Happily Ever After Read Online Free Page A

take her aboard his vessel, she certainly
had the means to do so.
    She hurried Jonathon along. “My father will much
appreciate your ... integrity,” she told him, seeing him to the door, “and you
can be certain I will tell him how sweet you were to consider
my—our—interests.”
    “Of course,” Jonathon replied, nodding, confusion
furrowing his brow. And then he looked down his nose at her with that familiar
mocking arrogance that always managed to clench her jaw. “My dear... would you
like me to return and bear witness while you tell your father?” His tone was
quite hopeful, but she knew his offer had nothing to do with any concern for
her. He wanted her father to know what he had done—that he had betrayed
Harlan for his daughter’s honor—for Vanderwahl honor.
    “Oh, no, no!” Sophie replied, patting his arm
reassuringly. “It will go much better
if you are nowhere near when he reads Harlan’s letter, Jonathon. Trust me, he
will be quite apoplectic, I assure you! I would sorely regret it if you were
the one to endure the brunt of his wrath in Harlan’s stead. After all, you were
only looking out for my best interests ... isn’t that true?” She gave him a
canny glance. Sophie hoped the question filled him with guilt, although she
knew a moment’s discomfort was the most she could hope for. She was coming to
understand that women meant little to men like Jonathon and Harlan. Women were
mere pawns—expendable for the greater good.
    She smiled to see that he nodded jerkily. “Yes ...
yes, indeed ... that wouldn’t be good at all.” And he withdrew a kerchief from
his pocket, dabbing his brow.
    Sophie nodded portentously. “As you know, Father
is quite protective.” And he was, indeed, fiercely protective of their name.
    “Of course,” Jonathon replied as Sophie opened the
door. “As it should be... as it should be.” His brows drew together, and he
hesitated, clearly uncertain over the fruit of his labors. She knew it had not
gone quite as he’d hoped. She ought to let him be there when her father read
Harlan’s letter. It would serve him well to witness Maxwell Vanderwahl’s
wrath... except that Sophie wasn’t about to show her father the letter... not
yet.
    She lifted Jonathon’s hat from the rack by the
door and set it atop his head, smiling up at him. She patted it firmly. “Goodbye,
dear Jon!” she declared.
    Her mother would have been quite proud to see how
well she kept her calm.
    She opened the door wider, barely restraining
herself from shoving him out into the street and rushing up the stairs. She was
suddenly eager to begin preparations.
    Her parents would be in Paris until the end of the
month. By the time they returned, it would be too late to stop her. She was no
longer a child and she certainly had every right to deal with her fiancé any
way she felt appropriate—even if it wasn’t quite appropriate.
    Jonathon took a step out the door, then stepped
back over the threshold, barring her from closing the door. “B-But if your
father isn’t here, Sophia, then perhaps I should stay! To be certain you don’t
become too disheartened.”
    Sophie pushed him gently out the door. “No, but
thank you!”
    Harold, God bless him, made himself known in that
instant, standing like a sentinel at the end of the hall. He said nothing but
cleared his throat discreetly, and Jonathon remembered himself at once.
    “Goodbye!” she said firmly when he opened his
mouth to protest.
    “Yes... very well, then... goodbye,” he stammered,
and left at last.
    Sophie slammed the door behind him. She turned to
lean against it and in an instant of weakness, tears pricked at her eyes as she
clutched the letter. She felt ill-used and trampled, but she refused to feel
this way for long.
    Harold stood looking at her with his hands behind
his back.
    “If I may be so bold to say so, Miss Sophia, I
have never liked that young man!”
    She smiled gently at him. “I know. That will be
all, Harold,”