Page 35

“Oh, Papa. How can I bear to go on without you?”

Utterly heartbroken, she laid her head upon his mattress.

He smoothed his hand over her hair. “I want you and the duke to wed, my dear. Tonight. As soon as the cleric arrives. I’m writing a new will and leaving the Duke of Waycross half of my estate. He has already agreed to the union.”

“What? What?” Sophronie shook her head, swinging her attention from her father to Evan and back to her father again. “No,” she gasped. “You cannot be serious. It’s absurd.”

She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was pounding so hard, it threatened to break through the walls of her chest. A roaring began in her ears and black dots flickered before her eyes. She clutched the edge of the mattress and forced air into her constricted lungs.

I shall not faint. I shall not.

Evan was nothing more than a scheming, manipulating opportunist.

Had he suggested this nefarious plan?

“I am absolutely serious, daughter. The duke will protect you and care for you. He understands your love of horses better than any other man I have met. He is a good match for you.”

Fury sizzled in her blood toward Evan and betrayal toward her father. How could Papa put her in this wholly untenable position?

She jutted her chin out. “And if I refuse?”

Having grown impossibly paler yet, her father gazed at her for a lengthy, disquieting moment. “Then I shall have the solicitor put my estate in a trust for your children when they reach their majority, should you have any.”

She gasped and recoiled as if he’d struck her.

“You…you would disinherit me?” Sophronie thought her heart couldn’t break any further.

She’d been dead wrong.

“I am dying, Sophronie,” Papa said gently. “I am doing what I believe in my heart is best for you. Many marriages are arranged, as you well know. Of all the men I know, the Duke of Waycross is my choice for you. I trust him. You are headstrong and obstinate. You flout convention and cock a snook at decorum, but I expect you to abide by my wishes in this. I can die peacefully knowing your future is secure and you are safe with an honorable man.”

She’d argue that last point until her dying breath.

There was nothing honorable about Waycross taking an heiress to wife for half of her father’s fortune. There was a nasty term for that. Bribery. Nevertheless, it was her dying father’s desperate if misguided attempt to keep his wayward daughter safe. Sophronie could hardly blame him for taking this desperate step.

All her life, she’d overstepped the mark and refused to toe the line. In this, her father’s last request, she could honor him. Head bowed, she didn’t try to stop the tears dripping from her eyes and splattering onto her hands and gown.

“Here, Sophronie.” A starched white handkerchief appeared in her line of vision.

She inhaled a ragged breath and accepted the neat square. After blowing her nose and drying her face, she raised her head.

“Answer me one question, Papa, and swear upon my mother’s and sister’s and brother’s grave that you will do so truthfully.” She avoided looking in Evan’s direction. Such rage thrummed through her at his deception that she wanted to pummel him. To punch him in the nose and draw blood.

“I have always been honest with you, Sophronie.” Her father gave her a sad, nascent smile. “You have been my sun and moon. You gave me a reason to keep living when I wanted to die after your mother and siblings died. Ask what you will, my dear.”

“Whose idea was the union between the duke and me?” She crumpled the handkerchief into a ball and squeezed with all of her might, transferring her wrath, frustration, and grief to the innocent cloth. “Yours or his?”

She cut Evan a scorching, sidelong glance. This brute had caused her to doubt her beloved Papa for the first time in her life.

“It was all mine, my dear.” Father flicked a glance to Evan. “He refuses to consider the union unless you willingly agree.”

As if she had any real choice in the matter.

Filling her lungs with a shuddery breath, Sophronie pursed her lips. So be it, but she had contingencies of her own.

“I shall agree under specific conditions.” She fisted her hand around the damp and hopelessly wrinkled handkerchief. “You both must agree to them in writing as well.”

Sophronie would never forgive Evan for his part in this. Never. She didn’t believe for one second he hadn’t somehow coerced her father into this devious plan.