches which looked like dried tears on his shirt front. She wanted to murd
er him for scaring her like this. She wanted to scream at him that she wasn’t too fine for her manner or suffering from an overdose of gentility or given to making an exhibition of herself. Or the half-a-dozen other phrases that had been listed.
Sophie stood up and scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Sorry does not even begin to cover it.’
‘Let me hold you.’ He held out his arms and beckoned to her. ‘The thought of holding you has been the only thing which has kept me going through the last few hours.’
‘Really?’ Sophie crossed her arms and moved so that the table was between her and Richard. Her desire for him had been how all this trouble started. If she hadn’t kissed him in the carriage, they would never have married. She’d still have her self-respect and illusions. ‘You have a funny way of showing it. There again, I don’t suppose you truly wanted to be here and see me make a disgrace of myself with an excess of courtesy.’
Sophie picked out one of the more hurtful phrases from the letter and waited for his reaction.
His hand dropped to his side. ‘I brought you something, a token of my affection. And I wanted to be here … to make sure …’
‘To make sure what? That nothing went wrong? That I didn’t disgrace your name?’ Sophie tapped her foot on the ground. Affection? She wanted more than affection. Affection was for pets and mistresses. She was his wife. She had wanted his regard, if not his love. ‘I don’t want anything from you. And I don’t need your help. I managed the dinner party without you. I managed my life without you before we met.’
‘I bought you a necklace.’ He held out a slender box. ‘A necklace of sapphires to wear at the dinner party. You could never disgrace me, Sophie.’
He placed the open box on the table and the jewels winked up at her in the dim light, mocking her.
‘You see, they match your eyes.’
Her stomach twisted. He’d brought her jewels, but he couldn’t be bothered to show up for the dinner party, something which was important to her. She wore his ring, but he treated her like a mistress and a not very important one at that. She had thought he might come to love her and appreciate her social skills.
‘Do you think I am little better than a courtesan? To be bought off with presents? I am your wife, Richard, regardless of who my father was or—’
‘I know who you are, Sophie,’ he said in a deathly still voice. ‘I want to explain. The necklace is an important part of the explanation. When I was at the jewellers, Hannah caught up with me.’
‘Hannah?’ Sophie wanted to throw up. Richard was speaking of a woman she barely knew in intimate terms. ‘Hannah Grayson? The woman I met at the cricket? You know her well enough to call her Hannah?’
She sat down heavily. Her entire world crumbled about her. She had thought Sebastian was bad, but Richard was far worse. Stupid, naïve Sophie for believing Richard could be different. Once a rake, always a rake. First the letter, now this. She should have trusted her head, rather than her heart. She’d stupidly believed that she had enough love for the both of them.
‘Sophie. It is not what you think.’
‘How do you know what I think?’ She stared at the jewels. ‘Do you even care what I think?’
He winced. ‘I do care, Sophie. I care very much. You are my wife. It is why—’
‘It is why what? I found your letter to some Marguerite detailing my faults. How many women are in your life besides me?’
‘Hannah Grayson is my sister, Sophie, and Marguerite is my mother, but I have never written any letter. Why were you looking through my things?’
Sophie put her hand over her mouth. His sister! His mother! Why hadn’t he told her that he had a sister? Why had he hidden it from her? Particularly in the carriage when she had teased him about Hannah Grayson’s brother? ‘You are the brother who enabled the engagement, the one Miss Grayson is so proud of.’
He gave an uneasy laugh. ‘Hannah wasn’t supposed to be there or I’d never have taken you there that day.’
Sophie went cold. He wanted to keep his sister from her. ‘I wasn’t to know? About your sister being in Newcastle? Ever? What was wrong with me?’
‘Can you let me finish? Nothing is wrong with you, Sophie. You were an unasked-for complication in my ordered existence.’
‘An unasked-for complication?’ Sophie put her hands on her hips as outrage poured through her. He made it seem as though she was a burden! ‘I am sorry to make your life more difficult. You didn’t have to marry me. You were the one who insisted because of what happened in the carriage.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I wasn’t planning on meeting you when I came to Newcastle. I came up to vet my sister’s fiancé. My mother worried. I wanted to make sure that Hannah would be looked after properly and I know how men can take advantage of women, particularly when they fail to have adequate settlements. Then I met you and certain events followed.’
The news crashed through Sophie. Before Richard arrived she’d been furious, worried and scared for him. Now, she was simply numb. Not only had he kept his sister from her, but his mother as well. If ever she needed proof that he didn’t have any feelings for her, this was it. She struggled to frame the words. ‘Why did you keep them a secret from me? Why didn’t you trust me? Why were you ashamed of me?’
Richard gave an apologetic smile. ‘My mother is terrified of my father. She worried that something might happen when she heard that we were marrying. She has become quite irrational and hysterical. She chose not to come to the wedding and I hardly wanted to give you an excuse to delay. You see, Sophie, there is a logical explanation. It is not what you thought. Imagine what would have happened if she’d been at the wedding when my father showed up. In the end, it was a minor miracle. I wanted that day to be perfect for you.’
He looked at her with lidded eyes. Even now, he wasn’t trusting her with the full story. His mother had chosen not to go to the wedding because she felt Sophie wasn’t good enough.
‘You were ashamed of me? Is that why you wrote that letter?’
‘My mother can be overly proud. She has no cause to be.’ Richard rolled his eyes. ‘She and my aunt are like that. She wrote to my aunt asking for her opinion, once we were wed. The letter you found was my aunt’s reply, detailing what she wrote to my father after I goaded her. Now you see that this is all a tempest in a teapot.’
‘No, it is far worse. You didn’t trust me. You still don’t trust me. You married me without trusting me. You only married because we had to, because I forced the issue by kissing you.’ Sophie struggled to take a breath. Her insides were torn to tiny shreds.
‘There were two of us in that carriage.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘I was hardly reluctant. And as for not telling you about my mother … well, my father arrived. You tell secrets readily and without meaning to. I don’t blame you, Sophie, but they just seem to spill out of you. I selfishly wanted to concentrate on my marriage, rather than having the drama of my parents.’
‘I tell secrets!’
‘Look at how our engagement was announced to all and sundry at the Assembly Rooms, how you proclaimed it was a love match.’
‘You know the circumstance.’ Sophie ground her teeth. Of all the accusations, that was the most unfair. She prided herself on her ability to keep secrets. ‘My quick thinking destroyed Sir Vincent.’
‘I never said you did it deliberately, merely that you found it difficult to keep secrets.’ Richard’s tone became overly reasonable. ‘Secrets spill from your lips at the earliest opportunity and then someone else has to deal with the consequences. I didn’t want to deal with these consequences.’
‘Do they really?’ Sophie narrowed her eyes. She wanted to shake him hard. He knew nothing about her! She prided herself on being able to keep important secrets. She would never deliberately tell anyone anything which would harm them or make them upset. Above everything, it showed how mistaken she’d been to marry a stranger. ‘Richard, I kept the truth about our engagement from the woman who brought me up un
til after we were married and I was confronted with a glaring lie. I kept the truth from my guardian and his wife. And I share everything with Henri.’
‘You share everything with an unknown.’ He slammed his fists together. ‘There, I rest my case. Precisely why I didn’t tell you. I know what my parents are like.’
‘You are seeking to justify the unjustifiable.’ Sophie’s mouth tasted like ash. He hadn’t even listened to what she was saying. Neither did he care about her feelings. ‘And you obviously don’t want to know me very well. I thought we were friends, Richard, but we are merely strangers who shared a bed. You should have trusted me with this. Instead, you allowed me to blunder about, not knowing what was happening or why you were distant.’ Her limbs started to tremble. In another moment, she’d break down and cry. She absolutely refused to cry in front of him. ‘What else have you kept hidden from me? I loved you, Richard.’
The words hung between them. Sophie covered her mouth. She hadn’t meant to confess her love in that way.
‘That is unfair, Sophie. Bringing love into it to suit your purposes.’ He gave a half-smile and held out his hands. ‘I did marry you. I do want you, Sophie, as my life’s partner. Being with you has been an oasis of calm in my life. I’m selfish. I know that, but it was done to protect you.’
‘Shall we be honest, Richard? Finally? You married me because you could not have me any other way. Because you wanted me in your bed, but your sense of honour meant that you had to marry me. This was about sex and desire, pure and simple on your part. But I’m not a mistress. I thought I was your wife.’
‘You are making wild accusations. You are overtired.’ He put out his hand. ‘I married you because I wanted you in my life. My whole life. I planned on telling you about my mother and sister when the time was right. I wanted to enjoy you without my family causing problems for just a while longer.’
An Ideal Husband? Page 21