Chapter Five #2
“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 welcome alternative 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. ”
Sophia flinched under her mother’s disappointed, unwavering stare. “As I said in the carriage last night, Roxboro expressed admiration for me. He’d seen me walking in the park.” Even to her own ears the excuse sounded weak.
“Goodness, Sophia.” Mama raised a brow. “He was under the influence of an excessive amount of spirits. Wasn’t it obvious?”
That stings.
“Roxboro did not give the impression of intoxication.” Sophia wasn’t about to admit that she’d drunk three glasses of champagne before following him outside and was likely foxed herself.
The stupidity of her actions was appalling.
“After expressing his admiration, Roxboro…asked if he could call upon me.” She didn’t bother to add that he’d said he would speak to Papa about courting her. Every word he’d spoken had been a lie.
“Oh, Sophia,” Mama’s tone was laced with pity. “Roxboro is a rake of the highest order, and not a trustworthy man. And you claim Mara is a pea-hen.” Mama shook her head. “She would never have followed the duke out into the gardens.”
Sophia could say nothing. Believing Roxboro, following him into the dark of the gardens, had been stupid.
She had little defense for it. All she’d been thinking was how…
pleased Mama would be if a duke called upon her.
Finally. How she would finally have triumphed over Mara and the Hortensias of the world.
“Well, I suppose it no longer matters.” Mama’s eyes were now dry.
“I’m not pleased, mind you, given the gossip, but your father has matters well in hand.
And although I am pleased you’ll be a duchess.
” Mama preened for a moment. “I do wish you weren’t going to be Roxboro’s, no matter his looks and wealth.
His character is questionable.” She shrugged.
“No matter. I daresay you’ll be a widow within a few years at any rate, given his love of spirits not to mention his other habits. ”
“Mama. That is a terrible thing to say.” Sophia didn’t want to marry Roxboro, or even like him, but she didn’t wish him dead.
“Your mother is correct.” Papa frowned as he examined the tea tray.
“What happened to all the ham sandwiches? The truth is, Sophia, that Roxboro slips off his horse with great regularity, mostly due to his love of drink.” He smiled at finding a ham sandwich hidden beneath a pile of the watercress.
“Tripping about and such. Falling off that pleasure barge into the Thames. I am surprised Roxboro has lasted this long. Oddly clumsy for a libertine. You would expect him to be a bit more graceful in his movements.”
“The Thames?” Which was filthy and full of diseased things. Not to mention the smell. She had heard mention of Roxboro going for a swim in that disgusting body of water but she’d thought it a jest.
“Fished out while singing a bawdy tune. Had an eel caught on the buttons of his coat. Lucky he didn’t drown. Thought it all a great lark. So foxed he barely knew his own name.”
Good lord. Why hadn’t she just…stayed hidden behind that blasted potted fern at Lady Perswick’s ball?
“And.” Mama leaned forward. “Roxboro was nearly decapitated by a thresher after passing out in the wheat at The Pillory. The ducal seat.”
“Decapitated?” Roxboro became less appealing by the moment. “And his estate is called The Pillory?” Pillories were used to confine a person for punishment.
“Yes. Can you imagine? Slicing off a duke’s head?
I had it firsthand from Lady Witsworth whose estate is a half day’s ride from The Pillory.
Roxboro fell into a stack of hay after a night of carousing at some tavern with Lord Oakhurst. No one knew he was in the hay, including Oakhurst. The servants had been searching for him for hours. Lord Damon was beside himself.”
“How horrifying,” Sophia whispered. “But you want me to wed him? Despite all these tales?”
Both her parents stared at her, agog.
“Well, of course,” Mama insisted, her tone leaving no doubt she thought Sophia to be an idiot.
“He’s compromised you. Rather publicly. No matter how disreputable, Roxboro is still a duke, Sophia.
A young, attractive one, despite his numerous flaws.
There isn’t another duke this Season save Hayward.
Yes, Roxboro will gamble, keep a mistress, and drink far too much.
Eventually, he’ll drown in a barrel of whisky or choke on a fish bone. But you’ll be a duchess.”
“You’re joking.” Sophia reached for another biscuit.
“You must give him an heir as soon as possible,” Mama instructed, eyeing the biscuit in Sophia’s hand.
“Not another. You’ve had at least six. A young lady should not be a glutton.
As I was saying, a child will solidify your position in society as a duchess and mother of a duke. Think of the influence you’ll wield.”
Sophia didn’t care for wielding influence, especially now that she must consider bedding Roxboro. She was still trying to come to terms with the fact that she must marry him. Or that she might never again have a taste for champagne. But of course she must provide him an heir.
An unexpected curl of heat unwound inside her.
No. Despite Roxboro’s physical attractiveness, he was a terrible, awful, human being. She wouldn’t look forward to sharing a bed with him at all. In fact, she would spend the rest of the day imagining all the ways to avoid marital relations with that unrepentant sot.
“I don’t care about being a duchess,” she finally said.
Mama fell back against the settee once more, lips pursed.
“I do. I plan to call upon Lady Brokeburst tomorrow and relay to her just how incorrect her assumptions were. You and Roxboro developed an affection for each other. A secret one. Your father knew, of course.” She beamed at Papa.
“But I was kept in the dark, thus her waving about the newspaper shocked me.” She thought for a moment.
“Your father didn’t want it to take attention away from Mara’s Season.
But the fact remains, you and Roxboro did nothing wrong.
Not really. And once I was apprised of the situation, I was thrilled beyond measure. ”
“I don’t know why there isn’t more ham.” Father took up a watercress sandwich. “A month is long enough, I think, for the banns and the wedding, given you’ve been courting.”
“But we haven’t been.” Panic swept through Sophia.
“Tomorrow, you’ll be officially betrothed.” He finished the tiny sandwich.
“I don’t like him,” she insisted. “Not in the least.”
“Perhaps you should have disliked him sooner,” Mama said firmly. “Before allowing him to compromise you. I can’t wait to inform Lady Brokeburst that she’s made a complete cake of herself by spreading such gossip. She won’t be invited to the wedding.”
“I don’t want to marry him. Surely, there is something you can do, Papa.
” Roxboro was magnificent on the outside, but he was a sot.
Possibly an opium addict. Certainly, a debauched libertine.
Which made the disappointing kiss he’d bestowed upon her, that had caused this entire debacle, that much worse.
You’d think a libertine could kiss well.
“Do you want to be sent to a convent, Sophia?” Mama lifted a brow. “Become a nun?”
“Well, no, but—”
Mama stood with a clap of her hands. “Well, I’m off.
There is much to do and little time to do it.
There’s a wedding to plan. I must write to Lord Damon immediately.
” She rushed out of the room in a flurry of skirts, no doubt intent on spreading the news to every matron in the ton. “I’m to be the mother of a duchess.”
“Papa,” Sophia pleaded, once her mother was gone. “Won’t you reconsider?” She was desperate to escape her fate. “Nothing happened. It was merely a kiss. Barely a peck on the lips. He doesn’t even remember me.”
Father munched on a biscuit. “The convent is in Scotland, near a bog, so it is cold and dreary the entire year. Oh, and the nuns take a vow of silence.” He regarded her with little sympathy.
She looked down at her lap, pulling at a bit of lace on her skirt.
“Make the best of this match, Sophia. Don’t embarrass your family.” Papa’s voice was gruff. “Do your duty. As the daughter of Lord Canterbell should.”