won’t accept.”
“Oh, you’ll accept. You will accept or you will leave my house today. You forget that you do not come into your inheritance for another year. Without me, you have no one. We both know that while Dearbourne is more than happy to bed you, he would never marry you.”
She flinched at her aunt’s words, knowing they were true.
“If you’re lucky, he might consent to make you his mistress. For a time, anyway. So you have a decision to make. Accept Mr Stanley’s suit or cast yourself away from polite society forever.”
A cold panic settled over Sophie, robbing her of the strength her previous anger had given her.
“Aunt Jane, please don’t do this. Allow me some time to choose someone else—”
“Dress and meet me downstairs in one hour. I will expect your decision then. But know that if you choose to defy me in this, you will be leaving here with nothing.”
Sophie could only watch in despair as her aunt left the room, closing the door more quietly than when she had entered. One year. If she had managed to postpone this decision for one year she would have had enough money to do whatever she wanted, society be damned. Her choices now, however, were strictly limited. Marriage to a man she barely knew and to whom she felt no spark of attraction, or go to Richard and accept whatever scraps of affection he was willing to give her. She had no doubt he would set her up in a house in a good area of London, but for how long? How long before he tired of her? She might have her inheritance by then, but she would be forever associated with the members of the demimonde. She wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to handle the shame.
On legs that felt wooden, she crossed the room to sit at her dressing table. She took her writing desk from one of the drawers and went through the motions of setting up the small desk on her dressing table, pulling out a sheet of paper and trimming the point of her quill pen. After dipping it into the ink pot, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the paper. She warred with herself as to how much to tell Richard. In the end, remembering again how happy he’d been to learn she wasn’t with child, she decided it would be best to end things quickly.
“Lord Dearbourne,
I have enjoyed our time together, but I must now think about the future. You will soon hear that I have accepted Mr Stanley’s suit. I expect our marriage will take place before the year is out.
S.”
* * * *
He’d sent her a note later that day and the next, but she’d returned them unopened. On the third day he came himself. She knew she was being a coward, but she couldn’t face him and had the butler tell him she was away from home. He wouldn’t believe it, of course, but he would accept it.
Unable to resist, she stood by her window and watched when he left the house. She felt a pang when he climbed onto his curricle and took hold of the reins, and knew without a doubt that she had done the unthinkable. She’d fallen in love with him. He turned his head then and looked up at her. She could see the tension in him and wanted desperately to go to him. Without any sign of acknowledgement, he turned back to his horses and drove away from the house.
She dreamt that night that, instead of turning away from her, he’d stormed upstairs and demanded from her that which she was so willing to give. They hadn’t taken the time to disrobe. Instead, he’d dragged up her skirts, pushed her against the wall and claimed her with a ruthlessness that had had her body contracting around his in seconds. When she’d woken to find herself alone, she curled up into a tight ball and wept.
* * * *
Between her misery and the fitful dreams that kept her awake, she felt as though she would never again be happy. It was a week after Richard’s visit when she received the final blow. Her aunt took great joy in telling her that Lord Dearbourne had been seen in Hyde Park escorting Lady Wentworth, and
“Oh, you’ll accept. You will accept or you will leave my house today. You forget that you do not come into your inheritance for another year. Without me, you have no one. We both know that while Dearbourne is more than happy to bed you, he would never marry you.”
She flinched at her aunt’s words, knowing they were true.
“If you’re lucky, he might consent to make you his mistress. For a time, anyway. So you have a decision to make. Accept Mr Stanley’s suit or cast yourself away from polite society forever.”
A cold panic settled over Sophie, robbing her of the strength her previous anger had given her.
“Aunt Jane, please don’t do this. Allow me some time to choose someone else—”
“Dress and meet me downstairs in one hour. I will expect your decision then. But know that if you choose to defy me in this, you will be leaving here with nothing.”
Sophie could only watch in despair as her aunt left the room, closing the door more quietly than when she had entered. One year. If she had managed to postpone this decision for one year she would have had enough money to do whatever she wanted, society be damned. Her choices now, however, were strictly limited. Marriage to a man she barely knew and to whom she felt no spark of attraction, or go to Richard and accept whatever scraps of affection he was willing to give her. She had no doubt he would set her up in a house in a good area of London, but for how long? How long before he tired of her? She might have her inheritance by then, but she would be forever associated with the members of the demimonde. She wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to handle the shame.
On legs that felt wooden, she crossed the room to sit at her dressing table. She took her writing desk from one of the drawers and went through the motions of setting up the small desk on her dressing table, pulling out a sheet of paper and trimming the point of her quill pen. After dipping it into the ink pot, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the paper. She warred with herself as to how much to tell Richard. In the end, remembering again how happy he’d been to learn she wasn’t with child, she decided it would be best to end things quickly.
“Lord Dearbourne,
I have enjoyed our time together, but I must now think about the future. You will soon hear that I have accepted Mr Stanley’s suit. I expect our marriage will take place before the year is out.
S.”
* * * *
He’d sent her a note later that day and the next, but she’d returned them unopened. On the third day he came himself. She knew she was being a coward, but she couldn’t face him and had the butler tell him she was away from home. He wouldn’t believe it, of course, but he would accept it.
Unable to resist, she stood by her window and watched when he left the house. She felt a pang when he climbed onto his curricle and took hold of the reins, and knew without a doubt that she had done the unthinkable. She’d fallen in love with him. He turned his head then and looked up at her. She could see the tension in him and wanted desperately to go to him. Without any sign of acknowledgement, he turned back to his horses and drove away from the house.
She dreamt that night that, instead of turning away from her, he’d stormed upstairs and demanded from her that which she was so willing to give. They hadn’t taken the time to disrobe. Instead, he’d dragged up her skirts, pushed her against the wall and claimed her with a ruthlessness that had had her body contracting around his in seconds. When she’d woken to find herself alone, she curled up into a tight ball and wept.
* * * *
Between her misery and the fitful dreams that kept her awake, she felt as though she would never again be happy. It was a week after Richard’s visit when she received the final blow. Her aunt took great joy in telling her that Lord Dearbourne had been seen in Hyde Park escorting Lady Wentworth, and
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