Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

T hey brought the horses back to the stables with a slow march, letting them catch their breath. William was the only one speaking, a gallon of excitement in his voice.

“I’ve never seen someone go so fast! I knew Violetta would make an exemplary racehorse. Didn’t I tell you, Thomas?” He smiled up at Sophia—the first she had received from the man. “Not that we can ignore your prowess, Your Grace.”

“That is very kind of you, William,” she said with a small measure of happiness.

Was she thawing the ice between herself and the Pratts, at last?

He even helped her get down from the saddle, though she needed no assistance.

“Truly breathtaking,” William said. “I mean it.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” she replied shyly, the praise somehow making her less comfortable than the vitriol.

The stablemaster came over to lead the horses inside, just as Thomas got off Lucille.

He is unusually quiet .

Sophia observed his stony face—stonier than usual—begging to have even an inkling of what he could possibly be thinking.

“Brother, would you mind leaving us alone? I’d like to have a word with my wife,” he said coolly.

William nodded and retreated towards the stables, where he would undoubtedly fawn over Violetta some more.

Sophia turned and plastered on her most innocent smile. “How can I help you, husband?”

A few moments passed in silence.

“You bested me,” Thomas said, his face unreadable.

“That I did. It was a very good race. You are an excellent rider, Thomas.”

“You are patronizing me,” he said with a smile.

Now, he’s smiling?

She doubted she would be able to understand him if she had a hundred years to get to know him.

“I am not. It was neck and neck, almost until the end. You don’t have to believe me, but I have my honor too. I’d never patronize an opponent either in the race or outside of it.”

“You also tricked me,” he said in a husky voice that reminded her of the library.

She gasped and then scoffed loudly , as if to make a point. “I would never?—”

“Sophia, you distracted me,” he insisted, coming closer. “You must have known what the promise of a favor would do to me. You must have known what I would think, what I would imagine. Had you mentioned it sooner, I would have pushed Lucille to her limit to receive such a favor. But my mind and my horse had no time to catch up, too busy dreaming of making you cry out my name, feeling you ride me instead.”

A second gasp slipped past her lips, for a very different reason. The suggestion of a wager hadn’t been planned, but the moment she’d spoken those words to him, her own mind had been overwhelmed with secret wants and desires. It was why she had ridden so hard to the finish line—to distract her own mind.

But what does he mean, to ride him instead?

Her cheeks flushed, her stomach flipping as her imagination did its best to bridge the gap in her knowledge. Judging by what had come before, it could only be a pleasurable event.

“Are you going to blame your loss on your own lack of discipline?” she croaked, her throat tight with longing.

“Of course not. I am just going to blame myself for not riding faster so I could ask for that favor. Alas, I doubt it’ll happen now.” He unfastened her headscarf and flexed the fabric between his hands, smiling. “The things I could do with this. What a pity.”

She gulped. “I didn’t expect you to be a graceful loser.”

“Graceful? No. Just patient.” He pulled the hair-slide from the back of her head, her dark hair tumbling loose. “But what of your favor?”

He was so close to her, his gaze flitting to her lips. They had been rudely interrupted during the ride back from the theater, but surely he wasn’t going to kiss her in the stable yard, where anyone might see them. She wanted him to, but she could not help feeling shy about the location.

“Be careful of what you ask,” he warned quietly. “You only get the one favor. Don’t waste it.”

I want what you have just mentioned. I want to know everything there is to know about what happens between man and wife. I want you to… enlighten me.

She held her tongue, too embarrassed, too cautious to say it out loud.

But he must have seen something in her eyes, for he dipped his head and brushed his lips against her own. It was the sort of kiss that was not nearly enough, just a tiny bite of the most delicious feast, tormenting her with the promise of more but shunning her from the figurative table.

He kissed her again, more deeply, more tortuously this time. She melted into him, no longer caring that it was so public.

“Name it,” he whispered against her lips. “Beg me for it.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t beg.”

“Then ask me so very, very nicely,” he purred, tempting her to untold heights.

She kissed him back, refusing to be beaten. “I must… think about it,” she panted. “I will… sleep on my decision. As you said, I… shouldn’t be hasty if I only get… one favor.”

Thomas pulled back, denying her another soaring kiss. He smiled down at her. “I will be waiting for your decision.” He bowed his head. “I hope you can bear the anticipation until then.”

Leaving her reeling, her entire body ablaze with a desire she could not satisfy, she watched him walk away, resisting the overpowering urge to run after him and demand a new lesson immediately. The only sort of lesson she was certain she would rise at the crack of dawn for.

“But isn’t it unorthodox for a woman to ride alongside men and participate in racing?” suggested Harriet in a haughty tone. “Women are supposed to look dainty and proper while riding, not participating in foolish and pointless competitions.”

The drawing room was abuzz with conversation. Both families were present and at full capacity, with the silent addition of Gregory’s daughter. While the families were slowly starting to warm up to each other, engaging in safe topics, Samuel and William sat on opposite sides of the room, still having a lot of ground to cover before they could reconcile.

“Learning how to ride with sufficient speed is a valuable skill, Your Grace,” Charles argued. “What if she had to outpace brigands on the road? You must know there has been trouble with highwaymen of late—it is in all the papers.”

“That is what a husband is for,” the Dowager Duchess replied tersely. “To protect. A lady should have no reason to be on the road alone.”

Please don’t let the discussion get heated again, Sophia prayed silently, wishing that she was not so heated.

Every time she caught Thomas gazing at her, a wildfire coursed through her veins, bringing her closer to just blurting out what she wanted for her favor.

Just then, Samuel made the strangest remark. “ I read in the papers that Lady Elspeth Bridgewater has recently returned from Scotland. Causing quite the stir, it seems.”

Half the room froze, and a shiver ran up Sophia’s spine as she noticed it. The Pratt half. Thomas, too, had drawn his gaze away from her, staring at Samuel like he wished he had a pistol in hand.

“You know her, Your Grace, don’t you?” Samuel smiled coldly at Thomas. “I heard you were very close to one another for a while, that everyone expected you to marry but it never came to fruition.”

Is that true?

Sophia willed Thomas to look at her, but he wouldn’t.

“An exaggeration,” he said in curt dismissal. “She was a friend to the family, not to me specifically. I was no closer to her than any other member present.”

Sophia relaxed, rubbing the heel of her palm against her chest to rid herself of the uneasy feeling there. A feeling she would never have expected to attack her out of nowhere, especially not when Thomas was concerned—jealousy.

Samuel opened his mouth as if he had more to say on the matter, and more poking of the bear to do, but the butler walked into the drawing room and cleared his throat, demanding everyone’s attention.

“Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Heathcote,” he said.

What? But she is already here…

Sophia frowned as Thomas immediately strode out into the hallway.

He returned with an elderly woman on his arm, bearing the weight of several dozen decades on her back. Most surprising of all, he was smiling, escorting her with the utmost care and affection.

Harriet, however, was not smiling. She sat rigid in her chair, her eyes wide as if she had seen a ghost, her lips pursed as if she had imbibed one of Pietro’s special brews.

“Was it a pleasant journey, Grandmother? Thank you for coming and braving the country roads,” Thomas said.

Sophia noticed something in his voice.

When he thanked his grandmother, it wasn’t with the fake cadence of someone performing a formality for appearances’ sake. No, this was genuine. There was real concern and warmth in his voice when he talked to her.

“Oh, thank you for inviting me, my darling boy. I don’t have a lot of excuses to leave the house lately.” The old woman had a raspy, pleasant laugh that seemed to widen Thomas’s smile.

He escorted her slowly to the settee and helped her down, fussing over her like a mother hen. Sophia had never seen him treat someone like this, even though he treated everyone with respect and spoke with reverence, always following the rules and etiquette to a tee.

But here, with his grandmother, he was different. He treated her with warmth. With tenderness. One would even say…

With love.

The man incapable of emotion, of feeling, apparently had one exception.