This meant her father had been expecting them, which in turn meant that they’d arranged this meeting prior to the ball. Ergo, it couldn't be with regard to anything she’d done while there.
She tried to swallow, but it felt like there was a lump in her throat, and it hurt.
“What is this about?” she asked, freezing in the doorway.
Her father ran a hand through his thick gray hair and gestured for her to sit on one of the two chairs opposite him.Her mother sank onto one and, reluctantly, Sophie crossed to the other. Her posture remained rigid, her legs tensed—although whether to flee or fight, she wasn’t sure. She got the impression this situation would call for one or the other.
“You’re scaring me,” she said when neither of them spoke.
Her father’s features softened, his blue eyes a mirror of her own. “This is your third season, Sophie.”
“Y-yes,” she stammered, a wave of cold washing over her. She dug her fingertips into her palms and kept her chin up. “What of it?”
His lips twitched as if he might smile, but it never materialized. “After the debacle with your sisters, your mother and I rethought our approach to finding you a suitable husband. We wanted to give you the time and leeway to choose your own from among the eligible members of theton.”
“And I appreciate that very much.” Her voice was breathy, betraying her nerves. “I know I’m fortunate to have your understanding.”
Her parents exchanged a glance.
“Unfortunately, Sophie, we can only be so lenient. Much longer, and you’ll be considered on the shelf by those you might wish to marry. Many gentlemen already believe that you aren’t a viable option to take as their wife because you have turned down every offer presented to you so far.” He grimaced, his mustache ruffling. “They think you hold yourself in too high regard.”
“That isn’t true!” she protested, springing to her feet.
He gestured for her to sit, but she refused. He sighed. “I know that, and so does your mother, but the gentlemen of thetondo not. Your options will dwindle the longer you wait, so we’ve come to a difficult decision.”
Her blood rushed in her ears and tears stung her eyes. “What, pray tell, is that?”
He inhaled deeply and set his jaw. “The season is half over. You have until its end to choose a suitable husband ofyour own. If you do not, we will compile a list of options, and you will marry one of them. Do you understand?”
Sophie blanched and swayed from foot to foot. “N-no. You can’t do that.”
Any man on their list would not be Nicholas.
Therefore she couldn’t marry them.
Not without being miserable.
Her parents wouldn’t make her go through with this, surely.
“I’m afraid we must,” Lord Carlisle said grimly. “I’m sorry, Sophie.”
What on earth was she supposed to do now?
CHAPTER 4
“A letter for you, Mr. Blackwell,”Albert said, bowing slightly as he presented it to Nicholas.
“Thank you.” Nicholas took it from the portly butler, eyeing the crest warily. It was either a letter from his former lover, Lady Julianne Bright, or a missive from her husband.
Either way, he didn’t look forward to opening it.
Albert left silently, and Nicholas carried the letter to his desk and used an ornate letter opener to break the seal. He skimmed the neat calligraphy and sighed.
Indeed, it was an invitation from Julianne to join her at a notorious masked ball hosted by the wealthy bastard son of an earl.
Once upon a time, Nicholas might have been excited by such an invitation, but now, when he searched within himself, all he found was a kernel of dread and a heavy sensation in his gut.
For some reason, he’d grown tired of the thrill he used to get from engaging in liaisons with beautiful women. He was especially wary of Julianne. She’d been widowed when they’d first fallen into bed together, but she’d since remarried, and Lord Bright was a decent sort.
