An Ideal Husband?. Michelle Styles

love.’

      A half-smile flickered across his face. ‘Despite your formidable reputation, Miss Ravel, you are a secret romantic. Love only complicates things and makes people profoundly unhappy in my experience.’

      ‘I demand certain standards from any prospective bridegroom.’ Sophie drew herself up to her full height. ‘Standards which you sadly lack.’

      ‘However, I will consider your wish of a fake engagement and evaluate the risks. We might be able to play Sir Vincent at his own game.’

      His mouth twisted as he spat the word fake. Deep-seated anger at the injustice of the whole situation flooded through her. She was trapped in a situation not of her making and had found the perfect solution if only he’d agree. She was being honest and forthright, whereas if she’d accepted his offer he would have found a way to make her jilt him. And his idea of telling the press she’d rejected him would make them more interested in her, rather than less.

      ‘Consider!’ Sophie put her hands on her hips. ‘It is the perfect solution. Surely you must see it. There will be no need for further scandal. We will quietly part at the end. There will be no hurt feelings or accusations as we both know from the outset that the marriage will never happen. Honesty on both our parts from the start.’

      ‘You know nothing about me!’

      Sophie crossed her arms. He was like any other rake, solely interested in himself. ‘I know enough.’

      ‘I had not considered a limited engagement, but it would serve the same purpose, I suppose.’ He gave a long sigh. ‘My father will be disappointed when the longed-for engagement ends, but he generally is with me these days.’

      ‘You are a fortune hunter. It was why your aunt was so pleased to see you with me.’

      Sophie backed away from the window. Her stomach knotted. She should have guessed. And she had handed him the perfect opportunity. Just once she wanted to be wanted for herself rather than for the fortune her father had amassed. The walls seemed to close in on her and she wished her corset wasn’t as tight. Here when she walked into the drawing room, she’d been so pleased with the way the slenderness of her waist contrasted with her new crinoline. It was always the way—either look good or be able to breathe. Next time she’d remember that breathing was important when dealing with people like Lord Bingfield, particularly Lord Bingfield.

      ‘Miss Ravel, jumping to conclusions is never good.’ His ice-cold voice filled the room and cut through her panic. ‘My fortune is quite secure. The estate is well funded thanks to my mother’s dowry and eventually it will be mine. My father cannot change that. Do you wish to see the accounts? He merely wishes me to marry and provide an heir.’

      Sophie pinched the top of her nose. She could hardly confess about her past mistake with Sebastian. Just thinking about that made her feel unclean. ‘I have met fortune hunters in the past. They are a known hazard for heiresses. One has to be cautious. You can be left without any fortune at all.’

      ‘So I understand.’ His mouth twisted. ‘There are ways to protect women if one acts before marriage. You must take your time and get the right settlement. It saves heartache, as my mother found out to her cost.’

      ‘Your mother is still alive?’

      ‘My parents are divorced. The settlement was not in her favour. They were in a unique situation, as I am sure you are aware. It was all in the papers at the time. My mother was for ever banished from polite society.’

      Sophie hung her head. She had done it again—jumping to a conclusion when the truth was precisely the opposite. It made sense now why he had acted so quickly to protect her. ‘I didn’t know. I have no idea who your parents are.’

      ‘Truly?’ He raised an eyebrow and his features seemed carved from stone. ‘You surprise me, Miss Ravel. My parents’ divorce was the subject of great scandal. The account of the crim. con. trial went into several editions. A best seller, or so Putney informed me when we were at Eton.’

      ‘It happened a long time ago. The world moves on,’ Sophie replied evenly. Her stomach clenched and she knew that she had to get this right. If she said the wrong words, he could decide not to help her. ‘Scandal is not branded on people’s foreheads. A person’s true character is of far more relevance than any perceived scandal.’

      ‘Other people may beg to differ. Ever since I was at Eton, the press have been interested in my doings. First because of my parents and then …’

      She fixed him with her eye. It was obvious the sort of reputation he must have. He probably made Sebastian Cawburn look like an angelic choirboy. ‘Because you decided to give them what they wanted.’

      ‘I was determined to live my life as I pleased rather than looking over my shoulder for their approval. They have printed lies in the past and continue to twist my life so they can sell more papers. Once I had my head around that fact, I found it much easier to accept. Regardless of what the papers might say, there are certain lines I do not cross. Once I make a vow, I do my utmost to keep it. You must remember that, Miss Ravel.’

      ‘I am not interested in other people’s opinions and I am interested in how a person behaves.’

      A light flared in his eyes. ‘You are a unique individual, Miss Ravel.’

      ‘I like to think so. Do you agree to my scheme?’ Sophie held out her hand and willed him to take it, sealing their pact. ‘Once I jilt you, you can nurse a broken heart for ages. The papers will be sympathetic. Your father will have to give you time to grieve. We are simply being honest with each other at the start, rather than playing games. Neither of us will get hurt. We have much to gain.’

      He gathered her hands in his and she noticed how good it felt to touch him. Her body went rigid. She did not have to act on the attraction. Desire burnt itself out quickly. Desire was not the same as lasting love. ‘We could have made a great team, Miss Ravel.’

      ‘Sophie!’ Her stepmother’s outraged tones came from the open door. ‘What is going on here? You are holding hands with a strange man! Where has your sense of propriety gone, my girl?’

      Sophie slipped her hands from Lord Bingfield’s. Her stepmother would have to choose this moment to come into the drawing room. Nothing had been settled. ‘Going on, Stepmother? Everything is utterly innocent.’

      ‘Hornswoggle! I have seen that look in your eye before, young lady. You had better not think to twist me around your little finger.’

      ‘Allow me to introduce myself, Richard Crawford, Viscount Bingfield. My father is the Marquess of Hallington, Mrs Ravel.’ Lord Bingfield recaptured her hand. Sophie gave a little tug, but he didn’t let go. ‘Your stepdaughter has done me the honour of becoming my fiancée in light of the news reported in today’s papers.’

      Sophie struggled to fill her lungs. He had done it, despite his misgivings. They were embarked on the deception.

      ‘Sophie!’ Her stepmother went white and then red.

      ‘You had best sit down, Stepmother.’ Sophie let go of Lord Bingfield’s hand and led her stepmother to the pink-damask sofa. ‘You have had a shock.’

      ‘Then it is true, my dear child? Not some nonsense?’ Her stepmother fumbled for her reticule and her smelling salts. ‘You are going to marry this stranger? You could have told me that was the reason why you needed to meet him alone.’

      ‘I had no idea he would offer, Stepmother.’ Sophie took the reticule, retrieved the vial and waved it under her stepmother’s nose. ‘I didn’t want to get your hopes up. An engagement is the best solution in the circumstances. The gutter press appear determined that we court.’

      ‘I regret that subterfuge was necessary, but we didn’t wish for the press to become interested with regards to your stepdaughter’s innocence.’ Lord Bingfield bowed his head. ‘Alas …’

      ‘I completely understand,’ her stepmother said, her face alight with eagerness.