Lady Hope and the Duke of Darkness: The Baxendale Sisters Book 3 by Maggi Andersen

determined nature. They climbed the broad, sweeping staircase and entered Sophie’s bedroom, decorated in shades of pink from deep raspberry to the palest hue.
    Hope ran an appreciative eye over the exquisite furnishings. Charity would approve of the color scheme.
    “Come and sit here.” Sophie directed Hope to a satin-covered sofa. “I want to tell you a story.” Sophie sat beside her. “I grew up on a farm—” she began.
    Stunned, Hope interrupted her. “A farm? But why?”
    Hope listened with increasing dismay as Sophie related her life story: how her mother had died giving birth to her and her father had relinquished any claim to her. She bit back tears at the hurt in Sophie’s voice. “His Grace? What did he know of it?”
    “He was away at school. The duke did not see fit to tell him.”
    “I can hardly believe your father could be so cruel.”
    She patted Hope’s hand. “I have shocked you. But in truth, I wasn’t unhappy as a child. My adopted parents were kind to me. I was fed and clothed, as the duke did send them money.”
    “Still!”
    Sophie shrugged. “I’m well educated for a farmer’s daughter. In a way, it was harder for me to fit into life in York than it is here.”
    Hope thought that likely. Despite her humble upbringing, Sophie had the proud bearing of a French aristocrat. “Is that why you came to London?”
    “After my parents died, I was alone. To find my only living relative seemed the right thing to do.”
    “And so His Grace took you in.”
    “As you see.” Sophie waved her arm to encompass the luxurious room. “He has been wonderful. And he has promised to settle me in London society before he returns to France.”
    Hope’s breath caught in her lungs. Was Daniel returning to France without Sophie? How could he turn his back on her as his father had done? She could hardly believe it of him.
    “I am telling you this, Hope, because I trust you.”
    Disenchantment filled her mind with sour thoughts. “I am honored, Sophie. I shall keep your secret.”
    “Daniel wanted you to know the truth.”
    For a moment, Hope felt inordinately pleased, and then she swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment. Daniel seemed such an affectionate brother. How could he desert his newly found sister?
    Sophie shrugged her slim shoulders. “The truth will be discovered sooner or later. The scandal sheets and gossipers will spread it through the ton . Now that I am here in London, it cannot remain secret.”
    “There is nothing for you to fear or be ashamed of. Should it become common knowledge, I believe there will be a great deal of sympathy for you.”
    Sophie’s laugh sounded bitter. “Do you think so? Hopefully, by then, I shall be married and it won’t bother me.”
    “That would be best, certainly.” A wealthy husband’s protection would be the ideal thing for Sophie.
    “But I may need your help,” Sophie said.
    “Of course. What is it?”
    “It’s about Mr. Braithwaite. Horace.” Sophie flushed as she said his given name. “We wish to meet, and for the moment, it must be in secret. I may need to use you as an excuse.” Her eyes glowed with determination.
    Emotionally drained after learning about Sophie’s misfortune, Hope rushed to dissuade her. “But, Sophie…do you really think…?” She reached for Sophie’s hand and squeezed it. “Dan…His Grace, rather, is obviously fond of you. Can you really consider repaying him in this fashion?”
    Sophie’s flush faded, leaving her face pale. “I can because it’s the best thing for him. Daniel is at a loss to know what to do with me. He plans to buy me property, settle a handsome dowry on me and marry me off to some lord or other. But I know I wouldn’t be happy.”
    “Where did you meet Mr. Braithwaite?”
    “In room four at the British Museum—the Egyptian exhibition. Mr. Braithwaite works there. Mrs. Crisp always settles in a chair in the foyer and promptly falls asleep while I wander the rooms. He approached