Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

S ophia sat at the breakfast table, pushing cold eggs around her plate, her stomach already too full with the secret she was carrying. She had not slept, replaying the events at Thomas’s doorstep in her mind again and again—not just what the future held, but the outlandish bite that, more outlandishly, had left her breathless and all aflutter.

And I thought his kissing my bare hand was roguish enough.

A rush of heat began to climb up from her chest as she remembered the tickling graze of his lips, just before the bite.

“Another fashion that is popular in Paris?” James’s voice drew her attention away from her eggs… and the bewildering memory of Thomas so close to her, biting her as if he were a vampire and she his virgin sacrifice.

Sophia cleared her dry throat. “Pardon?”

“That thing around your neck.” James chuckled, pointing his fork at the white silk neckerchief that she wore to hide the small bruise that Thomas had left behind, and prayed would not draw any attention.

Curse you, James.

She should have known her brother would notice immediately.

“Don’t tell me that you have leaped aboard this fascination with vampyres. ” He flashed his teeth and made his fingers into claws. “That wretch Lord Byron is to blame. I do hope you have not read such a thing.”

There had been a short work of fiction published in the New Monthly Magazine just a few weeks ago that had sent all of Society—primarily, the ladies—into a hysteria. Apparently written by Lord Byron himself, no one could get enough of the mysterious protagonist, Lord Ruthven, and his thirst for the blood of beautiful, innocent women.

“I thought it was awful,” Sophia muttered, for though she had read it, she could not understand the feminine fascination with a man who literally preyed on unsuspecting women. “The scarf is to keep my neck warm. I caught a chill this morning.”

James frowned. “Are you well? Can I pour you some tea?”

“Actually, I have something I wish to say.” She stood up sharply, everyone’s attention now firmly on her.

Her mother and father sat in their usual spots at the far end of the breakfast table, with Samuel at the other end alongside Frederick, while James and Sophia sat opposite each other in the center. If she was going to muster the nerve to make her announcement, it had to be now, before everyone dispersed for the day.

The entire world spun around her as the weight of her family’s legacy and their lives lay heavy on her shoulders, forcing her eyes closed.

“I visited His Grace last night. To unite our families and end the feud, I said I would marry him, and he agreed. All you need to do is accept this decision and announce it,” she said in a rush, her heart almost beating out of her chest.

The room froze. She felt it. If she could have opened her eyes, she would have seen everyone’s mouths hanging open at her statement. She would have also seen James looking at her with a smile of admiration and pride.

The first one to break the silence was her mother, and she did not sound happy.

“What is this? You visited a gentleman alone, at night, without a chaperone? What were you thinking?”

“A Pratt, at that,” Samuel added sourly.

Sophia gulped. “I was thinking that I did not want Papa to end up in a duel, nor anyone else. I was thinking that this is what you asked of me. This is what you had all already agreed to until the unpleasantness of yesterday, and it should be followed through because it is the only way to end this… this foolishness!”

“I had not agreed,” Frederick muttered, swirling a spoon violently in his teacup.

Samuel, ever ready to follow his uncle’s lead, scoffed. “Neither did I. I’d duel them all before I let you marry one of those beasts.”

“Then might I entreat the more reasonable end of the table?” Sophia opened her eyes, taking in the shocked faces of her parents for the first time.

Her mother had turned as red as the dyed ostrich feather shoved into her hair, her cutlery trembling in her hands, while her father sat there in stony silence, barely lowering his morning newspaper.

“I do not like this any more than anyone else,” she continued, her voice wavering. “James will tell you himself—I tried to run from this, but if I can get down from the saddle and screw my courage to the sticking place to stop one more Kendall from dying before their time, then you ought to be able to do the same.”

Her fingertips touched her neck unconsciously, pressing on the small bruise. A tiny pulse of pain throbbed.

“Run?” Lydia blurted out. “What do you mean, run? What else have you not been telling us, Sophia?”

James pulled a face. “I think there are bigger things to concentrate on, Mother.”

“This marriage has to succeed, whether we like it or not,” Sophia continued at a clip. “I want nothing to do with the Duke—a cold, strange, rude man with no manners whatsoever and a sense of self-importance so grand that it is astonishing that he is able to fit in any room—but I will do my duty. I will be content with this match, so you all better do the same.”

And I will pretend to be happy, for all your sakes.

Her stomach clenched at the realization of what she was doing.

The events of the previous day had given her an escape from the marriage she did not want. It had been right there for the taking, all expectation and duty shuffled off her shoulders, but if it was a choice between happy spinsterhood and having to bury her brothers and father, then there was no choice at all.

Still, that did not mean it sat well with her, understanding that she would become the wife of a madman who bit women on the neck. The way in which her body had responded to that nip was merely circumstantial—an effect of the shock, nothing more. She would keep telling herself that for as long as she had to, certain that when she saw Thomas again, she would know it was the truth.

Her father finally lowered his paper. “I am still a keen shot. I could duel him if I had to.”

“That is the last thing I want,” Sophia replied.

“And you would do this? You are sure?” Her father’s voice softened.

She nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

Samuel got to his feet. “No. This is madness. You know this will end badly, and if no one else is going to speak up, then I shall!”

“Sam… you have no ground to stand on about things ending badly, not after what you did,” James said with quiet authority, remaining in his seat.

“What do you mean what I did? Lord William was the one who challenged me to a duel. And I won!”

James took a casual bite of his toast, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “You started it, Sam. I spoke with Jean-Baptiste. You tricked Lord William into the duel by using a stick of butter to lubricate the bottleneck of his favorite whiskey. When he grabbed it, it immediately slipped and smashed on the floor. William somehow knew it was you and wanted to restore his honor, probably. Or he had just had enough of you.”

Astonishment widened Sophia’s eyes, while frustration curled her hands into fists. Of all the idiotic things to do, of course Samuel would go looking for trouble, disturbing what had been a fragile but standing peace with a stick of bloody butter.

She could not help feeling irked, realizing that he was to blame for the predicament they were now in.

Though I suppose something else would have happened, sooner or later.

“Well, so what?! ” Samuel shot back. “So what, I say? He deserved it!”

“Samuel!” Lydia scolded in a motherly tone.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t agree with me. We all know what they are capable of.” Samuel began to pace, agitated. “They are prudes, sticklers, and bullies! You know how many times they have forced people into doing business with them? I’d hate them even if they didn’t have a bone to pick with us.” He halted, leaning on the back of his chair. “Do you even remember how the feud started? Or am I the only one left with pride in this household?”

He rushed to the other side of the breakfast room. On the wall was a big, imposing portrait of a man with mutton chops and an impressive mane of gray hair. He pointed right up at it.

“Behold Edmund Kendall! The last of the Kendalls to make the lethal mistake of befriending the Pratts. And look what happened to him! We put him up on a wall to remember his mistake.”

“No, Brother. We put him up on a wall because he built this mansion, but you know, who really cares about the true details,” James interjected.

“ I do. Clearly, only I still remember. How our great-great-grandfather?—”

“Great-great-great-grandfather,” corrected Sophia, almost bored with the conversation. She did not need to be distracted by a history lesson; she needed her father to accept, so she could rest easy. “Is there a point to this drivel, Brother? We all know the story.”

“A point?!” Samuel’s eyes bulged. “I am trying to save you! I am on your side, Sophia. I thought you didn’t want this marriage either?”

“I don’t! But you know what I don’t want more ? For you to die in the next stupid duel you pick with a Pratt because you wanted to avenge Great-great-great-grandfather what’s-his-name. He’s been dead for eighty years!”

“And does that mean we forget where we come from? If you were to die in horrible circumstances, would you want us to forget about you and just take it?”

“I don’t know! I’d be dead, you fool!” she snapped and heard a chuckle from across the table. “What are you laughing at, James?”

“Nothing, Sister. At any rate, Sophia is right. An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind.” James smiled, though it did not quite reach his sad eyes. “She is making the right, wise choice. You’d do well to learn from her, Sam. Not every problem can be solved with a blade and a bullet.”

The room fell silent again. James had the ability to put a civilized end to heated conversations that was rare for his age, one he had carried since childhood. He hadn’t even been trained for it. She remembered him settling disputes even at the tender age of eight. Sophia was certain that when it was his turn to manage the marquisate, he’d honor the family’s legacy well.

And he will reach that moment; I can ensure it, here and now, to the best of my ability.

“This is my choice, Papa,” Sophia reiterated, just as surprised as everyone else to discover that she meant it.

“Then… I suppose it is settled,” her father said, frowning. “The houses of Pratt and Kendall will unite. I shall… write to him today to make the arrangements.”

Sophia expelled a shaky breath. “Thank you.” She hesitated. “If you will excuse me, I think I must lie down.”

She hurried out of the breakfast room clutching her stomach as the prospect of her poisoned future took its toll.

Her father had accepted, a crisis had been averted, but she still had to go through with it. That would be the hard part, and she sensed she would spend a few more moments running for the basin in her room before she found relief.