The Wedding Duel (The Dueling Pistols Series) (6 page)

Farthing turned pale. "She is a gently bred young woman. I am sure she will understand and submit to her duty, but there is no reason to expose her to any unpleasantness before necessary."

Keene leaned against a bookshelf. He was not asking permission to seduce the man's daughter, although with the engagement agreed upon it was not such a horrible crime. But Farthing was putting the worst possible spin on his words, like only an extreme moralist would. "I assure you she would not find my company unpleasant. As we have not spoken much in these last few years, I think it would do well for us to reacquaint ourselves with each other. I am thinking of her comfort."

Certainly not his own; he wasn't particularly looking forward to getting reacquainted with Sophie. Although getting to know her in the biblical sense did have a certain appeal, he could wait three weeks.

"I have not spoken of it as you are my wife's cousin, but your reputation precedes you. I shall only rest easy when she is tied by the church to you. Until then, I will not allow you to be alone in her company."

Might as well throttle the cat with the bell. "My word as a gentleman, I shall not tempt her into my bed before I have the right."

Farthing looked positively sick. "I wish your word as a gentleman that you will not assault her person."

"Sir, I would never assault any woman's person."

Farthing looked like he might have an apoplexy. Detailing that no woman found his kisses an assault might take too much time, thought Keene. If approaching the claws dead on didn't help, perhaps he should try milksop and toast. "I give you my word as a gentleman that I will attempt no familiarity beyond holding her hand."

Farthing drew up stiff. "That, sir, will be entirely too much. Your influence upon her is not the sort I would wish for her in her unmarried state. It will be best if you leave after the paperwork is settled. I shall notify my solicitor at once so we might have the agreement worked out quickly."

"As soon as the marriage contract is signed, I shall be on my way."

Farthing nodded.

"Please make my excuses to the ladies, I think I shall retire." Keene didn't want to sit through an evening of Holy Hannah. Especially not since he expected certain passages might be illuminated for his edification. Why would Farthing accept his marriage proposal for his daughter if he found Keene's lifestyle so aberrant? How would his influence after marriage be more acceptable?

Keene shook his head as he read the spines of the books on the shelves.

* * *

Later, he decided he'd had enough of the expurgated version of Shakespeare he'd chosen from the limited selection in the library. Reading the bard's work in a sanitized form was sort of like deciding if a man had an attractive beard after all his facial hairs had been shaved.

He shed his coat and pulled his untied linen cravat away from his throat. He debated whether or not to ring for his valet. As he was reaching for the bellpull a tap on his door sounded. He didn't think his valet capable of clairvoyant communication, but he called out, "Enter."

Sophie darted around the door and shut it with a stealthy gentleness.

He wasn't sure if he was shocked or it was the sort of behavior he expected from her. "Come to put me to bed?"

She had the grace to blush. "Of course not. I hope Papa did not upset you earlier. He told Mama he thought he might have offended you, but he thought it was necessary."

"Perhaps it was. Sophie, you don't belong in here."

"I know. They told me I am not allowed to be alone with you. Which is silly. When your room is just down the hall and as none of the doors have locks, I should not know how they propose to prevent us from sneaking together if we have a mind to."

Keene's pulse took a little leap. "Have you a mind to?"

"Of course not. I just don't understand why you have offered for me. If you felt we were too familiar earlier when you helped me in the window, I am sure there is no need for you to make reparation. No one would know my reputation has been sullied with me buried in the country like I am."

Keene cursed the promise he had given earlier. Even though Farthing had not found his pledge to pass on seducing Sophie sufficient reassurance, he could not ignore his word. "Sophie, I came here with the intention of asking for your hand. Your parents knew that. I had thought they would have told you."

She plunked down on the chair he had just vacated. "They applied to you for aid." Her words were between a question and a stoic recitation of a casualty list.

"I believe they applied to my father."

She watched him with a furrow between her delicate eyebrows. "And your father asked you to help?"

"Something like that."

"You don't always do as your father wishes."

How did a woman who so often ran around like a trooper still manage to look so feminine? "I often do the opposite."

"I am confused, because I thought you didn't like me."

He knelt beside her chair and took her hands in his. He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. "If you don't wish to be my wife, all you have to do is say so."

"I fear you would take a refusal with too much glee."

She had grabbed the tiger, wrestled him right to the ground and belled him, but then, with her penchant for unladylike pursuits, he shouldn't have been surprised.

He doubted an explanation of why he consented to his father's plan would aid the situation. His reasons were more complicated than he understood. Not only Richard's death, but George's trials in the past year affected his decision to go along with his father's command. "Sophie, if you should be content, I shall consider myself lucky. And I promised your father I should not be overly familiar with you, so you should go back to your room."

She winced. "Papa is excessively worried about your reputation."

"My reputation is overdone."

"I don't think so. With Richard by your side following your pursuits, no one called him a rake."

Richard fell in love too easily. He never had the reserve to be seen as a rake, not that Keene was sure he deserved the appellation. "And how do you feel about the rumors about me?"

"I should be relieved you do not think of yourself as a shining example of perfection."

He grinned. "Oh, but I am."

"You are not. Papa is nearer to perfection than any man, and it is a sore trial to live with when one is so very imperfect. Mama says my high spirits are the problem, but I am often in a pickle. Papa thinks it is the impurity of my character. I should think that since you often indulge in your own pleasures, you should be more understanding of my weaknesses."

"What weaknesses?"

She pulled her hands away and stood. "That I often indulge in frivolous pursuits for my own pleasure." She shrugged. "Like I would read novels instead of Hannah More—a great sin according to Papa. I prefer galloping across the fields to sitting with my embroidery." She took a step away from the chair, clasped and raised her hands. "I should very much just like to dance, but Papa considers all those things precursors to more indecent behavior. He feels my morals are sorely lacking."

"Yes, I am aware he is a very moral man." So much so that he found normal pursuits objectionable. "I daresay he thinks I am doomed to hell."

"Papa is just not sure you are to be trusted."

A sinner in one regard apparently made one suspect in all other matters. Keene wondered if his restraint with Sophie in his bedroom would be seen as honorable or if he should fail for not ushering her out immediately. "Is that why he would rush us through the banns and ceremony?"

Sophie shifted her gaze to the door. "He might fear if you know me too well you would cry off."

He smoothed his hand down her arm. "If I knew you too well, I should be obliged to make an honest woman of you."

A slight shudder moved down from her shoulders.

"Sophie, go now or spend the night in my bed."

Her eyes widened. "Should you like that?" she whispered.

"I daresay I shall be gravely disappointed in myself for not honoring my word to your father."

She turned away from him and clasped her upper arm with her other hand. "And if I should disappoint you?"

She needed reassurance. Trouble was he wasn't sure he should use any more persuasion than he already had. "I daresay you shall disappoint me sooner or later, although I doubt that it will be in bed."

He gave up on restraint and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him with her back to his chest.

She trembled against him. Although he doubted she would regret it if he persuaded her to stay, he didn't want to callously trample her innocence. His approach had less finesse than usual and that was reason enough to send her on her way. He couldn't ever remember demanding a woman share his bed or leave. "Sophie, you are not ready for this, and there is no reason to rush."

"I should like to get it over with."

He steered her toward the door. "I think not. A rake like me has a reputation to protect." His women were always willing.

When he had the door open, he propelled her through it. He slid his palm down her spine to the small of her back where he rubbed his thumb in a light circle. "Sleep well."

He backed away before he slung her over his shoulder and tossed her on his bed without regard for her sensibilities or the sensibilities of his host, who seemed much more likely to take offense. He shut the door and leaned his head against it. If she knocked and asked for readmittance, he wouldn't be able to exercise any restraint. His total lack of control overwhelmed him.

He couldn't even take pride in that he had ultimately done the right thing, because he wanted so badly to fling open his door and march boldly into her room and exercise rights he didn't own yet.

Sophie stared at the shut door with a mixture of emotions: relief and disappointment, exhilaration and anguish. She thought perhaps Keene desired her. She wondered when this fine turn of events had happened. Perhaps a rake desired all women and that was what made them successful in their pursuits. She was none too sure he truly wanted her as his wife, but she had no reason to question his purpose. Still, she was uneasy that all was not as well as it seemed.

That thought was echoed the next morning when she learned that Keene had chosen to spend the entire day in Mr. Ponsby's company. Her mother patted her hand and said, "He is a gentleman much used to following his own pursuits. If you want a husband who is not like Mr. Farthing, than you shall have to be content when he is about his amusements."

"Truly, Mama, I shall not mind, if he offers me the same license to amuse myself."

"Sophie, I know you do not understand the ways of the ton. And like your father I think they are unsavory, but you shall be expected to deliver an heir and a spare before you are free to seek your own . . ." Her mother blushed. "Not that I approve of such goings on, but Keene is not known to be content with one woman's company. It should be unlikely he shall change after marriage."

"And I am not to notice?"

"No, you may notice, but you are not to object. You shall make yourself miserable if you do. I can tell you, it shall only make unpleasantness if you insist on loyalty from a man who does not feel it in his heart."

Her mother stole a peek at the doorway. "Mr. Farthing should have an apoplexy if he heard me speak to you of such things. But I had a dear friend who married a libertine and she was quite miserable. You see, he was interested in her for a short while, but then he moved on, as his sort are wont to do."

"I see," said Sophie, but she didn't. In fact, the waters seemed much more murky than before.

* * *

Keene tugged on his jacket sleeve before entering the salon where the family met before dinner. He'd spent the day hunting with Mr. Ponsby. A toiling event, to be sure. The local squire regarded hunting as purely a food-gathering operation, whereas Keene preferred the finer aspects of marksmanship and sport.

He was glad he had waited until the end of the day to inform Ponsby of the engagement as it was possible the squire's accuracy with his shot could have noticeably declined. Accidental shootings were always a possibility while grousing. Or perhaps his accuracy could have much improved, depending on one's perspective and Ponsby's wishes.

Instead, Ponsby had turned to him with a solemn look out of place on his chubby-cheeked cherubic face and said, "You had better take good care of her."

Ponsby had turned away with a bent head, which left Keene wondering about the vagaries of human nature. Why would Sophie turn down a man who thought so much of her? Not that he was normally given to noble thoughts, but perhaps he should withdraw his offer and allow Sophie to marry someone she inspired to devotion not just desire.

Keene could have waited until just before dinner was served before making his appearance, but he didn't want his future in-laws to feel neglected even if his presence wasn't entirely welcome.

Jane's voice drifted out of the salon. "Are you very sure that is the right path to follow? I mean, to request him to leave so soon?"

"Of course it is the right way. You can't mean that you want him to make love to our Sophie?"