Ah, so the chit was in love with someone; well, all for the better. It meant she wouldn’t fall in love with him before they were able to disentangle themselves from this mess. ‘Do you have a prior understanding with someone?’
There was a long pause, which confirmed that she did not. He’d feel sorry for her if she wasn’t being the most frustrating woman he’d ever had the misfortune of meeting.
‘He is unaware of my affections at present, but…’
‘But,’ he interrupted, seeing a way out of this stalemate, ‘this pretend engagement will help. Trust me, men want what they cannot have. Whoever he is, the man will be crazy with jealousy that he did not move more quickly to secure your hand.’
Even though Christopher was partly saying it to move the situation along, he did believe what he was saying. He might have no intention of marrying and no interest in seducing innocents, but he would have to be blind not to notice that Miss Jacobs was blessed with particular good looks. Long lashes framed dark eyes above high cheekbones. Her lips were full and looked ripe for kissing. Any man would be a fool not to want her. With any luck, this man, whoever he was, would elope with her, thereby saving Christopher from a fate worse than death.
From somewhere close by, a shrill voice said, ‘If she does not marry him, no other man will want her.’
Standing as close to Sophia as he was, he saw those words hitting her as hard as if she had received a physical blow. The slow dawning across her face that there was no easy way out of this was painful to watch. He saw the second she realised she had no other option but to agree with him. Normally, he loved to be proven right, but there was no victory this time, only the grim awareness that life was about to get a lot more complicated.
Chapter Two
Brandy was a drink for men, so strong, they drank it without the presence of women around them. Not once in her one and twenty years had Sophia Jacobs thought to break the rules and taste it. Not, that is, until tonight. After the grand announcement of her sudden change in circumstances, during which the entire ballroom had stopped to stare at her and Lord Christopher, a man she had never once had the desire to speak to let alone marry, Sophia had grabbed her best friend, Tabitha, by the hand and dragged her from the ballroom. Wending their way through the large townhouse, they’d stumbled across Beauvarlet’s library, a dimly lit room with large comfortable settees for curling up with a good book.
Sophia had ignored those and had headed straight to a tray which contained many interestingly shaped bottles and cut crystal glasses.
‘Do you think that is wise?’ asked Tabitha, watching as Sophia poured herself a large measure from one of the bottles.
Her eyes watered as she brought the drink closer, but she did not stop, not even when the liquid burned her throat as it went down.
All her life she’d been well-behaved, following the rules as befitting a young woman of her status, while her younger sisters came close to breaking them all the time. Well, as life had kicked her in the stomach, she was throwing caution to the wind. What she was doingright now was definitely inappropriate; it may also count as theft, but who really cared? She’d already weathered one scandal this evening; it could not get much worse. A whole lifetime of following the rules and look where it had got her: into an absolute disaster, that was where.
‘It is delicious,’ Sophia lied; she’d never been one for alcohol. She did not like the taste nor how it changed someone’s personality. Her family got even louder and more confusing after a glass or two of wine and that was something she preferred to avoid at the best of times. ‘Would you like some? We should celebrate my engagement.’
‘I am finding this all quite hard to understand. How is it that you are engaged to Lord Christopher? I would not have thought you and he would have a single thing in common.’
Her best friend stared at her, a small frown marring her forehead. Sophia could understand her confusion; the betrothal wasn’t something she had been expecting either and certainly not to a man who took nothing seriously. Being married to someone as chaotic as he would be like marrying into her own family, admittedly without the incest. Life would be loud and tumultuous; everything that she wanted to move away from. There had to be a way out of it. There had to be something she could do to put a stop to it, but she could think of nothing that would not be ruinous for herself and for her family.
‘It all happened rather quickly.’
‘But… but, it does not fit in with The Plan.’
‘No. You are quite right, it does not.’ Sophia took another sip of brandy, the strong flavour coating the inside of her mouth. ‘It is very far removed from The Plan. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the events of this evening have destroyed it, no matter what Lord Christopher thinks.’ Her heart began to race again, so she took a long, long sip of the brandy. Her stomach warmed as the liquid hit it, reminding her that she had not eaten in hours. ‘I wish you had arrivedat the ball earlier, Tabitha. This whole thing may have been averted if you had been around to talk some sense into me.’
‘I wish I had arrived here sooner too. I would not have missed the drama. What is it like? The brandy that is, not the engagement. We will get to that in a bit.’
‘It is horrid.’ She took another long sip. ‘But I do believe I feel slightly less sick than when I began, so I am not going to stop.’ Her glass was nearly empty. She had no idea how strong brandy was, but it was certainly helping to keep the panic at bay. The library had taken on soft edges, as though everything was coated in a layer of wool. The sensation was decidedly more pleasant than the sharp, alarming world she had been living in before the brandy had hit her bloodstream. ‘Would you like some?’
Tabitha was even more straight-laced than she was, so Sophia was surprised when her friend took the proffered glass and took an unladylike glug. ‘Ooh,’ she spluttered, her whole body shuddering. ‘That really is quite disgusting. I cannot understand why men like it as much as they do.’ She took another long sip. ‘It is truly revolting.’
Before Tabitha could finish Sophia’s drink, she took it back from her. ‘There is another glass over there. You could have your own.’
‘That does not sound like a good idea. At least one of us should remain level-headed.’ But Tabitha was making her way over to the tray, selecting her own drinking vessel and pouring some of the golden liquid into it. Sophia joined her, refilling her glass so that liquid was spilling over the top. Not pausing to consider her unladylike behaviour, she leaned down and sipped up the top, marvelling at herself at how quickly her personality could change. This was what men like Lord Christopher did. They made you break the rules. That he wasn’t in the room with them didn’t matter. Tabitha and she would never have sneaked off from a ball and drunk the houseowner’s private supply of brandy before. Yet, less than an hour after becoming engaged to him, she was doing just that.
When they both had full glasses, they settled on the floor, the bottle of brandy between them so they would not have to get up again, their backs to shelves of books. They ignored the cushioned chairs in favour of the hard ground. It seemed fitting after everything else that had happened. It was yet another flouting of the rules, but Sophia could not find it in herself to care.
‘Tell me everything,’ said Tabitha.
‘My sister, Marrisa that is, not Annie, Georgie or Cressida’—as the last three were not out yet, that part should have been obvious, but nothing was clear any more—’decided a few days ago that she is going to marry the Duke of Glanmore.’
Tabitha tapped the edge of her glass. ‘Does he know?’
‘As far as I can gather, he has no idea that she exists. You know what Marrisa is like. Once she has set her mind to something, she is tenacious until she moves on to her next big thing.’ Sophia loved her sister, but she’d be the first to admit that Marrisa had a butterfly mind, flitting from one beautiful idea to another. ‘Last week, she saw him at a ball and liked the way his shoulders filled out his jacket. You would not believe the number of times I have heard her describe him to me. It has reached the point where I almost feel as if I saw it for myself.’
‘As good a reason as any to get married.’
