Kitabı oku: «Regency Affairs Part 2: Books 7-12 Of 12», sayfa 18
‘I would hardly go down on one knee unless I was serious.’ His lips turned down and his eyes became shadowed. ‘In light of today’s papers, do you think Putney will stop?’
‘He needs to be exposed.’
‘Others have tried and failed. I refuse to be used as an instrument of your ruin by the likes of him. Equally I refuse to be labelled a cad and have it whispered that I ruin eligible women for sport. Years ago, I made a vow that I would not be used by him to ruin any woman.’ He gave her a resolute look. ‘Marriage is the right and proper thing to do in these circumstances. If I had not asked, it would have weighed on my conscience. It is now up to you to make a decision. I will abide by your choice.’
Sophie stared at the ceiling. The proposal might be real, but he didn’t expect her to accept it. Not truly, not given in such a manner and after last night’s exchange. But did she need the protection of a marriage to save her reputation from Sir Vincent? All she needed was an engagement. Her heart thudded.
‘You suggest a fake engagement until the newspapers lose interest and I can jilt you? Putney is sure to move on when he realises that I am no soft target.’ She pursed her lips, considering. It made complete and utter sense. It would buy her time until the Montemorcys returned and she could get proper advice. She turned around and faced Lord Bingfield, adopting her best social smile. ‘A false engagement should stop comment. Whoever is doing this expects you to run and to leave me ruined, but this way Sir Vincent Putney will be left exposed. Marriage is not the answer, an engagement is.’
His brows knitted together and he seemed genuinely perplexed. ‘A false engagement? One is either engaged to be married or one is not, Miss Ravel. I don’t deal in fakes and deceptions of that nature. Attempting to cozen society is fraught with difficulty.’
‘It is in the novels my stepmother likes to read. They are all the rage.’ Sophie gave him a breezy assurance, but her insides twisted. He made it seem as though she dealt in deception regularly. She didn’t. Sometimes it was easier to give an impression of a certain behaviour for the greater good, that was all. ‘We don’t actually have to marry. Once the furore has died down and Putney is unmasked or quits the neighbourhood, we can part…amicably. Legitimate engagements are ended for all sorts of reasons.’
‘I meant a marriage if it came to it. I knew the risks when I asked. And if you had refused, I would have told the various journalists that my heart was broken by the redoubtable Miss Ravel.’ He inclined his head. ‘I will not pretend instant undying love. I have seen enough of love to know it leads two people who are wholly unsuited to each other to do stupid things. Love has little place in marriage. We might have suited if you had desired it.’
‘We obviously have different views on the subject. I would never have such a cold-blooded thing as an arranged marriage. A happy marriage needs a firm foundation of 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. ‘The press must be such a bother for you, dogging your footsteps. You seem to be a great favourite of theirs.’
‘Most of the stories they print about me have no bearing on reality, my dear Mrs Ravel. I do have my code of honour.’
Her stepmother gave a long sigh.
Sophie rolled her eyes. A few well-chosen words and her 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?’
Chapter Four
Sometimes it was better to know than not to know, Sophie decided as she fastened her earrings, the final detail in tonight’s dress. In the grand scheme of things she would have liked to ask Richard Crawford more about himself and to have set the precise boundaries for their relationship, but she didn’t have time.
She glanced at her stepmother, who was already dressed in her evening finery and hovering behind her, making comments. ‘You will tell me what you know about Lord Bingfield from the scandal sheets.’
‘You should ask your intended about what the scandal sheets have printed over the years, if you want to know. If you had read them before now, you wouldn’t have to ask me. You must do the decent thing and wait for Lord Bingfield to tell you.’
‘Stepmother!’ Sophie turned on the stool and motioned for her maid to leave the room. ‘You may tell me what is bothering you.’
‘It is difficult to understand why you have kept your cards so close to your chest. How well do you know this Lord Bingfield? He does have a reputation for sweeping married women off their feet. There was that Russian countess with the dead husband and a duchess more recently. Possibly there have been more.’
Sophie stood up and fluffed out the upper tier of her skirt. Married women. Women of experience. Not unmarried heiresses. He had not lied about that. He had his code. ‘It is what an engagement is for. A chance to get to know the gentleman in question. I have not married him … yet. If I decide we will not suit, then I have the chance of changing my mind. The item in the newspaper left me few alternatives, Stepmother. Once the gutter press get hold of you, they keep hold. You can remember what Robert said after The Incident.’
‘Sometimes I feel like you are keeping secrets from me. We used to share everything, Sophie, when I first married your father.’
‘You are the one keeping secrets now, Stepmother. You love gossip. Generally I have to block my ears. Tell me something about Lord Bingfield and his family, please. Help me to understand why the press are so interested in him.’
Sophie waited as a variety of emotions warred on her stepmother’s face. If her stepmother would not supply the information, she would go to the Lit and the Phil and spend time looking at old papers to see if she could discover the scandal.
‘Very well, I shall tell you about his parents,’ her stepmother said when Sophie had given up hope. ‘Lord Bingfield’s parents were involved in a massive scandal about twenty years ago. The marchioness ran away with her lover and there was a huge crim. con. case. It was absolutely fascinating and a best seller. Of course they say the marquess never recovered from it. And the marchioness … well … she was never received in polite society again. When Lord Bingfield entered society, everyone was naturally curious, and he didn’t disappoint.’
‘It must have been awful for Lord Bingfield,’ Sophie said. ‘He was a child, the innocent victim of two people’s complicated lives.’
‘He certainly hasn’t been shy about courting scandal in his adult life,’ her stepmother remarked tartly. ‘He must have a list of mistresses as long as your arm. Women seem to forget the sense they were born with around him. There are things which have to come from the other person, my dear, rather than from reading a newspaper.’
‘You know the newspapers do print lies. Robert has told you enough times.’ Sophie tilted her chin upwards. Her stepmother’s revelations were proof enough that she needed to be cautious.
‘Sophie, are you sure you want to marry this man?’ her stepmother asked in a rush. ‘With Robert and Henri out of the country, I feel I must say something. Refuse to be rushed. You can have a long engagement. You don’t need a special licence, an ordinary one will do.’
‘I thought you always wanted me to marry by special licence.’
‘Only if the man is suitable for you.’ Her stepmother gave a long sigh. ‘I don’t know what is wrong with me. This morning when Lord Bingfield was here, I was transported with happiness for you, but I have spent all afternoon staring at Mr Ravel’s portrait and wondering—is this the sort of man your father would have approved of? Is being in the aristocracy worth your ultimate happiness?’
Sophie concentrated on her bare hands, rather than looking at her stepmother’s face. Her stepmother only ever spent time talking to her father’s portrait when she felt overwhelmed. It was tempting to confide in her, but the arrangement would only make her more agitated. And could she trust her stepmother to keep it a secret? Her stepmother had the habit of gossiping with friends. It was far more important to catch Sir Vincent and destroy him. She’d confess later. Her stepmother would understand. Far better to beg forgiveness, than request permission in this case.
Sophie glanced at her stepmother’s kindly face and swallowed. Or at least she hoped her stepmother would understand.
‘I know what I am doing. And it was in all the papers, Stepmother. You know what happened to the Neville girl. She was banned from court and that was fifteen years ago. Once the gutter press get hold of you, they do not let go.’
‘Do you know about his finances? Such men can be dreadfully let in the pockets. You remember Lord Cawburn. He tried to rush you and it was only through Henri’s intervention that your reputation emerged unscathed. Now, this business with the newspapers … Could he …? That is to say, Lord Bingfield has much to gain.’
‘Lord Bingfield is not trying to rush me. We are engaged because the gutter press demanded a robust response. There is little point in denying the rumour as Lord Bingfield was prepared to do the honourable thing. I refused to do anything irrevocable without a proper settlement.’ Sophie patted her stepmother’s hand.
Everything would work out if her scheme was allowed to happen. There had to be a simple way of trapping Sir Vincent and then saying goodbye to Richard Crawford before she started liking him too much. They were allies only because they faced a common enemy, not because they shared a mutual understanding or finer feelings.
‘You have eased my mind.’ Her stepmother took her mother’s single pearl and undid the clasp before fastening it around Sophie’s neck. ‘I hope you are not doing this just to please me. All I have ever wanted for you is to be happy.’
A tiny prickle of fear went through Sophie. What if they didn’t succeed in trapping Sir Vincent? She pushed it away. They had to win. ‘And if I can’t do that within society?’
‘Your father worked his entire life to ensure his daughter would be gentry. You won’t dishonour your father’s memory.’
‘Trust me, please. I am all grown up. I’ve survived three seasons since Lord Cawburn without incident.’
‘It is what makes this situation so strange. I don’t understand how you could have met a man such as Lord Bingfield without me knowing.’ Her stepmother stepped back. ‘There, pretty as a picture. I do wish your father had lived to see you triumphant and in love.’
Sophie straightened her blouse. With her favourite pair of earrings, and the cream ball gown with cascades of lace, she was armed for battle.
Sir Vincent was not going to get away with his scheme and he wasn’t going to be allowed to wreck anyone else’s life. She simply had to figure out how to feed him information which would incriminate him before she did truly become besotted with Richard Crawford. She had to remember that above all things she had to keep her heart safe. Men who were not safe in carriages were best handled at arm’s length, rather than offering up her lips at the earliest opportunity. Boundaries were required and it was up to her to set them.
She reached for her tortoise-shell fan and ignored the way her lips ached in memory of that kiss. Kissing complicated matters. They might be posing as an engaged couple, but it did not mean he had any finer feelings or regard for her. She was a means to an end.
One last glance in the mirror told her everything she needed to know. The dress was passable, but she looked far too excited. And she was excited, excited about the possibility of beating Sir Vincent, rather than seeing Richard Crawford.
‘Shall we go? I feel capable of achieving great things tonight.’
Richard drew in his breath as Sophie walked down the stairs. Tonight she was the perfect epitome of a redoubtable ice princess rather than a woman in distress. Her blonde hair was immaculate and the bodice of her ball dress skimmed the tops of her breasts. A single pearl nestled in the hollow of her throat. But for all her finery, he could see the nerves underneath—the slight hesitation on the last step, the pinched way she held her mouth and the way she clutched her gloves until her knuckles shone white. Sophie was less certain about tonight’s piece of playacting than she wanted to be.
He had a great longing to throw her over his shoulder, and take her somewhere where he could protect her. But tonight was necessary for more than one reason. Not only would he demonstrate to Putney that seeking revenge on Sophie in this manner was doomed to failure, but he would also provide the perfect excuse for any visit to Newcastle. His father would understand the need to pursue an heiress far better than Richard’s need to be part of his mother and sister’s life.
‘You look exquisite,’ he said when Sophie reached the bottom of the stairs.
‘It is last Season’s dress and the sleeves didn’t alter as well I wanted them to, but I like the shape of the skirt too much.’
‘You sew your own clothes?’ Richard struggled to think of a woman of his acquaintance who would admit it. The last one was probably Mary. His mind moved firmly away from that memory. He was not going to start liking Sophie Ravel. He only became friends with women after he no longer desired them. To allow a woman into his heart and his whole life was to invite her to abandon him. It was not going to happen to him as it had happened to his father. He was the one who left first, before his heart became involved.
‘Only alterations. I want perfection and my stepmother ensured my accomplishments included both fine sewing and the making of clothes.’ Her smile lit the hallway. ‘One has to be practical. A dress can easily be made over into the latest fashion. I never want to disappoint.’
‘You won’t do that.’ He reached into the pocket of his evening coat. ‘But you are missing one thing.’
She glanced down. ‘I believe I have everything. Slippers, reticule, fan and gloves.’
‘A ring.’
Her cheeks flamed. ‘I … I hadn’t considered it necessary. Not for tonight.’
His heart gave an odd wrench. It was ironic. Normally he was the one who put limits on his relationships with women, but this time it was Sophie. He’d seen the ring at the jewellers and knew it would be the one thing to give her confidence. ‘How else will people know we are engaged?’
‘A notice in the papers?’ Her laugh rang hollow.
Richard held on to his temper. He wanted to murder the man who had made her so distrustful. She should try trusting him. He wanted to prove to her that he could solve their difficulty.
‘Hold out your finger and stop being awkward. It will remind you that you belong to me if you are tempted to waltz with any divine dancer. No flirting with any other man.’
She held out her hand and he slipped on the ring, a pearl flanked by two sapphires. She twisted her hand back and forth. ‘It is very pretty and it fits. I never flirt, Lord Bingfield. It goes against my nature.’
He allowed the remark to pass. He had seen a glimpse of the passionate woman underneath her frosty exterior and wanted to see her again. ‘I saw it in a jeweller’s window this afternoon and guessed your size. Sapphires for your eyes. It suits your hand.’
‘It is elegant rather than showy.’ Sophie tilted her chin upwards. ‘It is the sort of ring I would have chosen … if asked.’
‘I will remember for the future.’
‘You mean you don’t intend for her to have the family jewels?’ Mrs Ravel asked with a suspicious glance at the ring as she came to stand guard over Sophie. ‘I would have thought the fiancée of a viscount deserved something better.’
Richard gave a quick glance at Sophie, who shrugged. She had obviously failed to confide in her stepmother about the false engagement as he’d expected her to do after he left. Intriguing.
‘Engagement rings have an unfortunate past in my family. With your stepdaughter, I thought it best to break with tradition.’ Richard made a bow. ‘Should Sophie wish it, she may of course exchange it for another.’
‘And the family jewels? I presume there are some. There again, the family jewels are always the first to go. Several women I know were palmed off with paste.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘You can always tell.’
‘Honestly, Stepmother! I explained that Lord Bingfield is not let in the pockets.’
Richard controlled his temper. The pair had obviously dealt with a fortune hunter before. Could he be the one responsible for Sophie’s caution? A stab of jealousy went through him. He wished … Richard pushed the thought away. He never speculated on a woman’s past. Ever.
