An Ideal Husband? by Michelle Styles

it had utterly crushed Sir Vincent.
    ‘A figure of speech, that is all,’ she said, meeting his gaze full on. ‘I never thought you would hit Sir Vincent.’
    ‘I saw the opportunity and seized it. The punch was long overdue.’
    Sophie pressed her lips together. She had to remember that Richard had his own reasons for wanting to hit Sir Vincent. It had nothing to do with her and her troubles, but what had passed between the pair years ago. He had no finer feelings for her. She was simply the means to the end of exacting revenge on Sir Vincent. Because he had made a vow. She was a duty rather than a pleasure.
    Drawing a steadying breath, she stood. It was imperative to keep her wits about her and not tostart believing in the romantic fantasy she had spun for various female acquaintances in the crowd of well-wishers. She knew precisely the sort of man Richard Crawford was and she’d be a fool to forget it.
    ‘My father used to say that opportunities are to be used, rather than lamented about later. You make your luck. Thankfully everything went the way I hoped. Sir Vincent is utterly destroyed.’
    ‘With a little assistance from me.’
    She smiled up at him. ‘Some very welcome assistance. I couldn’t have done it without you. Cynthia’s parents will hear of tonight’s events. They may not be so quick to offer one of their daughters up as Sir Vincent predicted. A fantastic victory.’
    ‘Do you play croquet?’
    ‘On occasion.’ She tilted her head and regarded his features. ‘It is the latest craze. We brought a set back from the Great Exhibition. I spent last summer in Corbridge perfecting my technique. I used to play cricket and was quite handy with the bat. It felt good to be hitting a ball again.’
    ‘I suspect you give no mercy to your opponents.’
    ‘I enjoy winning, but I don’t grind my opponents in the ground like some.’
    ‘We must play some time.’
    ‘It might be a pleasant way to pass the time.’ Sophie hesitated. The time had come to end their fake engagement and put temptation beyond reach. ‘I must warn you, Lord Bingfield, that what I said last night remains true. I have no intention of giving up my reputation, even for a man like yourself who did save me. I fear we must soon part.’
    His finely chiselled features frowned. ‘Do you wish to go home?’
    ‘Now that tonight’s performance has ended?’ Sophie stopped and replaced her glove, covering up her ring. She had only worn the ring for a short while, but she would be sorry to give it back.
    ‘I am at your disposal.’ He inclined his head. ‘Most women would be overwhelmed by what just occurred. No one will remark when we leave.’
    Sophie froze, considering. Did he mean that he wanted her to stay or that he thought a woman of delicate sensibilities would have to leave the ball immediately? Her backbone was made of far sterner stuff, but she could see how leaving would make matters easier. ‘Before you hit him, Sir Vincent as good as admitted to me that it was he who had informed the papers. I doubthe will try that again. Should he attempt to ruin me, I can point to tonight’s events as a reason why his poison should not be believed. Our engagement is finished. I can leave on my own if you wish to stay.’
    She waited for his agreement. His frown increased.
    ‘Your actions do mean we are tied to each other for a while longer.’ A tiny smile played on his lips. ‘Becoming engaged to your dream man meant you forgot your sensibilities. Your words, not mine. Consider what will happen if you jilt me tomorrow. Consider what the press will say then. Will you be known as a flighty heiress?’
    Sophie gulped. She could see the headline now. ‘They were a figure of speech, an added flourish.’
    ‘Added little flourishes can have grave consequences, Miss Ravel. Perhaps you should think before you act.’
    She bowed her head, acknowledging the truth in his words. ‘I can hardly jilt you tonight or any time soon. I shall have to