A Rake by Any Other Name by Mia Marlowe Page A

coach-and-four rumbled past Barrett House the next afternoon. It slowed slightly, so the occupants could peer back at the Goodnights.
    Sophie looked up from her weeding. If the gardens around the old dower house were going to amount to anything, it was clear she and her mother would have to see to it. The Barretts obviously didn’t have the coin to put toward its upkeep. Her father had argued for hiring some of the locals to clear out the flower beds, but Sophie wanted something to do.
    Besides, ripping into a few cankerwort roots was good for taking out her frustrations. And Richard Barrett had left her decidedly frustrated.
    The young lady in the coach stared at her from the backward-facing seat as it rattled by. She was fashionably blond and pale, with a jaunty little capote fastened on top of her curls. Next to her was a woman in a maid’s cap. The lady took in Barrett House in a swift, assessing glance and then turned to speak to the older couple, who were seated on the opposite squab.
    â€œOh, I know who that must be.” Sophie rose, removed her dirty gardening gloves, and dusted the knees of the apron protecting her frock.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œLord Hartley’s first and only original idea.” She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, tilting the brim of her straw bonnet far enough for the sunlight to kiss her nose. “That’s the girl he means to marry, I’ll be bound.”
    Her mother blinked in surprise. “But he’s meant to marry you, sweet.”
    â€œOnly if I decide to have him, and that question, I assure you, is quite unresolved.”
    Even if Lord Hartley did kiss like a god, Sophie didn’t much care for him. Any fellow who would let himself be sacrificed on the matrimonial altar solely for the sake of her bloated dowry couldn’t have much depth of character.
    Or feeling.
    â€œOh, my dear, the last thing your father and I want is to drag you into an uncomfortable situation.”
    â€œToo late.” Sophie raised a hand, shading her eyes as she watched the coach round the bend on its way to Somerfield Park. “Being offered to the highest-ranking bachelor as breeding stock counts as uncomfortable, however benign your intentions.”
    Her mother bristled at that. “You know we have only your best interests at heart. But we were unaware that another young lady is involved with Lord Somerset’s heir.”
    â€œI gather Lord and Lady Somerset were similarly uninformed, else they wouldn’t have been scheming with you and Father.”
    â€œWe’re not scheming. We’re…planning. How very tawdry you make it all sound.” Her mother gave a frustrated snort. “Who is she?”
    â€œI didn’t ask her name.”
    â€œHow serious is Lord Hartley’s attachment to this young lady?”
    Sophie shrugged. “He told me he means to wed her. That sounds rather serious, don’t you think? But that was before Father and his boundless bank notes arrived. Cheer up, Mother. Lord Hartley may yet be for sale.”
    Mrs. Goodnight ignored this jab as she paced, her fingers steepled before her in thought. “We must do something, but first we must learn more about this new young lady.”
    â€œNever commit the troops until you’ve reconnoitered, eh, Mother?” Sophie laughed. “You should have been a general.”
    Her mother was so lost in thought she seemed not to have heard her. “I have it. We’ll send a note to invite Lady Somerset and her daughters to tea tomorrow, wording the request in such a way as to include these new arrivals. We should be able to take this mysterious young lady’s measure then.”
    â€œA letter takes too long.” Sophie pulled off her apron and dropped it into the gardening basket. “I’ll simply walk up to Somerfield Park and invite them all in person.”
    â€œNo, Sophie, wait. You must change. Dress your hair. You can’t