‘Quick—Sir Vincent is coming. He plans to destroy my reputation. If he sees me here he will find a way to ruin me.’
Richard reacted instinctively. He swung her back into the shadows, up against the hedge, and stood between Miss Ravel and the light.
‘Follow my lead and keep silent,’ he murmured against her lavender-scented hair.
‘Your lead?’ she asked, attempting to peer around him. Her skirts brushed his leg. ‘Should I trust you?’
‘Do you have a choice?’ He took a glimpse down at Miss Ravel, seeing her clearly for the first time.
Her lips hovered a tantalisingly few inches beneath his. Her deep blue eyes looked up into his, trusting him to get this right and protect her. Truly Cinderella after the ball, missing a slipper and in need of a prince.
Richard resisted the urge to crush her to him. Another time and in another place he would have given in to temptation, but this closeness was far from a prelude to seduction—it was instead a means to prevent Miss Ravel’s ruin. He had to hope that whoever it was would observe the niceties and simply walk on past.
AUTHOR NOTE
In the beginning there was Sophie. I wrote the first scene of this book and then thought, Hold on—what happened before? The ‘what happened before?’ thoughts led to me writing TO MARRY A MATCHMAKER, and after I’d finished writing it I considered that I could leave Sophie and concentrate on other stories. My editor agreed and thought it would be a good idea to give Sophie a chance to grow up.
Sophie had other ideas. She enlisted my daughter. My daughter was instrumental in my writing AN IMPULSIVE DEBUTANTE, and every so often Katharine would ask, ‘So when are you going to write Sophie? It is all very well and good saying that she had a happy ending, Mom, but how did she get there? You must know.’
My daughter went away to university, and when we talked she’d keep on about Sophie and how she needed a proper story. Finally I asked my editor—who agreed! Sophie, of course, decided to become rather aloof because I had ignored her, and I feared I would have to write something else. Then, quite suddenly, Sophie decided she had better show up or she would not have a story!
The result is this book. I did adore writing it once Sophie and Richard decided to speak to me. I hope you will enjoy reading it.
As ever, I love hearing from readers. You can contact me through my website, www.michellestyles.co.uk, my blog, www.michellestyles.blogspot.com, or through my publisher. I also have a page on Facebook—Michelle Styles Romance Author—where I regularly post my news.
About the Author
Born and raised near San Francisco, California, MICHELLE STYLES currently lives a few miles south of Hadrian’s Wall, with her husband, three children, two dogs, cats, assorted ducks, hens and beehives.
An avid reader, she became hooked on historical romance when she discovered Georgette Heyer, Anya Seton and Victoria Holt one rainy lunchtime at school.
Although Michelle loves reading about history, she also enjoys a more hands-on approach to her research. She has experimented with a variety of old recipes and cookery methods (some more successfully than others), climbed down Roman sewers, and fallen off horses in Iceland. When she is not writing, reading or doing research, Michelle tends her rather overgrown garden or does needlework.
Michelle maintains a website, www.michellestyles.co.uk, and a blog: www.michellestyles.blogspot.com. She would be delighted to hear from you.
Previous novels by the same author:
THE GLADIATOR’S HONOUR
A NOBLE CAPTIVE SOLD AND SEDUCED THE ROMAN’S VIRGIN MISTRESS TAKEN BY THE VIKING A CHRISTMAS WEDDING WAGER
(part of Christmas By Candlelight)
VIKING WARRIOR, UNWILLING WIFE
AN IMPULSIVE DEBUTANTE A QUESTION OF IMPROPRIETY IMPOVERISHED MISS, CONVENIENT WIFE COMPROMISING MISS MILTON* THE VIKING’S CAPTIVE PRINCESS BREAKING THE GOVERNESS’S RULES* TO MARRY A MATCHMAKER HIS UNSUITABLE VISCOUNTESS HATTIE WILKINSON MEETS HER MATCH
*linked by character
And in Mills & Boon® Historical Undone! eBooks:
THE PERFECT CONCUBINE
Did you know that some of the novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
An Ideal
Husband?
Michelle Styles
For Katharine,
who asked, begged and otherwise pleaded.
Being an author’s daughter can have its advantages …
even if you still die of embarrassment when I go looking for my books in a bookshop.
Chapter One
May 1852—Newcastle upon Tyne
Why was it that some men only understood the application of a frying pan to the head? And why was it that one often met such men at balls when all one could carry in one’s reticule was a hair pin?
Sophie Ravel glared at Sir Vincent Putney and took a step backwards, narrowly avoiding his outstretched hand. Perhaps this contrived confrontation of Sir Vincent Putney in a deserted conservatory was not one of her better ideas, but Sophie knew it was the only way to help one of her oldest friends avoid a fate worse than death. Tonight was the final opportunity to carry out her scheme and prevent Cynthia from being sacrificed on the altar of her parents’ ambition.
‘Not one step further, Sir Vincent.’ Sophie raised her reticule, ready to swat his hand away.
‘I have no desire to see you fall, Miss Ravel.’ The oily voice grated over her nerves. ‘I know how precious you are to my dear Miss Johnson. She sang your praises for weeks before we journeyed to Newcastle. Will Miss Johnson be joining us in the conservatory? Is that what she meant by a surprise?’
Sophie’s eyes flew to the door. She’d been meticulous in her planning. Every eventuality covered, every solitary one except the one actually unfolding.
She should know the answer to the question, but her mind was a blank. She hated lying; avoiding the full truth was a necessity in certain circumstances.
‘Miss Johnson has another matter to attend to before she can come to any conservatory.’ Sophie straightened the skirt of her ball gown so that the cascades of blonde lace fell neatly once again. The tiny gesture restored her confidence. Precise planning would once again triumph and produce the perfect outcome. ‘I’m sure she will appear when circumstances permit it.’
‘Said with such a disdainful look.’ Sir Vincent hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘Despite your airs and graces, Miss Ravel, you have nothing to be proud about. I know all about your parentage and how your father acquired his considerable fortune.’
Sophie fought against the inclination to laugh. The man’s accent was so entirely ridiculous, proclaiming about her parentage as if she was some brood mare.
She backed up so that her bottom touched one of the shelves.