One Night Scandal

“Send him in, Hendricks,” she managed to say.

Her hands shook as he approached the room. Should she order tea? She glanced down at her dress and thanked God she had the sense to wear one of her better gowns today. Her mind raced with nervousness.

“Good afternoon, Miss Reynard.”

“Good afternoon, Lord Westbury.” She moved around her desk and pointed to the chairs near the fireplace. “Shall we sit here?”

“Of course.” Once Hendricks closed the door, her father sat down and stared at her openly. “You remind me of Genna.”

Sophie nodded. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment. She has a headstrong manner about her too.” He sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “Your note sounded urgent. Exactly what trouble have you gotten yourself into?”

She swallowed down the lump of fear in her throat. He had changed in the past few years. His dark hair was streaked with gray and his face seemed to hold a perpetual frown.

“I am in trouble, Father.”

“Whose is it?”

She blinked and looked up at him. “Whose is it?”

“I can only assume you are with child. I always knew this day would come. Who is the father?” He tapped his finger against the arm of the chair impatiently.

“I would prefer not to say,” she replied, staring at her skirts.

He stood and walked to the fireplace. “I can only assume you want my permission to tell him my name.” Before she could interrupt, he continued, “Well, I will not give you that. You have known all your life what would happen if our names are connected. Don’t think you can toss my name out and expect the bounder to fall to his knees and propose.”

“I had no plans to break my promise to you, Father.”

He turned and stared at her. “Then what do you want?”

“I need to leave London.”

“Why?”

“The man is a marquess,” she whispered.

“Who is it?” he demanded.

If her father was half as stubborn as his son, she knew it was pointless to ignore the question. She closed her eyes and said, “Ancroft.”

“That bastard. He already has one bastard daughter. Does he plan to take the child away? Is that why you must leave?”

Sophie shook her head. “He doesn’t know about the baby. And he cannot find out. He is betrothed to Miss Littlebury.”

“I knew you would eventually take after your mother,” he muttered and moved toward the door.

Anger flooded her. She rose from her chair and stared at him. “Did I really take after my mother? Or maybe my whoring father who couldn’t even remain faithful to the wife who loved him?”

His hand held onto the door handle for a long moment. “You know nothing about my life.”

“I know everything about your life. My brother has told me everything he learned from his mother. Your dead wife.”

“I am finished with this business. I shall continue to pay your expenses while you are here. What you decide is your choice.” He finally turned the handle and left the room.

Sophie collapsed into her chair and wept. Now she had only one other option.

Nicholas watched as Justine danced with Lord Brentwood. This was the last place Nicholas wanted to be tonight. He had become embroiled in an argument with his father about escorting his betrothed to the Huffington ball. He finally relented when he realized the ball gave him the opportunity to watch her with other men. There had to be someone else she had an interest in.