Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

S ophia walked over to the windowsill and opened one of the windows to ventilate the room when she heard a croaky voice call from a few meters behind her.

“You! Yes, you, dear. Come over.” It was Rosamund, Thomas’s grandmother, gesturing for her to come closer.

Sophia obliged and did as such.

“What can I help you with?”

She felt the old lady reach out and softly pull her close, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“This is a bit embarrassing, dear, but I need some help,” Rosamund said as her gaze wandered around the room. “One of the ladies here is my grandson’s new wife… Do you know which one it is? I can’t tell them apart—my eyes don’t see as well as they used to. Is it the woman with the tall hat?” She pointed to Lydia and her monstrous headpiece. “The hunched one over there, perhaps?” She waved towards Gregory’s daughter. “I’d like to talk to her, but I want to avoid talking to my daughter-in-law…” she explained.

Sophia felt her face flush, not knowing what to do.

“Oh my, this is embarrassing, indeed.” She cleared her throat. “Your Grace, I am your grandson’s wife.”

Rosamund turned and looked at her in shock and gasped loudly.

“Oh, mercy me, I am so very sorry,” she said, and her old body erupted in that raspy, contagious laugh.

Sophia wasn’t impervious, laughing along so hard that she had to cover her mouth.

“Oh, but look at you. Come closer, I need to look at you…” Rosamund urged as her laughter petered out.

Sophia gulped but humored her nonetheless as the old woman cupped a palm around her cheek, feeling what she could not see clearly. “Oh, by the summer fields and the winter nights, you are exquisite. Skin as soft as silk, unlike my leathery visage.” She cackled again. “You are positively immaculate.”

“What leathery visage? I shan’t hear you say such things about yourself,” Sophia insisted, a lump forming in her throat at the old woman’s compliments. “ You are immaculate, and if I look like you when I am older, I shall be overjoyed.”

The old woman patted her hand. “Oh please, I look like a half-eaten prune. My eyes might be failing, but I can see myself in a mirror.” She smiled. “I know myself well enough, and I’m happy. Not everyone gets the chance to grow old and ugly.”

“Then the mirror is lying.” Sophia knelt at the side of the armchair, her eyes drawn to the fine embroidery on Rosamund’s gown. “Goodness, what an extraordinary dress.”

Rosamund’s rheumy eyes lit up. “Thank you, my dear. It’s Italian. A Mandolini. I bought it a few decades ago, during a visit to Venice.”

“ The Mandolini?” Sophia gasped. “The dressmaker who made the former Queen’s wedding dress? That Mandolini?”

Rosamund nodded and smiled. “You have heard of him?”

“Heard of him? His work is famous… But you said a few decades ago—this looks like it was purchased yesterday!”

“Ah, that’s because I have been maintaining it on my own.”

“You have been maintaining a Mandolini? By yourself?”

“Don’t be so impressed, my dear. It’s simpler than it looks. The Mandolini house provides instructions with their purchases.”

“Still that’s—It’s such detailed work, and it looks… well, it looks pristine!”

Rosamund chuckled. “I just know how to use a needle. And I have always enjoyed embroidery, so it is no great chore.”

Sophia’s eyes widened with excitement, but she immediately collected herself. “Your Grace, please, you need to teach me. I’ve always wanted to do embroidery, but I never had anyone to teach me.”

Horse riding and shooting and archery she could do, but the more feminine exploits had never been part of her lessons. In truth, it felt as if she was getting her education out of order, ending with dancing and etiquette and embroidery, while she should have begun with it. Not that she was sorry about the way she had done things.

“Oh, but I would love to,” Rosamund gushed, gripping Sophia’s hand just a little bit tighter.

Thomas wasn’t listening to his brother and uncle, concentrating instead on the other side of the room, where Sophia and Rosamund were sitting next to each other and talking.

Huh…

His father may have instilled in him the values and rules of their family and taught him the importance of respect, but his grandmother had taught him something much more important.

Kindness.

And here she was, having what seemed to be the most pleasant conversation in the world with what should have been her mortal enemy. They were exchanging words and expressions, laughing, and she was holding Sophia’s hand as if she were her own child.

Indeed, he could not remember her voicing a hateful thought about the Kendalls, not a single time—even when she would have had absolutely every reason to, for she had been around in the earliest decades of the feud, when it was far fresher, far rawer than now.

She got along with everyone, that he was sure of, but he rarely saw her behave so amiably towards anyone after mere seconds of conversation.

He blinked his eyes as he heard William call out his name. Gregory had seemingly moved away.

“Have you seen her yet?” asked William.

“Seen her? Who?” Thomas responded, completely ignorant of the conversation.

“Are you drunk, Brother? Lady Elspeth . Did you know she was back? I bet you did, you sly dog.”

“No, I haven’t seen her. I didn’t know she was back,” he answered with a sigh. “And I have no intention of seeing her, so you may drop the matter or leave me to drink in peace.”

“What? Why?” William scrunched up his face. “You mean to tell me you are going to stay faithful to?—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Thomas said abruptly. “Life and duty might be a joke to you, but not to me. I am a married man, William. And I plan to stay married. End of conversation. Never mention her again.”

Why would I want anyone else, when I crave my wife to the point of madness? he neglected to add, praying that Samuel’s deliberately incendiary comment from earlier wouldn’t give Sophia doubts about what favor she wanted to ask for. That was precisely why he also needed others to stop talking about it.

“But it’s Lady Elspeth!” William urged. “You’d be a fool not to rekindle that old flame.”

Thomas shot him a savage look. “Enough.”

“I bet you did, you sly dog.”

Neither Thomas nor William had noticed Sophia passing them to fetch Rosamund a glass of water earlier, and they likely had not considered that they could be easily overheard. Sophia had not paused to confront them, an ache in her chest hurrying her along before she heard something that might truly hurt.

But now that she was alone in the library, with no company but her thoughts, it was all she could think about.

Elspeth… Who is she?

And what was this new feeling inside her? It stung and crawled up her spine like an ant. She wasn’t supposed to care, she wasn’t supposed to be affected, she wasn’t supposed to give a single hoot about the life Thomas had before her, or the life he might have while he was married to her.

The cushion of the reading chair was uncharacteristically uncomfortable. She had recently made a habit of spending a lot of time there and immersing herself in different books, but that evening, she found herself restless.

She closed her book and stood up. Her mind was in a riot, juggling several thoughts together—but none of them made sense. Why had she felt like that? Why did she still feel like that? Why had this feeling shown up out of nowhere when she hadn’t asked for it? It ate away at her mind as she paced around the room.

How long has he known her? Are they still in contact? And what if ? —

“Stop it,” she hissed to herself. “This is ridiculous. Just ask , don’t tie yourself in knots!”

She steadied herself against the armrest and took a few deep breaths. That done, she walked out. She knew Thomas would be in his study, and she was going to pay him a visit.

She wouldn’t be undermined; she couldn’t allow that. This had nothing to do with their sham of a marriage, but everything to do with her sense of self-respect. If he wanted to take lovers, she had every right to know, and every right to demand the same liberty in return… as a formality, if not a reality.

“Who is Elspeth?” she asked, striding into her husband’s sanctuary.

Thomas lifted his head from the stack of papers that never seemed to get any smaller. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Elspeth—who is she? Is she someone I should meet? Is she a lover I should know about? A wife should know about her husband’s paramours, shouldn’t she?”

Sophia hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt, but after the way he had teased her in the stable yard, she couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t be another notch on his bedpost.

“Sophia, this is beneath you,” he said too calmly.

“I don’t think it is.” She sniffed. “Besides, you owe me a favor.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “And that is how you want to waste it? By commanding me to reply to silly questions? It’s disappointing, but very well—Lady Elspeth is no one. I haven’t seen her in years, and I don’t intend to now. Lovers are not appropriate for a duke’s heir, and they’re not appropriate for a duke either.”

Her jaw slackened, hearing the sense in what he said. He was honorable and regimented to a fault, more likely to start singing unprompted than dallying. She had let her brother get into her head—a man who would have done anything, even at her expense, to get one last shot at the Pratts.

Now, she had lost the favor she had been saving.

“No… this isn’t what I wanted,” she said urgently, and Thomas sat back, his posture relaxing. “I have had time to think, and I have decided.”

Thomas shrugged and crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue.

“I would like to borrow something from you,” she said uncertainly.

“Borrow?”

“Yes.”

“We are married, Sophia. What belongs to me belongs to you. Take anything you want—keep it if you want,” he said with indifference, waving a hand at her.

“In that case, I’d like to borrow… you.”

She expected him to look confused or angry.

Nothing. He had the same solid-faced expression as if he had just been told that the weather tomorrow would be the same.

“That’s not something you can borrow, and you know it,” he said evenly. “Do you realize what you are asking of me?”

“We are husband and wife, are we not? I’m just…” She stumbled on her words for a bit. “I’m curious. I’m just curious… I am not na?ve, Thomas. I know we don’t love each other, and I know I’ll probably never find someone who truly loves me. I know I’ll never experience lovemaking . But I still want to try it. That’s why I said borrow, not have.”

“It will complicate things,” he said, rising slowly from his chair.

She groaned, and her face dropped. A few moments of silence filled the air. “You are right. Please forget I said anything.”

She turned to leave, furious with herself.

How could she have allowed herself to even think that he would agree to her favor? Clearly, he had just been toying with her in the stable yard, or she had asked for too much.

You are an idiot. A blithering, stupid idiot.

“Sophia,” she heard him shout behind her, and she turned, freezing in place. He sounded furious.

Oh no… what have I done?

He moved towards her, his face contorted into a violent mask of anger.

I went too far. I shouldn’t have done that…

It was finally going to happen. What she had been warned about. The legacy of the Pratt family and their violent tendencies. Murderers and bullies, their lot, was what her uncle always said. This was what she had always been afraid of, and it was finally about to happen.

She closed her eyes and flinched, expecting the worst.

She felt Thomas place his hands on her shoulders and then…

“I never said I was against complicating things,” he murmured, and then kissed her with such passion that it would have knocked her off her feet if his arm had not encircled her waist, pulling her to him.

Her body was overtaken with an immediate but conflicted sense of relief as she kissed him back without hesitation, praying that when she turned the metaphorical page, it would not be like her books, leaving her guessing.

“I have to have clarity,” he said, breaking the kiss for a moment. “What is it you want?”

She swallowed thickly. “I want…” Her heart leaped. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“I must insist,” he replied, cradling her face.

She took a deep breath. “I want… you, Thomas. That is my favor.”

“With pleasure,” he whispered, bringing his lips closer to hers. “Yours and mine.”