“I placed a bet, that is all, Sophie.”
“No, you have ruined my life.” She’d had an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach since yesterday. Normally, that meant something dreadful was about to happen. But it wasn’t until Elizabeth called on her this afternoon and informed her of the wager that Sophie determined the source of her sense of foreboding.
“Since you have told me I cannot uphold your honor, I decided on another way to get the man to pay for what he did to you.”
“By trying to ruin me?”
“I am not trying to ruin you.”
“Indeed?” Sophie pressed. “Two of my clients have cancelled for today. Am I supposed to believe that is just a coincidence?”
“Yes.” Somerton crossed his arms over his chest.
“By interfering, you are putting my reputation in jeopardy. And risking our father’s wrath. He won’t take it out on his heir. But he would have no issue rescinding my allowance.”
“Sophie, I will support you if that happens.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t need your support. All I want is for you to stay out of my personal business.”
Somerton stood and then paced the small confines of her study. “I will do whatever I have to in order to protect you, Sophie.”
A knock scraped across the door. “Come in,” Sophie called.
Hendricks opened the door and glanced inside. “Excuse me, ma’am. Lord Ancroft is here to see you.”
Somerton stopped his pacing and glared over at her.
“Tell him I am not at home.”
“He is particularly insistent this afternoon, ma’am,” Hendricks commented.
The man was always particularly insistent. “I said I am not at home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She glanced over at her brother and noticed the arched brow and smirk. “It is not what your dirty little mind is thinking,” she said to Somerton as the door closed again.
“Oh? Knowing Nicholas as I do, I doubt I am far off the mark. He should have asked for your hand.”
“He did.”
Somerton drew back with a frown. “He did? Then why haven’t I heard of a betrothal?”
“Because I rejected his offer.” She walked across the room, hoping the frustration spiraling through her body would stop.
“Why would you do that?” he asked softly.
“You know the reason. I cannot marry a man like Nicholas.”
“A man with a bastard?”
“No, you fool. A marquess!”
“He won’t care about your background,” he whispered.
Maybe not, but she knew others would care. “Just leave, Anthony. I cannot bear another minute of your company.”
“Very well.” Her brother left the room, leaving the door wide open.