‘And yet, it doesn’t matter who I thought you were, only that you’re here now and you’ve shattered your own reputation to achieve it. Why would you do such a thing? Your dream of making an advantageous love match lies in tatters, while Aurelia sleeps soundly in her bed. No self-respecting gentleman will make you an offer if they think I’ve had first dibs,’ he added roughly.
‘How dare you!’ Sophie gasped in outrage. ‘I only intended to try and save Aurelia from making a huge mistake, and no lady, not even Mrs Haxby, should be addressed in such a manner.’
‘It’s the hard truth, you little fool!’ Lord Rotherby blazed.
Sophie eyeballed the hostile rake for a few moments with vehement dislike, before trusting herself to speak.
‘I’ve been gone for less than a day,’ she said, ignoring the wave of fear the words generated in the pit of her stomach. ‘If I’m back by dinner, I can say I’ve been with a sick relative. My aunt will?—’
‘You left London, in my chaise, at midnight!’ he growled. ‘By now, most of your household will be breakfasting and you will be distinctly absent! And if I know the female mind at all, you will have toldsomeoneyou were slipping out to help a friend– or some other such incriminating thing.’
Sophie flushed instantly, recalling the brief conversation she’d had with Matilda along very similar lines.
‘Precisely,’ Lord Rotherby said, nodding with dangerous calm. ‘Which means whoever you have told will have announced your intentions at breakfast this morning, prompting your fond relatives to make your absence known to all their friends in Mayfair by now. It will take a matter of seconds for Lady Aurelia to work out what has happened and turn it to her advantage. Do you really not know the character of your friend? She would never protect you, especially if there is a scandal to be created from it!’
Sophie suppressed a shiver as she pointed the small crossbow in the weak morning light, her chest pounding.
‘So much for winning the wager, Miss Fairfax,’ he added, taking a step forwards. ‘You’ve won nothing except a lifetime of regret.’
Briefly, she stared at Lord Rotherby’s hard eyes and noble lips curling in contempt, wondering how she ever allowed herself to be distracted in Almack’s. He was the rudest, most obnoxious man of her acquaintance– which only made his correct assessment of her situation all the more galling. By now, Matilda would have told Aunt Higglestone, who, never known for her restraint, would have alerted half of breakfasting London. There would be no easy return without a fictional account of epic proportions, and no guarantee Aurelia hadn’t hijacked her chances already.
Yet she couldn’t accept any alternative either. She clenched her fingers, and wracked her brain for an answer. Perhaps she could return to Knightswood with her sisters for a while, or at least until the scandal subsided.
‘Come, come,’ Lord Rotherby muttered testily after a beat. ‘It’s not quite as terrible as you might think. If I were the heinous rake you believe me to be, I’d undoubtedly leave you here in Dover to make your own way back and face the music, but I am a Rotherby and, as all this is one huge, calamitous mistake, I am honour-bound to offer you my protection. Your actions this night might leave you few options, but your reputation will not be tarnished at my hand.’
‘Your protection?’ Sophie blazed furiously. ‘I would rather employ the protection of your dubious tiger who, I hasten to add, also has the manners of a jungle cat.’
‘A jungle cat?’ Lord Rotherby repeated with a harsh bark of laughter. ‘Poor Horace will be heartbroken, for he was quite taken with you!’ Sophie tensed as he loosened his cravat and took another step forward, closing the distance between them. ‘You must understand you have inflicted this situation upon both of us with your ramshackle and foolish intentions,’ he challenged furiously. ‘Which means you may not wish for my company, and the Lord knows I won’t force it upon you, but our lots have fallen together and we?—’
‘Take one more step and I swear I’ll fire!’ she growled, training the crossbow on his waistcoat’s topmost gleaming button.
His lordship pulled up in surprise.
‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’ he returned scathingly. ‘You know, I really am quite regretful that I won’t see the outcome of our wager, for I do believe you are that rare combination of spirit, accomplishment and beauty one so seldom sees among today’s debutantes. In truth, I also believed you might achieve that love match of yours, and that it would be well deserved, but now you will have to make do with me instead. Alas, it is truly a poor exchange.’
‘I am not interested in your regret, or your fake laments,’ Sophie ground out, keeping her aim steady, ‘any more than I am interested in being aboard your ridiculous yacht one second longer?—’
‘Be that as it may, youarehere,’ he interrupted, exhaling frustratedly.
‘And you must have known the risk you were taking the moment you let me kiss you,’ he added, his eyes darkening suddenly.
‘I did notlet you!’ Sophie rattled, trying to catch her breath. ‘And if you didn’t drive like the devil, I wouldn’t be standing here now.’
‘I have a reputation to uphold!’ he threw. ‘And I was keen to reach Dover.’
Sophie shivered despite herself, the sudden heat of his kiss flooding her mind. She flushed as a sardonic smile flickered across his face, and she was sure he was recalling exactly the same moment.
‘Besides which, that silver crossbow is ornamental, you little fool,’ he added a little less roughly. ‘An expensive trinket, but no more. You may keep it if you wish, but it is no more a weapon than your sister’s infamous epée!’
Sophie caught her breath as Lord Rotherby’s eyes gleamed with cold humour. Yet all she could think was that he’d ridiculed her beloved sister– and that was her right alone.
‘My sister, sir, is a viscountess!’ she hissed, inadvertently squeezing the crossbow in her fury.
It was already too late when she heard the tiny click, releasing a small, determined arrow that flew directly at Lord Rotherby’s upper arm. And when it sank, they both stared at the silver shaft protruding through his shirt in momentary silence, before Sophie let out the loudest shriek of all her eighteen years.
‘Surely it is I who should be yelling?’ Lord Rotherby said testily. ‘You don’t have an absurd toy protruding from your arm!'
‘It’s not an absurd toy,’ Sophie wailed, with a look of stricken grief. ‘I shot you! I shot you with a crossbow!’ she sobbed. ‘And now look at your ruffled French silk shirt…’
