Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

“ I hope you have a good excuse for all of this, husband, ” Sophia muttered coarsely as Thomas dragged her deeper into the manor house, away from the noise and cheer of the garden party. He couldn’t bear the sound of so much laughter.

“Not here,” he growled.

“You’re hurting me,” she rasped as he dragged her down the nearest hallway, having no notion of where they were going.

He loosened his grip on her arm just a little, almost subconsciously.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked a moment later.

“Here.” He pulled her into the closest room with an open door.

It turned out to be an empty dining room, the staff too busy catering to the throng of guests outside in the garden. It was silent, and it was cold despite the balmy evening. The chairs and the table were eerie in the gloom, resembling squat figures—a jury ready to pass judgment on whatever Thomas said next.

Thomas brought her around and placed her in front of him. He couldn’t not look at her anymore, his heart racing with the urge to kiss her and hope that was remedy enough for what he had done.

“You are drunk,” he said instead.

“Drunk? I barely finished my one glass of punch,” she scoffed. “Indeed, you are the one behaving like an inebriate brute, dragging me away like that.”

“You are slurring your words,” he insisted.

“Because it is cold in here and I am afraid of you!” she shot back, making him recoil.

But before he could ask what she meant by that, and why on earth she was scared of him, she made another sharp remark. “Not to mention that I am starving and was on my way to eat when you rudely apprehended me. I am always shaky when I haven’t eaten.”

“Oh, of course, you couldn’t find time to eat,” he grumbled, turning his back on her.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”

“Oh, do I? Please, enlighten me anyway.” Her voice dripped with annoyance, and though he wasn’t looking at her, he could imagine the scowl she was leveling at the back of his head.

“Your behavior was unacceptable, Sophia,” he replied as evenly as he could, with his body on fire and his heart aching for her. “We are married, are we not? It reflects on me too if you behave badly, and?—”

“You are the only one exhibiting bad behavior, Thomas. I have known stable boys with more decorum,” exploded Sophia, catching him off guard, and for the first time in probably forever shutting him up.

Stable boys? I don’t doubt that.

He folded his arms across his chest.

“You always deflect!” she continued. “You skirt around what you want to say without saying much at all. I know you want to tell me off, so just do it! I have grown tired of your pretending, and I know you have grown tired of pretending too. You made that perfectly clear when you—well, you know when.”

A bubble of silence fell over them as Thomas stared at her, remembering the feeling of peace as he held her in his arms, listening to her soft breaths as she slept, reminiscing about the passion she had unleashed in him—the beast within that wasn’t violent or needed caging, but was perhaps his truest self. The part of him that could love her if he was just courageous enough.

Sophia brushed her hair from her face. “Out with it! What did I do that was so wrong?”

“You were laughing.”

“Is laughing a crime? Is it?—”

He raised a hand, interrupting her. “You were laughing with Robert.”

“You left me with him! I was being polite, engaging with your best friend.” She clenched her jaw, exasperation etched across her beautiful face. “What else was I supposed to do? Kick him in the shins and tell him to shove off?”

It’s ridiculous. I know it is, but…

“What were you laughing at?” he asked.

She chuckled tightly. “If I tell you, you are just going to mock me.”

Thomas laughed at the notion, but it was a weak laugh. “That’s preposterous.”

“Oh, is it? I thought you were not the type to enjoy jokes. The almighty Duke, too serious for the rest of us,” she answered, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Thomas stayed silent for a moment. After weeks of scolding her, she finally returned the favor, saying exactly what she wanted without hesitation. But there was a glimmer of something like guilt in her eyes, somewhat stung by the insult.

“Tell me anyway,” he insisted.

“We were exchanging jokes. Silly, puerile jokes. Puns and the like. You know, the ones you so loathe,” she explained, and Thomas felt her reading his expression. His mask of stone had shattered the night they lay together, and though he had tried to fix it in the interim, she had just cracked it a second time.

“This is pointless…” she mumbled, throwing her hands up.

“Why is it? I am listening. I am waiting with anticipation for these ‘wonderful’ jokes,” he replied, trying to look her in the eyes and ignore that solitary curl of hair between them.

She had tried—and failed—to fix her hair multiple times.

She shook her head. “Even if it was the greatest joke in the world, it wouldn’t be more hilarious than the two of us pretending that this will work. I am not sorry for the favor I asked, but I am sorry I didn’t ask what other beds you have lain in beforehand.”

“Pardon?” Thomas’s face was immediately taken over by confusion.

“I heard you and William,” she replied tersely. “Taking about Lady Elspeth. Is that how you were able to lie with me? Did you think of her in order to endure it? Did you feel so guilty towards your lover afterward that you were compelled to leave that note?”

“Sophia, what are you talking about?”

Thomas was horrified, crushed by the idea that she could believe that was true. He had given all of himself to her , to his wife—no one else.

She sniffed, turning her gaze away. “We should have discussed the prospect of lovers before we married. It’s something a wife should know, and, in my opinion, a privilege that a wife should also be granted.”

“You want to take a lover?”

Thomas felt sick and enraged all at once, his mind brimming with visions of her tangled up in the arms of a carousel of gentlemen, calling out names that were not his in the throes of passion.

“Of course not,” she spat, whirling back around, “but I ought to be granted that privilege if you also have it.”

He closed the gap between them, seizing hold of her hands, panting hard with frustration and dismay. “There is no lover, Sophia. You have been my only. I would swear to every God I know, current and ancient, even if it leads me to blasphemy, that I have no affection for Lady Elspeth or any other woman.” His voice hitched. “Samuel said it to drive a wedge between us, and you have let him.”

“So, you don’t have a mistress?” she asked in earnest, peering up at him with wary eyes.

“No! I’d cut out my tongue before I besmirched my family name like that.” His eyes fell on that strand of hair again, his fingertips itching to touch it.

“Well, don’t do anything so rash as that,” she said coyly, biting her lip. “That would be a true tragedy.”

Chuckling in the back of his throat at her saucy remark, Thomas raised a hand and swept the curl of her hair into the rest of her wavy locks. He could hear that her breathing had become shallow, her cautious eyes shining in the faint moonlight that filtered through the hatched windows.

“If you don’t have a mistress, then why have you been avoiding me?” she murmured.

Thomas felt the pain in her voice. He had hurt her. She had given herself to him as much as he had given himself to her, and he had… shunned it like it was a tainted gift. Though, in truth, it had been the most magical moment of his life.

He gathered his words, the slight amount of punch in his blood finally giving him the bravery he needed. His defenses, after a week of staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, had completely crumbled.

“Because it hurts, Sophia. Because I know I shouldn’t feel what I feel for you, but I can’t help myself, and it’s like having a horde of ancestors on my back, berating me, turning something wonderful into something… guilt-ridden.”

Thomas wanted his words to come out mean and with vitriol, but instead, they were coming out with a soft and sweet cadence. He couldn’t stop himself. He was a dam that had broken.

“Because I see your face when I close my eyes. Because I spent the week worried sick about you, and I had to tell myself every waking hour to not care. And I failed. I cared. I cared so much, and I can’t do that. I am not supposed to. I hate that I care, and I hate…”

He wanted to say “you,” but he shook his head.

No more lying.

Sophia was staring at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

He continued. “I should hate you for being independent and not caring about the rules, but I don’t. I should not care whether you laugh at someone else’s jokes, but I do, and it splinters me asunder. You make me soft… when I shouldn’t be.” He raised a hand and held her face. He felt her hand reaching up and cupping his cheek in response. “I hate that I can’t hate you.”

Thomas kissed her with all the fire that had been building during the week of her absence, and she met his kiss in kind, pulling him to her, pressing herself against him.

This wasn’t a favor gone wrong; this was the real thing. Two creatures of pure, red-blooded passion finally breaking the bonds that had been holding them back.

Never again will I listen to any heart but my own.

“Wait… wait, wait, wait,” she gasped, pulling back. “We can’t do this.”

He frowned, hiding his disappointment. “I can lock the door if you are worried someone might come in.”

“No, it is not that,” she urged, a strange excitement crossing her face. “If we are ever to be happy, if we are ever to… find our way to each other, then there is something we must do. Something I must do.”

“What must we do?” Thomas raised an eyebrow, bewildered by the sudden change in her demeanor.

She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him once more. “I will tell you tomorrow. I have to take the carriage somewhere now—but don’t worry, I’ll be perfectly well, and I will return to you tomorrow, so don’t you dare have another sleepless night because of me.”

“Sophia, I can’t let you go somewhere alone,” Thomas insisted.

She flashed him a grin. “When have I ever let you stop me?” She gave his hand a tight squeeze. “Trust me, Thomas. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, she darted away, leaving him in a curious state of confused frustration. He had all but confessed, and now she was running away from him again, making him wonder if this was how she had felt when she found that wretched note.

“I trust you,” he whispered.

He had no choice