Mama fell back against the cushions as a flood of tears cascaded down her cheeks. A small pile of used handkerchiefs were piled beside her. “Roxboro has discarded you before all of London.”
“No, Mama. He—”
Her mother collapsed, face first on the settee, holding up a hand to silence Sophia. “Not another word. I am prostrate with grief over the loss of Mara’s future.” Then she added as an afterthought. “And your own.”
How does my father tolerate such nonsense?
Thankfully, at that moment, Lord Canterbell appeared at the entrance of the drawing room, took one look at his wife weeping into the cushions, and exchanged a resigned look with Sophia. Taking a seat on the settee, Papa pulled Mama upright and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“Stop your weeping, dear. It isn’t good for your fragile constitution.”
Fragile? Mama?
“I do apologize I didn’t come to you directly upon my return, but—”
“A pariah,” Mama screeched. “That’s what will become of Sophia, my lord. Roxboro has refused and now we must make other plans. We must go to France.” Mama nodded. “Mara would make a fine comtesse and Sophia might wed a…titled gentleman of some import.”
Sophia took a large bite of a scone, chewing as loudly as possible.
“None of that will be necessary.” Father patted Mama’s hand in a soothing manner. “Sophia will not become a pariah. She’ll be a duchess.”
Mama stopped weeping and dabbed at her eyes. “You mean—”
“That’s right, darling. We won’t have to send her to a convent. Roxboro will be honorable.”
“A convent,” Sophia choked, looking between her parents. “Had that been considered?”
“Now, I apologize, my lady, for not coming to you sooner with the news,” Papa continued, ignoring Sophia. “But I thought it best to visit the solicitor immediately so that the marriage contract can be prepared for Lord Damon’s perusal tomorrow.”
“You’re serious—you were going to send me to aconvent?” Sophia demanded. “Force me to become a nun?”
“Well, yes, Sophia,” Mama regarded her shrewdly. “We were considering our options. Running away to France. Or…Brussels. A convent, perhaps.” She threw up her hands. “You should have told me Roxboro capitulated the very second you arrived home. Cruel of you to allow me to believe otherwise.”
“But I tried—”
“Let your father speak.” A gloved palm appeared before Sophia’s face. “Allowing me to believe the duke had refused. Howcouldyou?”
Sophia opened her mouth, then just as quickly pressed her lips together. She would not win this battle. Not with Mama.
“The duke was…not receiving when Sophia and I first arrived at his home, therefore, we went to Lord Damon Viceroy, his uncle. Once I explained matters to him,” that note of steel entered Papa’s voice. “He and I were in complete agreement.” He looked down at the newspaper, eyes moving as he scanned the article. “I see Lady Brokeburst wasted no time at all.”
“She called upon me, my lord. Brought me the newspaper. I’m sure she whisked it off the press herself, barely waiting for the ink to dry. Couldn’t wait to show it to me.”
“It matters not. Roxboro will be honorable. The marriage contract is being drafted. Lady Brokeburst will look like the unwelcome gossip she is once word gets out that Roxboro and Sophia have been courting in secret.”
Mama gasped. Her hands clapped together. “Truly? A welcomealternative to intoxicated ruination.”
“The banns will be posted. The marriage within the month. There will be no one to gainsay our tale of a courtship.”
The scone nearly fell from Sophia’s mouth. “The end of the month?”
“Lady Brokeburst will look like a great fool.” Papa squeezed her mother’s hand. “Lord Damon knows what is at stake.” Papa’s eyes gleamed with absolute authority. Conviction. This was the Lord Canterbell so many feared. Damon Viceroy had been threatened in the most polite, subtle way in order to ensure Roxboro would wed Sophia and agree to the ridiculous tale of a secret betrothal.
“Roxboro had the audacity to claim he didn’t attend the Perswick ball, probably in a bid to ignore taking liberties with our daughter.” Papa growled. “The sot.”
“It was only a kiss,” Sophia whispered to no one in particular. A less than inspiring one.
“But I saw him myself,” Mama gasped to her father. “There isn’t any mistaking Roxboro, though, he did seem…less well turned out than usual. I’ve never seen him appear so slovenly. His formal attire left much to be desired. Far too handsome for his own good with that goblet of wine dangling from his hand. Despite his reputation, I suppose that is why you went into the gardens with him.”
