Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

“ A re you sure I can’t help you, Your Grace?”

“No, Penny, I am quite capable,” Sophia replied with a smile, folding the last of her clothes and stowing them away in their rightful place. “Although I thank you for your company and supervision. I am still learning.”

Penny fidgeted with the cuffs of her sleeves. “But it is my duty, Your Grace. You’ll have me relieved of my employment if you do everything yourself.”

“No one needs to know. Your companionship can be your duty,” Sophia insisted. “And there will be plenty of times when I can’t do something by myself. Styling my hair, for example. I wouldn’t have the first notion of how to do that .”

The maid seemed appeased. “Very well, Your Grace.”

An awkward silence fell between them as Sophia realized she had no more clothes to keep her busy—rather, to keep thoughts of Thomas from invading her mind.

“Has my husband… said or done anything important while I was gone?” she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone.

“Anything important?” Penny frowned. “Uhm… no? Not really. He has been uncharacteristically… uh… reserved.”

“In what sense?”

Penny shrugged. “Usually, he’d talk about business with his uncle and the Dowager Duchess during breakfast and luncheon, but he has been very quiet in your absence, mostly taking his meals in his study.”

“Oh?” Sophia cleared her throat. “Is he unwell, perhaps?”

“If he is, then I am not aware of it,” Penny replied. “He has not requested any medicines or special soups.”

“Well… thank you for your assistance. I have some letters to write, and would relish a cup of chamomile tea if one can be prepared?”

Penny curtseyed. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Clearly glad to have a purpose, she exited the room in a rush.

Sophia’s return to the house had been accompanied by minimal fanfare, and that was exactly what she preferred. She did have a gnawing thought at the back of her mind, however, born from the fact that Thomas had seemingly ignored the days of her absence. He hadn’t even sent someone to check on her during her stay at Rosamund’s. But Penny’s words confused her even more.

I am not going to bring my pride down just for him. If he wants to talk to me, he can come and find me himself. I shall not chase an explanation.

She pressed her lips together in anger as she slammed the drawer shut on her petticoats and lingered there for a moment, her hands braced on the dresser. Every instinct inside her was at war with her thoughts, urging her to seek out her husband and demand answers.

I won’t. I am above that… aren’t I?

She pushed away from the dresser, and with a resigned breath, she stormed out of the room.

Just don’t think about it. Don’t. Just go. Go and find him. You have every right to demand an explanation. A duchess acts, and I am a duchess.

She approached his study and slowed down, realizing she was panting.

I don’t need to show him I was in a hurry.

Sophia slowed her breathing and opened the door to his study without knocking, ready to launch into a tirade. What she found was not at all what she had expected.

Thomas was not sitting at his desk but on a chair, skimming through a lengthy document. He raised his head in surprise as she entered, but he relaxed as soon as he saw her, expelling what was unmistakably a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said and turned his attention back to the document.

You could at least pretend you aren’t enthused to see me .

“I hope your stay at Rosamund’s house was fruitful,” he continued in a bland tone.

More than you’d believe .

Sophia kept her exciting discovery to herself, biding her time.

“Rosamund sends her regards and well wishes.” She approached slightly, wanting to observe him, but she kept her distance. He didn’t look well. A set of dark crescents had formed under his eyes, and his shoulders were hunched. “Are you…” She gestured towards him, and he looked back at her, confused.

“What is this?” He mimicked her gesture.

“Are you well?” she replied a tad too tersely. “You look under the weather.”

“A few rough nights,” he said stiffly. “Think I might have eaten something that didn’t agree with me. I don’t suppose my grandmother sent you back with some sort of concoction for an ailment like that, did she?”

No, but I have a remedy for an eighty-year-old disease.

He stood up, the weakness in his posture still prevalent.

“She didn’t, but I could fetch you something,” she said with a neutral expression, but Thomas completely ignored her.

“You should make some preparations for tomorrow. We are attending a garden party at the Rutherfords’ estate.”

“Very well. I have the perfect gown.”

The Mandolini piece had added twice the weight to her valise and had taken some stuffing to fit in the case, but nothing would have compelled her to leave such a gift behind.

Thomas walked away from her, his attention fixed firmly on the papers in his hands. He returned to his desk and didn’t say another word. He didn’t even bother to spare an eyeball to look at her.

Not even a “need anything else?”

Sophia felt her cheeks flush and felt a sudden need to disappear from this place, and so she did. She stormed out, not a word out of her mouth either. Once she was back in the hallway, a closed door between them, she felt herself stewing, not realizing she was scratching her arm in annoyance.

What else did I expect?

His note had said everything he wanted to say to her. He didn’t want to pretend anymore. He didn’t want anything to do with her, not even to insult her. Maybe their night together had been insult enough.

Sophia felt her tears welling up but immediately scolded herself and pushed them down.

No! This changes nothing. I’ll tell him about what I discovered, for our families’ sake, but I can’t care more than that. I won’t. He only lay with me because I asked him to—fulfilling a favor.

She took a few deep breaths and brought herself down to earth again. She still had a duty to herself and her own family. She returned to her room and put a leash around her thoughts, using the preparations for tomorrow as an excuse to not think about him.

The diary helped some. Her situation was nothing compared to Eliza’s, though she could understand how gut-wrenching it was to hold happiness in one’s hands for only a few seconds before it was torn away forever.

I won’t end up like that. I won’t repeat history.

Of that, she was certain.

“Thomas, you scoundrel! You thought you were going to spend the afternoon hiding from me?” Thomas heard a familiar voice behind him.

He turned with a smirk to face his old friend, Robert Skinner, the Viscount Redcliffe.

“Good afternoon to you, too.” He punctuated his sentence with an extension of his arm as they shook hands. “Exaggerating, as usual. I wasn’t hiding from anyone. Isn’t this one of the most public balconies at this party?”

He gestured towards the throngs of people talking around them, who were casting sly judgment on the dancers below. A perfect spot for gossipmongers.

“That Rutherford fellow knows how to throw a gathering, doesn’t he?” Robert said, leaning on the balustrade.

“I wouldn’t know. All parties look the same to me.”

“That’s because you are a killjoy, my friend,” said Robert with a wide smile. “I doubt you would have hosted your own party at all if it wasn’t for your wife.”

Thomas pulled a face. “My mother, actually.”

“Well, either way, I hope it wasn’t the last time. You have one of the finest manors in the country—you are obliged to show it off.”

Thomas caught a light blue shimmer walking up the stairs, holding two glasses of punch in her hands. It was the most beautiful gown he had ever seen, clusters of beads twinkling in the ambient light, the shape of it more daring than the fashion of the day. Yet, it was timeless. Exquisite. The sort of gown that royalty might wear, and Sophia did look like royalty, with a glittering diadem woven into her hair.

Is that why she wanted us to arrive separately?

Thomas barely had time to prepare himself for her approach.

“Thomas…” Robert nudged him. “A goddess seems to be walking in our direction.”

Thomas cleared his throat. “My wife, actually.”

Robert gasped, his eyes widening. “You lucky duck, Thomas. You lucky, lucky duck.”

She practically glided towards them, handing one of the glasses to Thomas. He took it reluctantly, realizing how it looked if his wife was the one fetching drinks for them. He should’ve been doing it.

“Sophia, let me introduce you to Robert Skinner, the Viscount Redcliffe, and my most trusted friend and confidant,” he said stiffly.

Robert swept in to take Sophia’s hand, kissing her silken glove with far too much enthusiasm. “Your Grace, you are positively sparkling tonight.” He flashed her a grin. “Thomas has regaled me with countless stories of your beauty and grace, yet they all pale in comparison to reality. I thought a foreign queen had graced us with her presence.”

Sophia chuckled loudly at that statement—it was a crystal-clear laugh and one that Thomas hadn’t heard too often. He felt a pang of jealousy in his chest.

That ugly, little green demon had the tendency to show up in the most inconvenient of places.

“Oh, but Lord Redcliffe, don’t you know that it’s unbecoming to lie to a lady, much less a duchess, the very first time you meet her?” Sophia asked with a mischievous smile. “I know for a fact that Thomas is not one to spout stories left and right, especially about my good qualities. My bad ones, though—that is a lot more likely.”

She sipped her punch as Robert looked back at Thomas with a slack jaw.

“Oh, I like her very much,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. “Indeed, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you finally, Your Grace. And I wish you the best of luck in thawing the iceberg of a man I call my friend.”

Sophia laughed again, the sound digging into Thomas’s heart.

“Thank you, Lord Redcliffe. If you can recommend any good pickaxes, I could use the assistance,” she responded.

Robert chuckled heartily, finally letting go of her hand.

At that, relief soothed the jealousy in Thomas’s chest. They were just jesting, getting acquainted—wasn’t that what every man wanted for his wife and his dearest friend?

“Robert, would you mind keeping my wife company for a few minutes? I need to have a private talk with Lord Rutherford,” Thomas said, suddenly remembering he had a social responsibility to fulfill.

Robert smiled. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

Thomas walked away from both of them, feeling momentarily at ease, knowing he didn’t have to look at her for a bit. Though he felt a slight prickle at the back of his neck as he wandered off, as if someone was watching him intently, burning a hole into him.

Thomas was bored out of his mind. Lord Rutherford was quite an older man, with a voice that droned over dull subjects, pausing to give hope that he was ending his speech before he struck up a new one to dash that hope.

Even though Thomas had spent a lifetime training for discussions like these and saw it as another necessary part of his title, today he found his eyes glazing over, and he had to ask for clarification or for things to be repeated multiple times.

It must be the lack of sleep .

He calculated all of his sleeping hours during the last week. Most nights, he could count them on one hand. Something Sophia-shaped had been keeping him up at night, eating away at him, tormenting him.

Thomas scratched his chin absentmindedly. His skin was rough and itchy, and he felt the slight prick of tiny hair.

What on earth?

Had he really left the house without shaving?

What’s wrong with you?

He felt his breath quickening, and suddenly, the rest of the world didn’t exist, melting into a blur. He felt aware of himself, of his body, of his clothes, of his existence, but nothing beyond it.

You left her after making love to her. You were craven then, and you are being craven now… That would disappoint your father more than anything.

He blinked himself back into the present and looked directly at where he knew Sophia and Robert would be.

She was laughing, her hand clutching at her chest, her eyes glittering with joy. She was laughing with reckless abandon, the sound echoing in the air like tiny bells. His wife was laughing with another man, and, worst of all, he had encouraged it.

“And so, Your Grace, what is your opinion on the matter?” asked Rutherford, drawing his attention.

Thomas blinked quickly and turned his head. He needed an exit.

“I… I am so sorry, My Lords, but I’m afraid I’m not very good company tonight. I must be coming down with something, I fear. I can barely hold myself together,” he added with a fake laugh.

The other lords grumbled and expressed several words of agreement.

“If you will excuse me, I think I shall leave early tonight,” he said and retreated from the conversation.

“Oh, but Lord Redcliffe, you’ll need to excuse me. I am positively famished,” Sophia said, fearing she was drawing too much attention to herself, being in the company of a man who wasn’t her husband while wearing a Mandolini gown.

Pleasant company, yes, but she couldn’t be seen enjoying herself too much.

“Far be it from me to deny a duchess her dinner.” Robert bowed with respect, punctuating his sentence. “Until we meet again, Your Grace.”

Sophia bowed in kind and retreated, her eyes immediately darting around, looking for the refreshment room. Her stomach was already grumbling, and she felt a bit foolish, starting her evening with a glass of punch. Even in small quantities, it could absolutely decimate a stomach… and one’s inhibitions.

She had just made it down the stairs, following the scent of mouthwatering food, when a hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder tightly, surprising her.

“I beg your par—” She turned with a mix of confusion and fear. “Thomas? What are you doing?”

“Say your goodbyes—we are leaving.”

“What? Are you quite mad? I haven’t even had anything?—”

“We are leaving .” His tone was familiar and horrible. It was the tone he used when he wanted a situation to be dealt with.

There was not going to be any negotiation… and certainly no affection or passion, not even in that dress.

What was I thinking?

He had not changed his behavior towards her when she was wearing nothing at all. Why had she thought a Mandolini gown would make a lick of difference?