Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

“ W hat of the arrangements regarding the Summertons? Are they still expressing doubts?” Thomas signed one last document as he finished his question, throwing a side glance at Gregory, who sat opposite, oblivious to what had taken place on the desk where he rested his elbows.

“No, a letter arrived this morning with a statement.”

“And?”

“They shall honor the previous agreement.”

Thomas sighed with relief at the answer. “Finally. How typical of them to tease us like that.”

“You know they relish the chase—it is why they are such capable hunters.”

“They can keep it to themselves. Business is business, not sport.” He stood up and walked over to the liquor cabinet, grabbing a familiar whiskey bottle.

Gregory smiled, and Thomas noticed, pausing before he poured two measures.

“I have a feeling there’s something you aren’t telling me, Uncle.”

Gregory shook his head and tried to say something but was quickly interrupted by the study door flying open. Sophia burst in with all the excitement of a puppy.

“You need to clear your schedule,” she declared, her eyes flitting to the desk for half a second, not unnoticed.

“Why? Are we under invasion?” Thomas continued to pour the two drinks. “Has the King regained his faculties? Or is the moon perhaps falling on our heads?”

“Very amusing,” she said drily. “There’s a very important event tomorrow night at the town theater—ergo, I need you to have no prior engagement.”

An awkward silence fell over the room as Gregory and Thomas exchanged glances, while Sophia kept her gaze firmly fixed on her husband.

“Is it… a social event?” Thomas asked, eventually.

“In a sense,” she replied. “There is a local troupe staging a famous play, and as the Duchess of Heathcote, I ought to know the talent of those in the vicinity of the dukedom.”

Thomas frowned. “And why is that so world-endingly important that you barged into my study without even knocking?”

Sophia looked perplexed for a bit. She walked backward and out of the room, closing the door as she retreated.

Then, she knocked on the door.

Gregory couldn’t help but chuckle as Thomas rolled his eyes.

“This is the Duchess of Heathcote. Can I come in, please?”

“Oh, for pity’s sake…” Thomas walked over and opened the door with a light frustration. “Will you just—” He gestured aggressively towards the room.

Sophia bowed with grace and a smile, walking in. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Thomas took a sip of his whiskey, feeling he might need it. “Firstly, what is the play?”

“Romeo and Juliet. I have always wanted to see it, but Papa loathes the theater, so I have never had the opportunity,” she explained, revealing her true motivation. It had very little to do with the dukedom and more to do with her testing her freedom.

“All right. I hope you have nothing but the best of times.” He gave her a thin smile as her expression dropped.

“But I-I?—”

“Sophia, if you are about to suggest that we attend the play together, then I suggest you rethink what our living situation actually entails.”

Sophia fell silent.

Thomas looked at her confused face for a second and then realized what he had done. A tiny pang of guilt pinched him under the ribs.

“You understand that I am under no obligation to escort you to every social event, correct?”

“Yes, I suppose I understand,” she said, looking away from him.

“That’s exactly why you should go,” Gregory interjected, surprising them both.

“Uncle?”

“You both have concerns about convincing the ton of the legitimacy of your marriage, correct?” They exchanged glances and looked back at him. “I may be old, but I still have eyes, Thomas, and I can see clearly.”

“What are you suggesting then?” Thomas took another steadying sip of his whiskey.

“It has been almost a week since the garden party. That was a roaring success, and people are starting to believe, so you must strike while the iron is still relatively hot. Invitations to balls and dances and soirees will not arrive until after the end of your honeymoon, but when they do, they will be addressed to both the Duke and the Duchess.” Gregory nodded towards both of them. “Get ahead of it. Attend events together that are not mandatory in the eyes of the ton, and the ton will think that you went because you wanted to, not because you had to. And that conveys the message that you want, I think.” He shrugged. “Goodness, it might even do your relationship some good to spend time together outside of this manor.”

Thomas swirled his drink, hating how much sense his uncle made.

“Not to mention,” Gregory added with a smirk, “my nephew’s schedule is already empty.”

Sophia’s eyes lit up. “Is that true, Thomas?”

Thomas sighed, rubbing two fingers over the bridge of his nose. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Another small silence fell between them.

What is your intent here, Uncle? To torment or to truly help?

“I, for one… think this is an excellent idea,” Sophia said, moving to the desk. She brushed her fingertips across the smooth mahogany, conjuring up images in Thomas’s head that he had been striving to push away.

He groaned and downed what was left in his glass. “Very well. My uncle’s advice has never led me astray before.”

“So, does this mean…” Sophia whirled around, her hand clasped to her bosom.

“Yes. We shall attend that play,” he replied. “Although, if you think there will be any Barbary pirates, you will be sorely disappointed. We would have to wait for Hamlet or Pericles if you want pirates.”

Sophia blinked, her cheeks pinkening. “Well, you are the Duke. If this play is any good, maybe you can make a request.”

He almost laughed at her quick wit but schooled his expression into indifference just in time.

He waved a hand at her. “There are folios in the library if you wish to read it before we attend. If you would prefer it to be a surprise, I am certain there are other things you can do.”

Sophia bowed her head with a smile, once to him and once to Gregory, who bowed his head back. And then she exited, her soft yelp of excitement drifting back to Thomas’s ears.

“Do me a favor, Nephew,” Gregory said, once her footsteps in the hallway had petered out into the quiet.

Thomas turned. “Hm?”

“Do try to have fun tomorrow.”

“It’s a play, Uncle. What fun is there to be had? I am inclined to agree with her father on this one—you just sit motionless for hours as people pretend on a wooden stage.” Thomas puffed out his chest. “I have seen countless plays and have not once been moved to anything but yawns.”

Gregory chuckled in response. “Just try. You never know—this could be the play that changes your mind.”

“Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues!” screamed the thespian with conviction, his heart and soul dripping through his performance.

Lord and Lady Capulet entered the scene in their extravagant gowns.

“What noise is this? Give me my longsword, ho!”

“A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword?”

Thomas placed a hand on his temple and rubbed it.

What is the point of all of this? They are just… spouting lines out loud. It’s all just… pointless.

He looked to his left. Sophia was on the edge of her seat, the biggest, prettiest smile on her face, her hands steepled under her chin. A mix of emotions, far greater than any the actors could muster, weaved together in his chest—fascination, annoyance, even a bit of jealousy. He doubted he had ever felt such enthusiasm for anything in his entire life; he had had no time for leisurely pursuits.

“You realize this isn’t real, right?” he whispered to her.

“What?” she turned, confused.

“This isn’t real. It’s not even historical.”

Sophia sighed in his face. “Hasn’t it?”

“No, of course it hasn’t.”

She gestured to the stage. “Two families locked in a lengthy feud, so volatile and bloody that even the citizens of Verona are sick and tired of it? Why else do you think they are shouting, ‘Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues!’ Everyone is weary of it.”

He blinked in surprise. “I thought you said you had never seen this.”

“I took your advice and read it,” she retorted.

“Yes, well, it’s… childish.”

She sniffed. “The feud or the performance?”

“The theater is for children and those with nothing better to do,” he replied, needing to regain his pragmatic position.

“Yes.” Sophia nodded sarcastically. “That is why the entire theater is filled to the brim with children. Obviously.”

Thomas looked around. The theater was indeed filled to the brim… with other local nobles, minor but not insignificant. There was not a single child among them, and most were as rapt as Sophia had been a moment ago. The theater was one of the finest outside of London, and with the majority of families at their country seats for the summer, it made sense that the theater was more popular than it otherwise might have been.

But no… they must be doing it because they are socially obligated, aren’t they? Are they… Could I be the wrong one here?

His thoughts felt muddled. No one liked being wrong, but he also didn’t like people who could never admit they were wrong.

“You don’t do anything for the amusement of it, do you?” Sophia challenged, staring at him strangely.

“What does that mean?”

“You know… to pass the time?”

“Why would I need to do that? Time passes by itself.”

“Oh, you know what I mean… things you do for entertainment, for leisure, to fill the day!” A sharp look from another couple in the adjacent box quietened her, and she offered them an apologetic look.

Thomas nodded with a self-satisfied smirk, the one that he knew annoyed her. “Now that explains everything.”

“What? What does it explain?”

“What you don’t seem to understand, Sophia, is that the life of a duke—or, indeed, a duchess—is not one of leisure and idle merriment and wasted time. I am constantly busy.”

“Constantly?” She turned more of her body towards him. “Every waking hour and every waking minute and every waking second?”

“Without exception.”

Thomas had expected to see a look of admiration on her face, a look that would say, I can’t believe you work so hard—what a marvel you are.

But instead… there was a sad look. A pitying look.

Does she… does she feel sorry for me?

In all of his years, in all of his endeavors, successes and failures, he had never seen someone look at him like that. Most people feared him. A lot of people hated him. Only a handful of people actually cared about him. But no one, no one had ever felt sorry for him.

She turned and looked away before he could ask anything, and he almost felt relief. But the questions didn’t stop in his head.

What did she mean? What was her goal? What did she want from him?

Why did she look at me like that? And why do I care?

He drowned the questions in his mind and calmed down, realizing he was tapping his foot. He forced himself to stop that as well.

Haven’t done that in years… curses…

As Sophia returned her attention to the play, Thomas thought back on his life. There must have been a time when he could feel what she felt. A time when he enjoyed simple, little, silly stories just for the sake of them and felt no need to pick them apart or call them a waste of time.

He could just about recall a moment like that, long ago, and felt his heart sink—another feud had stolen that from him, a feud he had tried to push out of his mind. A feud that, now that he thought about it, he had the power to end.