Free An Ideal Husband? by Michelle Styles Page B

appear to hear her last teasing remark.
    ‘Is there a problem?’ she asked, peering at the young lady and stylishly dressed older woman who seemed to have caught Crawford’s eye. The young lady was beautiful in that dark sort of way that Sophie knew she could never be. There was a faint exoticism about her features. The older woman was clearly her mother.
    He shook his head and cupped his hand under her elbow, definitely turning her away from the pair. Her body reverberated from the touch. ‘It was simply someone I thought I recognised. A mistake.’
    ‘Another one of your conquests?’ She laughed and tried to concentrate on the poster advertising the visit of Charles Dickens that comingAugust. She should have expected it, but it still hurt. Once a rake, always a rake. She had no right to expect anything from him. This entire engagement was spun-sugar pretence and artifice, rather than truly solid and secure love. ‘I don’t mind. There is no finer feeling between us. Indeed, I have no interest in you beyond securing my reputation.’
    Her heart thudded that it was a lie. She was certainly aware of him. And he had been perceptive enough to realise that she was nervous. She simply didn’t want to start liking him. There had to be reasons to keep her heart safe. Soon enough, he would revert to type. She had to keep remembering that he was the worst sort of rake, the sort of man whom the gutter press loved. It was only because he wanted to conduct a private war against Sir Vincent that her reputation stood any chance of survival. He had not done this because he cared about her or her prospects.
    ‘Most definitely not one of my conquests. Nor ever likely to be.’ The light in his eyes flared gold. ‘And, Sophie, when we are together, I will not look at any other woman. I promise. It is not the way I was made or brought up.’
    ‘It can happen.’
    ‘And it causes tremendous heartache for other people.’ He stared down at her. ‘I have witnessedthe consequences firsthand. Many times. And I have never knowingly caused a woman to break her vows, but it has always been a matter for her, rather than for me.’
    Sophie swallowed hard. She could hardly confess she had asked her stepmother about the scandals he had been involved in. ‘But you do know the women.’
    ‘After a fashion.’ His brows knitted. ‘I had not expected them to be here tonight. It changes nothing. Until our association ends, I am yours.’
    ‘Once the first waltz starts, you can come and find me if you wish to speak to them now,’ Sophie said brightly, forcing her mind away from the way her heart wanted to believe his words. Underneath he would be the same as any other rake—selfish and solely concerned with his own pleasure. ‘There is no need to introduce me. There are a number of other people I need to speak to.’
    Sophie silently prayed the waltz would be soon. Otherwise it was going to be torture waiting to speak to him and hoping that they had their story correct. But staying close to him was another sort of torture, undermining her resolve to keep aloof from his seductive technique.
    A smile transformed his features. ‘Our luck appears to be holding. I believe I can hear thefirst strains now. There is no need to greet distant acquaintances.’
    She allowed him to lead her into the middle of the dance floor. While some of the other rooms had gas lighting, the main ballroom still had its magnificent chandelier lighting system.
    He placed his hand on her waist, holding her a bit more tightly than strictly necessary. She pointedly twisted her waist to gain a little space.
    ‘I have been civilised, Miss Ravel. You will come to no harm.’
    ‘Everyone is watching us.’ She swallowed hard and attempted to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.
    ‘Everyone will have read the papers. They want to see what happens. Abject devotion.’
    ‘From you or me?’ Sophie gave a pointed smile. She was on firmer ground here. ‘Abject devotion fails