The Stolen Bride by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online Page B

that was my idea?” protested David. “What brother has ever desired the company of his little sister?” He accompanied this by a teasing wink at Sophie and settled beside his wife to take a cup of tea.
    Randal strolled over to Sophie, warmly smiling. He raised her hand and kissed it just by the diamond ring he had given her. “She cried so prettily to be taken along,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Irresistible.”
    “I found her resistible,” said David firmly. “Tangled hair and a snotty nose. Woe to you if you’re going to let her bear-lead you all your life with tears. And she ended up with a black eye, which was what incensed my revered father so.”
    “I remember,” said Sophie. “I ran into a tree.”
    Beth could see Sophie blossoming under Randal’s lighthearted attentions and her concerns about the pair began to fade.
    “Why don’t we go to the fair?” asked Sophie eagerly. “It would be such fun.”
    “Yokels and strong ale?” queried the Marquess of Chelmly dismissively. “I don’t think you’d enjoy it now you’re more than five, Sophie.”
    “Randal and David enjoyed it at much past five,” Sophie retorted. She looked around for support and fastened on Piers Verderan, lounging in a chair rather apart from the rest. “Would you like to go to the fair, Ver?”
    He looked at her and seemed to read her mind. “I always hold that a touch of squalor makes us appreciate our good fortune,” he drawled.
    “Is that your excuse?” queried Marius drily. Beth stiffened. The antagonism between the two could be felt. Over her? It was impossible surely that these two men could be bristling like hounds over little Beth Hawley.
    “I never need an excuse,” replied Mr. Verderan. “It’s so boringly bourgeois to be forever justifying one’s actions.”
    Before Sir Marius could respond, Mr. Verderan got support from an unexpected quarter. “Damn me if you ain’t right,” barked the Duke of Tyne.
    “Good,” said Randal, seemingly oblivious to ill feeling. “Then, if we need no excuse for enjoying proletarian pleasures, I vote for the fair. I never did catch the greasy pig, after all.”
    Sophie clapped her hands and her brother Frederick let out a whoop.
    “You can’t be serious, Randal,” said Chelmly, and Sophie scowled at him dreadfully.
    “If I can’t be serious,” said Lord Randal blithely, “then I won’t be. I think I’ll pass on the greasy pig, but I’ll break pots for trinkets.”
    He turned to Sophie with a decidedly mischievous twinkle and turned her so her back was to him. He undid the chain around her neck and drew away the pearl and diamond pendant she wore. “Sophie can’t be going around in costly stuff like this,” he said, slipping it into his pocket. “It will quite turn her head. Pinchbeck and glass is what she needs if she’s to be a frugal housewife.”
    Sophie turned around and put her hands on her hips. “Indeed!” She moved her left hand and studied the magnificent marquise diamond. “Yes, I see it’s a worthless bauble.”
    “What else?” he agreed. “I’m an impoverished younger son.” He took her hand and turned it. The precious stone flashed fire from the candles but he appeared unimpressed. “But I could have done better than this, all the same.” He kissed her hand again. “I shall win you a better, sweeting. Something with more color.”
    “Oh, good,” said Sophie, her eyes nearly as bright as the diamond at this delightful nonsense. “I haven’t liked to complain, my dear—I’m sure you were pressed for the ready at the time—but something yellow, perhaps, or red, would be nice. And much, much larger. I can hardly hold my head up in company with this paltry thing.”
    Beth saw the two lovers lose themselves for a moment as the world disappeared for them and they gazed into each other’s eyes. Then Randal recollected himself and drew Sophie back into the center of the room.
    “Dare I hope they have pistol shooting at this