Sophie Carmichael sat at the long dining table, pushing around the potatoes and peas on her plate. The dark, echoey room was silent, but for the click of utensils. She took a breath as she tried to determine the best way to approach her cousin.

“Malcolm,” she began slowly, looking up at the handsome man across the table from her. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Well, that is notable.” He looked down his long nose at her with a sneer.

She ignored his barb and continued. “I should like to talk to you about going to London.”

“To London?” His face snapped up to meet hers, his steely grey eyes beading as they ran over her, assessing. “Why would you want to go to London?”

“For the season,” she said, willing herself not to back down from him. “It is time that I found a husband. Since my parents passed, I have remained in mourning but as it has now been over six months it is finished. I feel that I should --”

Her cousin, the Earl of Dunstable, cut her off with a snort. “Sophie, you have everything you need right here in the home I have so generously provided you. I believe I have made my intentions quite clear. As you say, the period of mourning is over, and I am pleased that you have done away with those hideous black dresses of yours. It is time we moved things along. You say you want a husband? I have offered you that and more. That is, once I determine whether you will suit.”

He shot a smirk her way. He had been more than clear on how he would assess whether or not she would do as his wife.

Her lecherous cousin had begrudgingly taking her in after the death of her parents. At first he was charming and kind, and she had been grateful for all he had done for her. But soon he had turned, showing his true self and deciding that she should warm his bed as payment for residing with him.

Sophie had been filled with revulsion at the suggestion and had made her stance quite clear – only for his propositions to become more than just words. A few weeks ago, she recalled with chilling detail, he had managed to get her alone and pin her against the wall, attempting to kiss her as he groped at her skirts. Sophie had brought up her knee, and he had doubled over in pain. That had been the day she’d taken her room key and put it on a chain around her neck. With the help of the housekeeper, they had hidden the remainder of the keys to her room, making it the sole place she could be safe.

The chain was delicate and she made sure never to allow her cousin to see it. He had demanded to know where the key was, of course, but she had simply refused to answer – and had then been forced to spend much of her time hiding in her room from his ensuing wrath. Without her key, she was not sure how she would have avoided his attentions.

She had been hopeful she could convince him to take her to London where, should she not find a suitable match, she could perhaps find a way to get away from him, taking a position as a governess or some such post.

“Besides, dear cousin,” he continued, “how could you be so cruel as to suggest we leave Mother?”

Malcolm’s mother lived in the country home with them, providing a sense of propriety to the entire situation. In truth, however, she was fairly ill and seldom left her chambers. Sophie was quite on her own, besides the servants who did all they could to provide her with warnings of her cousin’s moods so she was able to distance herself.

“You!” Sophie jumped at Malcolm’s sudden shout at the footman. “Come, refill my glass. Pay attention, boy, to when your lord requires you.”

Sophie cringed that her suggestion to Malcolm had roused his anger and Andrew, the footman, was having to deal with it. “Now, Sophie,” he continued, his mood flipping to one of smiles and charm. “Once we are finished, will you be ready to depart for Lady Jamison’s ball?”

Sophie felt sick at the thought of arriving on her cousin’s arm and conversing with the other guests as if nothing was the matter. Besides that, Lady Jamison’s home was some miles away, which would also require a carriage ride of some length with her cousin.

“I’m afraid I am feeling quite unwell, Malcolm,” she said, not untruthfully. “Would you mind so much if I stayed behind tonight?”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug as he tossed back the full glass Andrew had poured for him. “See, I told you, Sophie, this is where you are comfortable and this is where you shall remain.”

She nodded and rose to escape him. “Goodnight, then, Malcolm,” she said, and made for the door. She was nearly there when he shot out of his chair and with surprising speed and grace blocked her exit, backing her against the wall.

“Now, Sophie,” he said with a leer, “just be sure to be a good girl and wait up for me, will you? No hiding yourself away behind your locked door tonight.”

He leaned down towards her, but she managed to dodge his lips and slip out of the confines of his arms, making her way up the stairs as fast as she could as his laugh followed her, sending shivers of fear and revulsion down her spine.

She waited in her room, listening for him to leave as she sat in front of the well-built fire, revelling in the warmth it threw, the heat seeping through her chilled frame. The chill was, in fact, less due to the temperature of the room and more so because of the strain of her entire situation. She had to find a way to leave this place, to fend for herself.

With all her heart, she wished her mother and father still lived. They had been kind and loving, never once regretting that she was a girl and not the male heir. They had never managed to have another child, although Sophie knew they had longed for another. They’d lived quietly and simply, even though her father had been a viscount. He had never thrown his wealth and title around but had chosen to live well within their means.

Sophie had grown up enjoying the outdoors instead of balls and soirees. Even though she had been blessed with one season in London, she had not particularly enjoyed it. Her mother and father had been whispering about securing her marriage to a young, unattached titled gentleman in the next county. Upon hearing the description of the man, Sophie had become open to the idea – but all that had come to naught the moment her parents had left this earth.

Their death had been a tragic one, although not unheard of. A carriage accident over a steep, rocky hillside that had ended in their death. Sophie had gone from having two loving parents to being an orphan. It had been a heavy and difficult adjustment.

Mourning the loss of both parents had been heart-wrenching and, to this day, Sophie was not quite over the absence of them from her life. How much had changed since then. The will had handed over her father’s estate to a distant cousin, the Earl of Dunstable, with the promise that he would then care for Sophie until she found a husband of her own. Her father’s fortune was tied up in her matrimony. When she was married, the wealth would be settled on her as a dowry.

Of course, that left Sophie with very little of her own funds and at first she had thought of Malcolm, her cousin, as something of a savior. He had welcomed her to live at his estate much grander than her previous home, to where he now would not let her return. He had encouraged her to settle in and had given her the space and time she needed to mourn. However, it was as if he had grown impatient with her, and had begun to press his attentions onto her after only a few months, insisting that she must come to his bed and he would, in time, marry her.

At first, Sophie could not understand it and had rebuffed him easily enough. Although Malcolm was a handsome man, there was something behind his eyes that prevented her from ever truly trusting him – and, as far as she was concerned, you could not have a marriage if there was no trust to be had. He seemed wealthy and was certainly not without status, given that he now had her father’s estate as well as his own, but that had not appeared to be enough for him. He wanted her fortune as well.

When Sophie refused to lie with him, he pressed his advantage even further. It was as if he supposed that forcing himself on her would bring her so much shame she would have no other choice but to accept him. If she became with child then she could not allow the baby to grow up a bastard, and would, therefore, have to marry him. The situation was becoming unbearable and she was becoming desperate to find a way out. But how?