An Ideal Husband?. Michelle StylesЧитать онлайн книгу.
stepmother melted. She regretted the necessity of keeping her stepmother ignorant of the true arrangement, but her stepmother had never been able to keep a secret. And it was necessary to stop Sir Vincent once and for all time. But the sooner this deception was over, the better.
‘I had never considered what the people in the scandal sheets must feel and how cautious they have to be.’
‘You read the scandal sheets?’
Her stepmother put her hand to the side of her mouth and leant forwards. ‘Sophie disapproves.’
‘Does she?’
‘What a truly noble thing you have done. They were all wrong about you and how you break women’s hearts. I never believed the story about you, that Russian countess and her husband, the one who committed suicide rather than compete with you.’
‘I am grateful.’ Lord Bingfield inclined his head. ‘The situation was not how the press portrayed it. I met the countess after her husband died, and introduced her to her new husband. We remain friends.’
Sophie stared at him. Precisely how much of a favourite with the gutter press was he?
‘Lord Bingfield, you must partake of some tea or perhaps something stronger.’ Her stepmother straightened her cap. ‘I know how fond you gentlemen are of something a little more potent. I am dying to learn the truth behind some of the latest scandals.’
Sophie attempted to signal over her stepmother’s head, but Lord Bingfield simply gave a superior smile. ‘I would be delighted to spend time with you, Mrs Ravel, but I never discuss the latest tittle-tattle for obvious reasons.’
‘I shall leave you two now,’ her stepmother said at the end of a very long cup of tea. ‘Sophie has been glowering at me ever since the teapot arrived. I, too, remember what it is like to be young. I am so pleased you decided to do the decent thing, Lord Bingfield. I do worry about Sophie. Her future happiness has been a source of sleepless nights and now it is all settled. The late Mr Ravel must be beaming down from heaven. His Sophie will be a marchioness. He’d never thought his daughter would climb so high, but I knew she would.’
‘I am sure he is, Mrs Ravel.’
Her stepmother turned a bright pink and hurried off. Lord Bingfield closed the door firmly behind her. He loomed larger than ever. Sophie retreated a step.
‘The die is cast and the deception has begun,’ she said, adopting an ice-cold tone. ‘There was no need to close the door. We can take our leave in full view of any passing servant.’
‘There is every need.’ The gold in his eyes deepened. ‘I want to know why you believe you have only your fortune to offer in a marriage.’
‘What I have to offer is none of your business!’ Sophie crossed her arms. Her stomach tightened. In suggesting the false engagement, she’d just given Lord Bingfield an iron-clad opportunity for a seduction! She’d simply have to insist that certain boundaries weren’t crossed. ‘I was merely seeking to understand why you were insistent we have a real engagement. You have no regard for me.’
He took a step closer. ‘Are you saying that you are indifferent to me?’
‘Yes.’ Sophie stuck her chin in the air. ‘Yes, definitely.’
‘Liar.’
She went still. Her heart raced and her mouth became parched. She wet her lips. ‘I do not make a habit of lying, Lord Bingfield.’
‘Richard.’ He reached her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I am your fiancé now. You need to think of me as your true betrothed or Putney will create an even bigger scandal. Remember that. This might help you. Think of it as an aide-mémoire.’
She was aware of him in the same heart-thumping way she’d been aware of him the night before. She concentrated on the chintz curtains behind his left shoulder, rather than on his mouth. ‘What are you intending on doing?’
‘Demonstrating … Sophie.’
Her name sounded like a soft caress, sliding over her jangled nerves and soothing her. A warm pulse went down her spine. No one had ever used her name in quite that fashion before.
His hand tilted her chin so she looked into his eyes of pure gold.
She had only time to blink before his mouth descended, slowly, like a tiny fluttering of a breeze and then increasing intensity. Sophie told herself that she should keep her body still or scream. She should do something besides enjoying the kiss, but she discovered she was powerless to do anything else.
She closed her eyes, savoured the sensation and swayed towards him.
He let her go and stepped back. ‘Point proved … Sophie.’
This time her name was anything but a caress. Her cheeks grew hot and she rubbed her aching lips furiously. ‘It proves nothing except you, like any self-respecting rake, know how to kiss.’
He picked up his hat. ‘I will pick you up tonight.’
‘What is happening tonight?’ Sophie asked, her hand freezing in mid-air. The hard part of this engagement was not going to be pretending to be attracted to him, but keeping the attraction at bay. After insisting on the fake engagement, she could hardly back down now. When it was all over, she wanted to walk away with her head held high, knowing she had withstood the cynical seduction of a rake.
‘You and I will go to the Assembly Rooms tonight. You will demonstrate your waltzing skills to me. We want people to talk.’
‘Are we announcing the engagement?’
‘Not yet.’ He leant forwards and his breath caressed her cheek. ‘Everyone needs to see how besotted we are with each other. You can do besotted, Sophie, can’t you?’
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