“And she’s”—he gulped as he pointed to Sophie—“your fiancée?” Sophie waited for some sort of supernatural sign to stir the air, branding Benedict as a liar, but to her surprise, nothing happened. Lady Bridgerton was even nodding. “You can’t marry her,” Araminta insisted. Benedict turned to his mother. “Is there any reason I need to consult Lady Penwood about this?” “None that I can think of,” Lady Bridgerton replied. “She is nothing but a whore,” Araminta hissed. “Her mother was a whore, and blood runs—urp!” Benedict had her by the throat before anyone was even aware that he had moved.
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