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Sophia frowned in confusion. Her brother was in attendance?

“Leech, I beg your indulgence. I have news that will benefit both of us greatly. Did you happen to see my sister?”

Lord Leech? Sophia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She encountered the man infrequently at social events. A scrawny, sallow figure with unkempt brown hair and a thick mustache, he flaunted a wicked reputation. Over the past few years, he had married two heiresses, both of whom had coincidentally died within months of their nuptials under suspicious circumstances. He was either an exceptionally unlucky man or, more likely, a despicable villain who had rid himself of his wives to claim their fortunes, all while leaving no evidence of his foul deeds. Though none openly accused him of murder, whispers of speculation followed wherever he went.

Unfortunately, Leech had powerful allies, which allowed him to remain within society despite his gruesome reputation as a possible wife-killer. However, fathers no longer offered their daughters to the fortune hunter in exchange for a title.

“The tall girl with the reddish-blonde hair and unbecoming white gown standing with your aunt? She looks worth a turn in the gardens. What about her?”

Sophia’s lip curled in disgust at the thought of accompanying such a reprobate to the gardens.

“That is her. Miss Sophia Hayward. A right spoilt little princess. It happens I was in my uncle’s study and stumbled on some interesting documents.”

“Stumbled? More like you searched his office. Are your gambling debts getting a little too deep to manage, Hayward?”

“Nothing I cannot deal with. Now let me tell you what I uncovered. The late Viscount Moreland—Sophia’s grandfather—apparently did not trust my father. When the marriage contracts for Sophia’s mother were negotiated, he took the rather unusual step of establishing a trust for the new Mrs. Hayward and any children resulting from the union. Since it was a separate trust, neither my father nor any of his creditors could make a claim on it. The old man ensured that his daughter and grandchildren would be taken care of, irrespective of my father’s financial management skills—which were very poor because he was a degenerate gambler.”

Sophia threw a hand up to cover her mouth, fearing she might chuckle. Her brother had the temerity to call their father a degenerate gambler? That was rich, considering his strong-arm tactics to seize her pin money for his own gambling habits.

“The point is, Sophia is the only grandchild from the union, and the old viscount must have been overly focused on preventing my father from controlling the funds because the trust does not provide specific protections for his grandchildren beyond that. It seems his solicitors failed to think past the immediate issue they were addressing. From what I understand, the entire trust will go to her husband if she marries—which, so far, has not been a risk. The silly chit cannot attract a man.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes at her brother’s nasty words. That is deliberate on my part, thank you very much!

Leech responded, “How much are we talking about?”

“Fifty thousand pounds.”

Sophia clamped both hands over her mouth to stifle the exclamation of astonishment struggling to escape. The two men fell silent.

Finally, Leech whistled through his teeth. “That is incredible. The Abbott family must be plump in the pocket. Why has no one snatched her up, then?”

“The Abbotts are very protective, and they have kept the size of her dowry a secret. Uncle Hugh must have developed an abhorrence of fortune hunters after my father ran through the marriage settlement and gambled away all his income and assets before dropping dead during a high-stakes card game.”

“And Moreland’s only sister died of an accidental laudanum overdose because of her weak nerves after that incident.” Leech’s sarcastic emphasis left little doubt he believed it was anything but accidental.

Sophia winced.

“Pity the mother passed after birthing a brat, or you might have had grounds to argue that the blunt should drop on you as the heir of your father’s estate.”

Sophia shivered, icy tendrils of fear threading through her veins. They were speaking of her as if she had never been born, and she suspected the idea of her nonexistence was a key part of their plan. She had always known there was little love lost between her and her brother, but hearing the cold disregard in his tone still cut deeply.

“If I were to help you marry her, I would want a guarantee that you would split the dowry with me.”

“What sort of help?”

“I can introduce you. And, when the time is right, I can let you into the house so you can take the little baggage to Gretna Green. I have read the terms of the trust, and there is nothing the viscount can do once she is legally married. The trust will be paid out because she is the only remaining beneficiary.”

That her brother would ally with this man to see her wed—likely with the possibility of her premature death factored into their calculations—was a chilling reminder of how little Cecil cared for his younger sister. Sophia struggled to calm her breathing as terror twisted in her stomach. There were few things that frightened her, but her brother’s gambling obsession and the lengths he would go to for money left no doubt he was capable of following through with the plan he had just outlined to Lord Leech.

She listened carefully as they reached an agreement on how to exploit her, and there was no doubt in her mind that both her freedom and her life were at risk. Years earlier, she had learned that her older brother, who bore a marked physical resemblance to their father but lacked his charm or pleasant manner, was ruthless in taking advantage of her. Any hope she had once held that they might repair their relationship was well and truly laid to rest.

When she first came out into society and began receiving a larger allowance, Cecil had confronted her in her room. Grabbing her arm in a tight grip that brought tears to her eyes, he had demanded she hand over her coin. Trembling from the pain, she had finally surrendered the reticule she had hidden in her dressing table.

He had taken it without hesitation, along with the silver-backed brush and mirror that had belonged to their mother. As he walked out the door, she had called after him, warning that Uncle Hugh would not be pleased.

Cecil had stopped in his tracks and returned, his expression dark. Gripping her arm even tighter, he had hissed, “If Uncle Hugh hears about this, you will regret it, little sister—more than you have ever regretted anything before this day.”

Sophia had struggled to free herself from his iron hold, but the determination in his eyes had been equally matched by the threat in his words.