Sophia’s family would be required to return any funds they’d accepted, with penalties and interest, most likely. Funds of which, Dev was quite certain, the family would not have.
His uncle would be livid. The scandal, the talk, the rumors would force Harold to flee England.
Goddamn, but Sophia was caught between a rock and a hard place.
And, guilt pricked at him, he’d only made the situation more untenable for her. By wooing her, by telling her they could have more…
Except that, she would have discovered the truth eventually. She’d been bound for heartache from the moment she accepted Harold’s proposal, hadn’t she? Dev felt sick at heart.
She deserved none of this.
He’d watched her withdraw into herself after intermission. And for one of the first times in his life, he’d felt utterly helpless. He was a man of action. A man who could jump in and fix any situation. Could he call out her father? Could he call out Harold, his uncle? Would Sophia even want him to?
He had no idea. None of this made sense to an honorable man. But it was the way of theton,the way his uncle would address Harold’sinclinations. It involved choices far beyond himself, choices only Sophia could make. Or Harold. Except the choices were limited now for both of them, and the repercussions quite unthinkable.
When she’d acquiesced so easily to Harold’s demand that the wedding date be moved up, Dev had wanted to shake her.
And yet he’d understood.
He would wish to have this conversation with Sophia, but as that was currently not an option, he turned to Harold, took a deep breath, and began looking for some solutions. “What do you want to do, Harry?”
* * *
After Cecily’sdebacle of a marriage, Sophia thought she’d never see anything worse.
On the couple’s wedding night, seconds after divesting Cecily of her virtue, Lord Kensington had stood over her as he dressed and told her that he did not love her — just like that.
He’d only married her for her father’s money.
And that was what confused Sophia about her own engagement.
If — and it was becoming an especially bigif— Lord Harold did, in fact, love her, why had he felt the need to be so highhanded, and yet generous, with such unconventional marriage contracts?
And why all the secrecy? And the trickery?
She would march over to Prescott House this very moment and demand answers if it would not be so exceptionally outrageous. But she could not. A lady simply did not show up at the doorstep of a gentleman, even if he was her fiancé.
She tossed and turned all night. Just one week ago, she’d been so happy about her engagement! Now everything had changed! Was it because Captain Brookes had kissed her? She’d done nothing to put him off! Likely she deserved this!
Or was she fretting over nothing?
Would any of this have made any difference if she’d never met Lord Harold’s cousin?
Oh, fiddlesticks! She wished Cecily were here, and Emily and Rhoda.
At least she could see Rhoda tomorrow, and Lord Harold, if at all possible. She must attempt to have an honest discussion with him.
She’d likely not see Captain Brookes again for quite some time. If ever. Even though he was Lord Harold’s cousin.
When the sun finally crept over the horizon, Sophia donned a well-used bonnet and one of her older day dresses. She ignored the closet full of newer gowns. They represented the sordid nature of her engagement. She felt sickened at the thought of wearing them.
They’d not been purchased with her stepfather’s money, but with her fiancé’s family’s money.
And she could not help but think of it as the money that had bought and paid for herself.
Tiptoeing down the corridor carrying Peaches, she hoped to escape the house with nobody being the wiser. But Mr. Carstairs, her father’s ancient retainer, bowed upon catching sight of her and offered to summon a maid.
Sophia waved his concerns away. “I’m to meet with Miss Mossant, and she will have her maid with her,” she told him. “I will wait outside.”
