Page 53 of A Stranger’s Gamble

He scowled. “I am not so weak-minded as to fall for that line of drivel. I will not have you grow old alone.”

“I have Beatrice,” she said.

He pinned her with a stare. “Would you have her give up the love of a good man and children just to keep you company?”

Sophie blinked. She hadn’t given any real thought to Beatrice’s future. How had she grown so selfish? Beatrice deserved happiness. But that didn’t mean Sophie had to marry a man who only wanted her father’s money. She looked at the marriage contract. The heading read:

Clarke and Osborn Esq.

They would know where to find Lord Monthemer.

Sophie returned to her room to find Beatrice stoking the fire. Beatrice turned as she entered and clasped her hands in front of her.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night, Bea?” Sophie asked.

“It was very kind of Lady Seafield to include me in the festivities, miss,” Beatrice replied.

Sophie might have been able to argue her father’s logic that Beatrice wanted a young man, if not for the heightened color in her cheek. She had clearly enjoyed the male attention she’d received last night. In truth, Sophie didn’t need Beatrice to confirm that fact. Sophie had seen her on the dance floor last night. Beatrice had tried to hide her feelings then, as she was now, but she had glowed.

Sophie sat on the chair near the window. “Lady Seafield is very kind to have included you in the festivities.”

“Your aunt said she is taking you shopping today.” Beatrice went to the armoire and began looking through Sophie’s clothes.

Sophie had been a fool to see a future with just Beatrice and her. Her father was right, of course—at least on that score. How did she feel about being alone for the rest of her life? She didn’t know. She was still young. Might she meet someone who made her want to remarry? Adam rose in memory, tall, ridiculously handsome—and childish. Perhaps not childish. Lord Emerson had been forward. Any more forward than Adam had been in the garden? Her insides gelled with the memory of his warm mouth on hers—and his hard body pressed so intimately against hers. What a shame Adam wasn’t in the market for a wife. Or was he?

Heaven help her. She’d lost her mind. She had to stay on track.

The way she saw things, she had three problems. How to convince Lord Monthemer that he didn’t want to marry her. Find Beatrice a nice young man. Then Sophie would deal with her father once she convinced Lord Monthemer he didn’t want to marry her. But Lord Monthemer had decided he did want to marry her—sight unseen. She found that strange, but everything about the man seemed strange.

Instead of convincing Lord Monthemer that he didn’t want to marry her, she had to show her father that the marquess was not the honest, upstanding man her father thought him to be.

The day dragged on. They were to attend a dinner that night with a group of Aunt Maddie’s friends. No doubt, Sophie’s father and aunt would announce Sophie’s engagement to Lord Monthemer and by morning the news would be all over Edinburgh. There was only one way to put a stop to her father’s schemes. She had to marry. If she was going to be forced into marriage, it wouldn’t be with some old man who wanted her only for her father’s money and whose touch was probably even colder than Matthew’s had been.

She had given the matter thought. She couldn’t hurt Adam by using him to make Lord Monthemer think she was a loose woman, but she could marry him. Adam was being let go, and he seemed to have no other prospects. At least she knew she could tolerate him. Tolerate him? She still hadn’t been able to push from her mind the memory of their kiss. It had been one kiss for goodness’ sake. Adam certainly wasn’t the first man she’d kissed. Though Matthew hadn’t once kissed her with such passion. How was that possible? Matthew had kissed her…. She thought back. Before they had married, Matthew had wooed her in what she had—at sixteen—thought to be the most romantic way a man could woo a woman. He’d read her poetry, sent her glances filled with longing and had stolen a handful of quick kisses that left her certain they would share endless nights of passion.

On their wedding night, he’d treated her as if she was made of porcelain. She’d thought that meant he was initiating her into the intimacies between a man and a woman with tenderness and consideration. As it turned out, he simply knew little about women and didn’t care to learn. The promised passion never materialized, and their kisses quickly became less frequent. It had taken a little while, but Sophie had come to understand that her husband chose her not because of any particular affection or even because she was beautiful. He had chosen her because her father was wealthy, and she was too inexperienced to know Matthew was a fortune hunter.

Was she making the same mistake with Adam? Was he skilled at making women believe he knew how to touch them? Or was she so desperate for the touch of a man she would so easily be fooled again? Nae, the latter definitely wasn’t true. After Matthew’s death, she had given men little thought. Why, then, did the memory of Adam’s kiss make her heart beat faster and the juncture between her legs throb?

Adam was nothing like Matthew. At least that much she could be sure of. She and Adam didn’t love each other. Sophie was startled at the small prick to her heart the thought elicited. She liked Adam much better than she had ever liked Matthew—and she was certain she liked him more than she ever would the fortune hunting Lord Monthemer.

Now all she had to do was find Adam and propose. He would understand her deception, surely? After all, how many women pretended not to have money? If he agreed to her proposal, they would marry immediately and consummate the marriage before her father knew she had eloped. A mental picture flashed of Adam, his long, lean body over hers, as he drove into her. Her heart thumped. God help her, she was still that sixteen-year-old girl who believed in passion.