An Ideal Husband?. Michelle StylesЧитать онлайн книгу.
to the papers, redoubtable.’ Sophie raised her chin. ‘I will simply tell him no.’
Chapter Three
Richard stood in the middle of the Ravels’ overly ornamented and chintz-hung drawing room, trying not to knock over any of the porcelain shepherds, china ladies or vases filled with wax flowers of every hue imaginable. The entire drawing room was a riot of pink tassels, lace doilies and small tables strewn with knickknacks, all in the most fashionable but horrendous taste. His frock-coat had narrowly missed one china pig and a precariously balanced bowl of waxen fruit already as he paced, waiting for Miss Ravel to put in an appearance.
What sort of woman was the redoubtable Miss Ravel? The woman he rescued last night had not seemed in any way formidable, but badly in need of protection. The gossip from the club said that she was aloof, an ice maiden, but he kept remembering the way her eyes had flashed when she rejected his offer of a polka.
His head pounded worse than ever. All the way here, he kept going over in his mind the possible scenarios and becoming angrier. Who else could have linked their names and informed the papers? He also knew that he had to make Miss Ravel understand that he had never made a proposal of that sort.
He had expected more from Miss Ravel. He regarded a particularly nauseating shepherdess who was more strangling a lamb than cuddling it. He knew next to nothing about her except that her ball gown had fetching sophistication and she had been in trouble. Hardly the stuff to build a relationship on. It was far better to get his painful interview over and get back to leading his life.
The lady in question strode into the drawing room. The simplicity of her blue dress contrasted sharply with the overly fussiness of the room. Richard drew in his breath sharply. His dreams had not done her features justice. A certain forthrightness about her jaw warred with the frankly sensuous curve of her bottom lip. Her waist appeared no bigger than his handspan.
Her quick backward glance at the door to ensure it remained wide open, rather than shut, was telling. She appeared determined to observe proprieties, even if no one else was in the room with them.
‘Lord Bingfield,’ she said, dropping a perfunctory curtsy and her lips curving up into a smile, but she failed to hold out her hand to be kissed. Truly redoubtable this morning. ‘An unexpected development.’
‘You have seen the papers?’ he asked, surprised. ‘I could hardly avoid calling on you after such item was printed. It would mean neglecting my duty. I may be many things, Miss Ravel, but I have never been a cad.’
‘We both made our positions quite clear last evening.’
‘I understand the item in question may have made some of the later London editions. My father—’
‘This would be the father who doesn’t know you are in Newcastle?’ She gave a superior smile. ‘I can remember what your aunt said. I’m far from stupid, Lord Bingfield. However, if your being in Newcastle was going to cause problems with your parent, you should have been open and honest about it.’
‘My reasons for being in Newcastle are private.’
She raised a delicate eyebrow. ‘I will allow you to keep your reasons private. I merely mentioned this as plans have a way of going awry.’
‘Have you seen the item?’
‘My stepmother informed me of it.’ She gave a small cough. ‘Apparently your aunt has written to her, inviting her to tea. My stepmother is transported with excitement at the thought of taking tea with the great Lady Parthenope.’
‘How charming.’
Her eyes flashed blue fire. ‘I won’t have my stepmother mocked, Lord Bingfield.’
He inclined his head. ‘I was referring to my aunt, rather than your stepmother. I had not anticipated this development.’
‘Your aunt began it.’
‘Aunts are a law unto themselves, Miss Ravel, particularly my aunts. They can be wildly unpredictable. It is part of their charm.’ Aunts were a law unto themselves, but he’d never expect his aunt to take it this far, making contact with Miss Ravel’s relations before any nuptials were publically announced. There again, his aunt prided herself on her ability to ferret out people’s most discreet indiscretion and remembering snippets of gossips. It was why she proved such an effective gatekeeper for Almack’s. Currently slow torture would be too good for her, in Richard’s opinion. He’d suggest it to one of his cousins. ‘I hope your stepmother will not be too disappointed when you explain why she must not accept this invitation.’
‘My stepmother has longed for such an invitation ever since she first married my late father. She wishes to mingle with the truly genteel.’ Her neat white teeth worried her bottom lip, turning it the colour of ripe cherries. There was something innocent about her. Despite her age and reputation of being formidable, she seemed soft and gentle and in definite need of protection. ‘It was one of the reasons I was sent away to school for a time.’
‘My aunt is haughty rather than genteel. Her rudeness and sense of entitlement can be shocking at times.’
‘No matter how I explain that it doesn’t matter, my stepmother persists.’ Miss Ravel shrugged a shoulder. ‘My stepmother must do as she pleases, but I have disabused her of any notion that we are considering an alliance. I leave it to you to inform your aunt.’
‘Did you have anything to do with the item in papers? Are you responsible for it?’
‘The appearance of the item is a mystery and most vexing.’ Her eyes flared. ‘Why on earth would I want to endanger my reputation by linking my name with yours? I am well aware of what happens to women who become entangled with men like you.’
‘A simple yes or no to the original question will suffice.’ Richard fought to control his temper. Miss Ravel made it sound as though he was some sort of affliction to be avoided at all costs. He had never knowingly ruined a woman. ‘We shall go at it another way. Do you know your enemy, Miss Ravel?’
Her blue eyes met his. ‘Then, no, if you must know, I did not contact the papers. And until today, I didn’t consider that I had an enemy. Sir Vincent must be more persistent than I thought. He has ignored your aunt’s pronouncement of total innocence. Why would he do such a thing, except that he knows the merest hint of your name will soil my reputation?’
The tension rushed out of Richard’s shoulders. Her assessment was the same as his. ‘Thank you. I believe you. Forgive me for doubting you, but I had to know.’
The fire went out of her eyes. ‘You are apologising.’
‘Sir Vincent and I have previous history. He is a formidable enemy.’
‘Indeed.’ She passed a hand over her eyes and sank down on to the pink-damask sofa. ‘I have made an enemy who intends to use underhanded means to win.’
‘He has succeeded before. I am determined to stop him. This time.’ Without bidding, the image of Mary’s face floated in front of his eyes. He would have done the decent thing and married Mary before he was sent down from Oxford, despite the pain it would have caused his father. If he’d done that, she’d never have been forced into that marriage, would have never run away and met her death in that canal accident. He forced his mind away. He had to concentrate on the now and saving Miss Ravel. He knew what she was up against. Miss Ravel was an innocent.
‘Putney means to ruin you, Miss Ravel. I’ve seen him do it to other women years ago and this time I will stop him.’
‘Ruin me? How?’ she said with a hiccupping laugh. ‘We have witnesses that you made an honourable proposal. Sir Vincent can’t harm me.’
‘There are several scandal-mongers lurking outside your house.’ He gave an apologetic smile. ‘When you have been notorious, you learn to know their type. I sent them on their way.’
‘They are watching the house? Still?’
‘It