“I don’t even like her,” he hissed. “Not at all.”
Chapter Eight
“Scotland is lovelythis time of year, I understand. The solitude would be good for me.” Sophia would even make a go at the vow of silence, though doubted that would last. “I can tend sheep. Or bees. Churn butter.” She tried to picture herself doing so in a serene country setting. “Maybe learn to weave.”
Mama pinched the bridge of her nose.
“And after a few years, I can leave and retire to the country. Forever. I vow to never return to London.” She’d never cared overmuch for society or the Season. Paying calls and attending balls was fine but monotonous. Only the bookstores and museums held her interest. “In a year or so, no one will remember you had a younger daughter. Mara’s reputation won’t be infringed upon in the least. Roxboro would be relieved. As would Lord Damon.” She gestured towards her sister as she walked into the drawing room. “Mara’s prospects would remain forever untainted.”
Her sister glided into the drawing room, skirts belling out about her trim ankles as if she were floating. Sailing directly to the settee, Mara fluffed out her skirts in a fetching manner as she settled against the pillows. Back straight. Chin tilted at exactly the correct angle. An entire stack of books could be placed atop Mara’s head, and the tomes would be in no danger of falling.
She really is absolute perfection.
“Don’t be absurd,” Mama replied. “You’d make a terrible nun.You’ve not an ounce of humility, Sophia. Now, do something with your gown.” She waved a finger. “Emulate Mara. See how she places the folds of her skirts about her to make it seem as if she’s sitting in a flower?”
Sophia half-heartedly waved the silk folds of her gown about her, trying to imitate Mara, but failed miserably.
Mama sighed. “Stop. You look like a floundering fish.”
“I could learn humility. I can be pious. I’ve always liked livestock.”
“We are not sending you to a convent. Or the country. Goodness, the banns have been read. The church reserved. Invitations to the event have already gone out. You are to be a duchess, which I find more unbelievable than anyone else.”
“I could end the betrothal,” Sophia offered, her desperation apparent. “I would put no blame on Roxboro. Things merely didn’t work out.”
“Roxborocould end the betrothal and if he did, the shame would fall upon you as a discarded young lady. He would survive because he’s a duke, but not you, Sophia.”
Absolutely unfair.
“Mama’s right,” Mara chirped. “You must wed Roxboro, or else things will go poorly for you, Sophia. Just yesterday as I walked in the park, I came across Miss Newsome.” Her sister made a face. “Who made a rather impolite comment about you and Roxboro.”
“What was it?” Sophia had a general idea. The talk hadn’t been complimentary towards her. Also, the park brought to mind the ill-fated carriage ride with Roxboro. A painful outing which was nothing more than an indication of the future that awaited her. She and Roxboro had said terrible things to each other that day, all of which, Roxboro deserved. He blamed her for this entire mess, insisting he hadn’t been at the Perswick ball, and that even if he had, Sophia took advantage of the situation because he was foxed.
Good god, he’s always foxed.
“Well,” Mara fluffed the pillow beside her. “All of London knowsRoxboro drinks overmuch. You weren’t oblivious—it doesn’t matter,” Mara hurriedly added after a pointed look from Mama.
“You think I orchestrated my own ruination to become a duchess?” Sophia nearly choked on the words. “Because he drinks too much?”
“Of course not, dear,” Mama said in a soothing tone.
“I would never,” Sophia insisted. “You truly believe I would deliberately lead him out, completely intoxicated, for the sole purpose of ruination? Because I want to be his duchess?” She threw up her hands. “I’ve been begging for weeks to be released from this betrothal. For goodness sakes, I’m begging to become a nun.”
“It isn’t what I think, Sophia,” Mara said, in a condescending tone. “Ibelieve you, of course.”
No she didn’t.
“Miss Newsome is only jealous,” Mara continued. “She’s had her eyes on Roxboro for some time, despite his reputation. Always crowing about how a good woman could set him to rights and that reformed rakes make the best husbands. I gave her a brilliant set-down by insulting her bonnet.”
“You’re such a dear to defend your sister.” Mama nodded in approval.
Insulting her bonnet.What was next? Disdaining her shawl?
“I would have blackened her eye,” Sophia fumed. She had never cared for Miss Newsome. Turning her gaze to the window where a large elm sat directly outside, she tried to calm her raging thoughts. The branches swayed in the wind, leaves fluttering about.
“Oh, Sophia.” Mama took her hand. “You’ve done nothing your entire life but thumb your nose at the rest of the world. Perhaps it is time to try a different tactic. I don’t know what compels you to behave in such an obstinate manner. You will have a distant, if amicable marriage to Roxboro, which frankly, is how most marriages in society are conducted. You’ll find your own interests. Have a great deal offreedom as a duchess. Besides, he’s bound to tumble down the stairs after too much brandy or scotch one night.”
“I wish you would stop saying such things, Mama.” It was rather disturbing how often her mother claimed Roxboro would meet an early demise.
