Behind the Courtesan(3)

She had thought time in the country, away from the pressures demanded of her particular type of lifestyle, would help to return some form of balance even though the prospect terrified her. She should have followed her initial instincts and traveled to the coast or Bath, somewhere she didn’t have a history, somewhere a stranger with a made-up past could find her place.

Her former protector had offered her a little house in Dover, a place to rest and recuperate, but buried deep in sorrow, she had turned him down. She did not need charity. She yearned for safety, comfort and, most of all, security. The only option she had was to return to her first home, to the family and village she had fled.

Her turbulent thoughts drifted back to Blake. She had known their first meeting wasn’t going to go well, but she hadn’t envisioned it would go as badly as it had. Once upon a time they had been the best of friends, more. If only he knew the truth about why she had run away in the first place, he might have understood her anxiety. But she’d promised herself not to tell a soul. Not her brother and certainly not Blake. She could not handle the revulsion she knew would surge before any sympathetic emotion.

Where was he anyway? He hadn’t even offered refreshments. Perhaps he would ride out to her brother and deliver the message himself just to be rid of her all the quicker.

She smoothed her skirts, giving them a shake which loosened dirt all over the floor before the fire. A small smile of satisfaction lifted her lips.

Before she could have any more thoughts of how much dirt she could be rid of by jumping up and down, the door flew open, slamming against the wall behind it with a bang.

“Sophia?”

The tall man staring at her through eyes the color of her own didn’t wait for an answer to his question. He rushed forward and drew her into his arms as though fourteen years was only a number and not half a lifetime.

“Matthew, it’s so good to see you.” She tried to disguise the involuntary flinch that came whenever she was touched, but soon hugged him back.

“I can’t believe you came,” he said quietly, his voice muffled by her hair.

Was that relief or hesitation she heard? She pulled back, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“I’ve missed you,” he said when finally he released her.

She turned away from her brother. Deep emotion was not something Sophia could handle in that moment so when Blake entered the room, she was almost relieved.

Looking back to Matthew, she asked, “Is Violet with you?”

Now it was Matthew’s turn to look away. “I left her at the house. She is not feeling well today.”

Blake stepped farther into the room with what looked like panic written on his face. “She was well enough this morning. Should she be alone?”

Matthew glared at him before he turned back to Sophia, who watched the exchange with growing apprehension, although she tried to hide it. “She is not so happy that I am here, is she?”

“It’s not that. We hadn’t heard from you and the only spare room we have has been turned into the baby’s room. Violet, that is, we, thought you might be more comfortable here.”

The only sound to penetrate the sudden tension was the crackle of the fire. It was Blake who recovered first.

“What?” he said. “She can’t stay here.”

Matthew glared at him again. “This is an inn, is it not?”

Sophia shook her head and interrupted the argument. “I think it would be best for Violet if I return to London.” She gathered her skirts in her hands and turned toward the door. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“But I want you to stay,” Matthew said, blocking the doorway.

Just not in your house. That much was abundantly clear. So she couldn’t stay but neither could she go. Her back ached from the jarring carriage ride she had already endured and she was tired beyond reason. Then there was the fact that she didn’t have a house to return to in London. Her previous residence had belonged to the Duke of St. Ives, and they had since parted ways.

She looked to Blake to gauge his reaction. He hadn’t said a word, but the set of his mouth and his crossed arms said he didn’t like the situation any more than she did.

“There must be somewhere else I can stay? A hotel or boarding house?” She didn’t mean for it to sound as though the inn was beneath her, but the thought of the laughing men in the tap and Blake’s hostility was enough to almost make her ask if she could sleep in Matthew’s barn.

“Not for miles,” Matthew shook his head and looked to Blake. “Can you make up a room?”

“If she says please.”

Sophia gritted her teeth until her head pounded. Seems there was little choice for any of them. She released her breath and forced a smile. “Please?”

“There.” Matthew grinned. “I knew we could work it out.”

* * *

As the afternoon waned, Sophia bathed and dressed in a wrinkled but clean gown and still she fumed.

She ran a silver-backed brush through her hair again and again in front of the banked fire, as her stomach growled. Refreshments hadn’t been offered and Blake hadn’t come to apologize. It was the latter that had her on her feet in front of the looking glass, pinning the hair from her face with quick, angry movements.

If he thought she was going to hide away and be ignored until her sister-in-law had her baby, then Blake had better think again.

Sliding the last pin into place to secure one errant black curl, Sophia drew a deep breath against her worries of pitchforks and cruel laughter and opened the door. She expected to do battle in the hall, yet there was not a soul around. Her steps were slow but sure as she made her way down the stairs and into the taproom.

With an hour until supper, the tap was relatively empty, the laughing group from earlier nowhere to be seen. Heads lifted, bored faces stared for a moment, curiosity quickly replacing tedium. She met their gazes one by one with what she hoped looked like confidence, inclined her head and started for a table in the farthest, darkest corner of the room. A cold shiver worked its way down her spine, but she ignored it. Even in her own mind she wouldn’t admit fear and dread made her feel more vulnerable than she had in years.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” Dominic, the young man who had earlier filled her bath, told her from the bar.

She’d wondered how long it would take for him to notice her presence. “I’m thirsty and hungry, where else would I go?”

“Blake won’t like it,” he said with a nervous glance in the direction of the other occupants.

Aware of their audience, she bit her tongue against anger and smiled sweetly. “If he’d offered sustenance in my room, I would have accepted.”

“I’ll bring a tray up. Please, you can’t be down here.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes. “And why not?”

“It’s not for ladies, miss.”

“Then we shall count ourselves lucky that I’m no lady.”

Dominic stared at her for a full minute as he fidgeted with a linen towel before rounding the bar toward her.

“I’ll buy her a drink, lad.” One of the men finally spoke up before Dominic could form a suitable reply to her insult of herself.

Sophia swiveled in her seat to face him and worked hard to school her features to calm politeness. “No, thank you, good sir, I’ll get my own.”

“His coin not good enough fer ya?” Another joined in the conversation as he rose to his muddy feet.

Dominic groaned.

“Thank you, but I pay my own way.”

“Was just bein’ nice, lass,” the third man grumbled.

“And I thank you,” she nodded in their individual directions. “But since I am now a guest here, I believe my food is already paid for.”

With nods of agreement from the men and only one slight brow rise from Dominic, she went ahead and ordered. “I’ll have watered ale and whatever food you have, and then I’ll leave.”

“Ale?”

Sophia rather liked the taste. “Yes please.”

“We only have cold stew from lunch and dinner won’t be quite ready. I’ll bring a tray up when it is.”

“Stew will be fine, Dominic, thank you.”

Cold stew was a better alternative to starving. She hoped. No sooner had she thought the thought then Blake appeared, a thunderous expression on his face. Perhaps he read her mind about his stew. She smiled again.

“You can’t be down here.”

“I have already been informed of that fact, but I am hungry and wish to eat.”

“Dominic can serve you in the private parlor.”

Sophia shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll eat right here.” In London she was never obtuse; she didn’t have to be. She was also not usually sarcastic, but Blake was beginning to make her feel it wasn’t the taproom that was at fault so much as her presence in it. “Unless there’s something wrong with the food?”