The Rogue Not Taken (Scandal & Scoundrel #1)(74)

She blinked, the promise exceedingly tempting. “That seems like a great deal of money.”

“Lucky for you, I have a great deal of money. And I’m about to have more.”

“Enough for me to never have to return to London?”

He inclined his head. “If that’s what you like. Enough for your bookshop. Wherever you want it to be.”

Desire and doubt warred within her. “Why would you help me?”

For a long moment, she thought he might say something lovely. Something that revealed that he was coming to like her. Hope flared, quick and dangerous. But when he replied, he said no such thing. “Because you are my perfect revenge.”

She narrowed her gaze on his, dread pooling. “What do you want from me?”

“It’s quite simple, really.” He opened the door to the coach and indicated she should enter, not knowing how much his next words stung. “I’m going to present you to my father. As my soon-to-be wife.”

She stilled. “You are serious.”

“Quite. We’ve been fabricating a marriage for the last week; an engagement shouldn’t be so very difficult. We’ve already started.”

“You didn’t tell Robbie we were engaged for me. You did it for you.”

He shook his head. “For us. It works for both of us.”

She ignored the pang in her chest at the words. “You’re asking me to lie to a duke.”

“To my father.”

She blinked. “I thought you planned to convince him that you’d never marry.”

“And I won’t,” King replied. “I’ve no intention of marrying you.”

He said it as though it wouldn’t hurt. And it shouldn’t, she realized. There was never a moment when he’d given any implication that they were more than traveling companions.

Except for last night, in the carriage.

She pushed the thought away. It wasn’t as though she would marry him, anyway. But still. “It’s a wonder any woman in Christendom finds you charming.”

He added, as though it would help, “I’ve no intention of marrying anyone, Sophie. You know that.”

“Have you changed your mind then? Do you wish to make a dying man feel better?” She asked the questions even though she knew the answers.

“No.”

You’re my perfect revenge.

“Because I am a Dangerous Daughter. God forbid anyone with fortune and title marry a Talbot sister.”

He stilled at the words, and she wondered if her frustration was clear. If her hurt was. “Sophie—”

She cut him off. “No, no. Of course. Your great, aristocratic father will no doubt be horrified that you’ve stooped to marry me. I lack breeding, bloodline, and class. My father won his title at cards—making us at best usurpers of title and privilege.”

“He believes those things.”

“Just as his son does.”

His eyes went wide, and then narrowed with anger. “You know not what you speak of.”

“No?” she asked, suddenly feeling very brave. “I think I know precisely that of which I speak. You didn’t linger here out of concern for my future. You didn’t sally into the bakeshop to rescue me out of the goodness of your heart. You don’t offer me this arrangement because you wish for me to have freedom.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? So if I were another woman, with sounder reputation, with bluer blood, you would have proposed this?” She paused and he did not speak. “Of course you wouldn’t have, because those women wouldn’t anger your father so much.”

“Sophie—” King had the grace to look chagrined.

She was having none of it. “But those women also wouldn’t have the opportunity I have. I wasn’t raised to marry well, Lord Eversley. I wasn’t born with the silver spoon that allows you to be so utterly deplorable. So, fine. You want a Soiled S to trot before your father? You get one.”

She took hold of the edge of the coach and hoisted herself in without his help.

Chapter 14

ROYAL ROGUE AND SOILED SOPHIE—

WAR? OR MORE?

He followed her into the carriage without hesitation, closing them into the tight, small space, and waiting for the vehicle to move before he spoke, frustration and anger and no small amount of embarrassment driving his words.

“It seems, my lady”—he drawled the honorific, knowing she would loathe it—“that you have forgotten how very much I have done for you in the past week.”

Her gaze shot to his, furious. “Do edify me.”

“I had plans of my own, you might consider. I was hieing north on a rather time-sensitive matter.”

She raised a brow. “Oh, yes. To find one final way to punish your father on death’s door. Very noble.”

“If you knew my father—”

“I don’t,” she said, all casualness, reaching into the basket on the seat next to her and extracting a book. “But frankly, my lord, I am not feeling very kind toward you at this particular moment, so if you’re angling for my sympathy, perhaps save your stories for another time.”

She was the most infuriating woman he’d ever met. “I gave you everything you wished. I brought you to damn Mossband instead of packing you back to London, as I should have the moment I discovered you, like the baggage you are. I protected you from your father’s damn hunters. Oh, yes. And I saved your damn life.”