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Uncle Hugh cleared his throat. It seemed he had been chosen to lead the charge.

Stay calm, Sophia. Do not show any reaction. Take your time responding to guide the conversation to your desired outcome.

With that reminder firmly in mind, she closed her leather-bound tome with deliberate care and set it aside. Then, she turned her gaze to her uncle, her expression expectant.

“Now, see here, Sophia. It is high time we saw you settled in marriage, with a household of your own to manage.”

The words had a rehearsed quality, and Sophia suppressed a smile. No doubt her aunt had made him practice precisely what to say.

She parried with practiced ease. “Why, Uncle … am I no longer welcome in the Abbott household?” She widened her eyes in mock dismay, letting her lower lip quiver ever so slightly.

Hugh Abbott’s square, kind face immediately softened, his brow creasing in distress. “Never—no, never, my dear niece. You are always welcome here. We love you as though you were our own …”

Uncle Hugh fell silent, his hand coming up to rub his jaw as he groped for words to repair the unintended slight. A panicked expression crossed his face as he glanced helplessly at his wife.

Sophia watched the exchange, careful to keep any trace of smugness from her expression. The first point might belong to her aunt for cornering her so early in the day, but the second point was hers alone for deftly turning the tables.

Her uncle was thoroughly floundering now, leaving Aunt Christiana to take the reins. His guilt over possibly hurting his beloved niece’s feelings had effectively removed him as a useful ally for his wife.

Such sentiment, however, was not a weakness Aunt Christiana shared. An elegant woman in her forties, she was a formidable opponent despite her lack of intellectual inclinations. Sophia had long since learned not to underestimate her aunt’s tenacity.

Politely, Sophia turned her gaze to her aunt, who was now scowling in displeasure at her husband. No doubt she was lamenting his easy manipulation. Squaring her jaw and visibly regrouping, Aunt Christiana turned back to face her niece with renewed determination.

“Sophia, at the Astleys’ the other night, Lord Saunton asked you to dance but then promptly returned you to me. I know he is searching for a wife, and he admires intelligent women like yourself. He is ever so wealthy. I hear his estates are thriving, and he never gambles. You must make an effort⁠—”

“No!”

Sophia and her aunt both turned, startled by her uncle’s unexpected interjection. His face was a thundercloud of undisguised ire. “The earl is a scoundrel, and he will not lay a finger on anyone under my protection. How could you allow them to be introduced, Christiana?”

It was clear her aunt and uncle had not sufficiently prepared for The Conversation. While Lady Moreland hissed a sharp response to her husband’s accusations, Sophia seized the opportunity. Grabbing her toast and book, she pushed her chair back and slipped away before they could redirect their attention to her.

The handsome young footman, Thomas, stationed near the door, pressed his lips together to suppress a smile as she passed. Throwing him a quick, saucy wink was instinctive, and his quiet snort of laughter betrayed his amusement.

He raised a hand to his mouth, feigning a sneeze, as Sophia disappeared into the corridor, a flurry of embroidered white skirts marking her brisk exit. Her aunt would have to pursue her plans another day.

Richard had concluded it was finally time for him to become a real man.

Nay, a gentleman.

The morning after the Astley ball, he had come to accept that he was at a crossroads. He could either embark on the path to becoming a better man or resign himself to becoming a grotesque caricature of the late earl. The realization that he was well on his way to emulating his father—a man whose selfishness and irresponsibility had led Richard’s mother to an untimely death—was the prod he needed to reevaluate his life. Who did he want to be? What legacy did he wish to leave behind?

In the past two days, he had finally acknowledged the pain he had caused his longtime friend and former betrothed, Annabel. His cavalier treatment of her feelings and his rakish pursuits had wounded her deeply. Despite the shame of his actions, Richard now felt a sense of gratitude that his cousin, Philip, had stepped in to marry Annabel in his stead.

At the time, Richard had railed against Philip, but now he saw the truth: his cousin had been a true gentleman, doing what was best for Annabel. She deserved a real marriage—a partnership built on respect and honor. Richard knew he would not have changed his ways to be worthy of her, and he was grateful she had found the life she deserved.

He resolved to make changes in his life and become a man worthy of the title gentleman—a man his mother would be proud of. With this newfound determination, he had already begun making adjustments, though he knew there was much careless behavior to atone for. He could only hope it was not too late to change his course and become a better man.

He also hoped it was not too late to earn the regard of a woman of substance.

Miss Sophia Hayward, with her cutting remarks and sharp wit, was never far from his thoughts. Her forthrightness, when unobserved by society, reminded him of the easy honesty he had once shared with Annabel—before he had ruined their friendship. No one had ever delivered such an unvarnished dose of truth to him. Of course, Miss Hayward was unaware of the impact her words had made, but her determined spirit and intelligence had left an indelible mark on him.

If he could convince her to trust him enough to reveal her true self, perhaps there might be a chance for something more. The thought of seeing the intriguing young lady again that evening lingered in his mind, though hours still stretched before him.

In the meantime, he had work to do. He would meet with his man of business to put certain inquiries into motion. It was time to ensure there were no lingering consequences of his past choices—choices he had once thought harmless but now viewed with remorse. Though he had always been careful to avoid fathering a child, the mere possibility gnawed at him.

Regardless of what his inquiries revealed, he owed apologies—and in some cases, financial recompense—to those he had wronged along the way. It was a daunting task, but one he was determined to face, step by step.

Before his meeting, Richard rang for his butler in his study. When Radcliffe arrived, Richard handed him a list of two housemaids with whom he had behaved improperly—a fact he acknowledged with deep regret. Both young women had been flirtatious at the time, and he, succumbing to his own weaknesses, had not acted as a gentleman should.