Behind the Courtesan(32)

“Is that what you are doing? Are you going to stay in Blakiston?”

She shook her head and moved to the corner of the room where the cradle was still hidden under a blanket. She ran a finger along its crimson edge, but made no move to unveil it. “My brother is to have a baby. He asked me to be here for the birth, to be her godmother if I choose. After that, I haven’t yet decided.”

“A blessed event for your brother and his wife, to have you here.”

“Do you know my brother?”

“Of course I know him. I’ve been coming out here for more years than I care to recall.”

There was a thoughtful look on his face that made Sophie fearful she’d missed something. “Why do you come out here? Are you friends with Blakiston? Why are you here now?” She had a thousand questions and as each one bounced into her mind like a child’s toy, her anxiety grew.

“I would rather lick a chamber pot than be in the same room as the current Duke of Blakiston, but he has something I want.”

“What is it?” Her interest was piqued. Daemon only ever got that particular look of determination when he planned to win. Nothing would stop him now, whatever it was.

“It’s a long story and not mine to tell.” He stood and moved toward the connecting door leading to the room he would stay in for his brief visit. “I’ll see you at luncheon? Shall we dine in the private parlor?”

“There’s something else I haven’t told you.”

St. Ives stopped and turned back to face her. He wasn’t a man who looked capable of violence, but he also wasn’t a man to be crossed. She still was not ready to tell him everything that had transpired since her arrival, but there was one very important detail he would find out soon enough if she didn’t tell him first.

“We may have to dine a little late.”

“Why is that? Do you have an engagement? I can eat by myself.”

“The thing is... I have to make the meal.”

St. Ives stared at her for a full two minutes before he threw his head back and laughed like a man who’d lost his senses.

“Why do you laugh at me?”

“You’re having a joke. Why would you make the meal?”

“It’s a very long story. Let’s just say I fell into a trap made of my own stubborn pride.”

He began to laugh again. Not the reaction she expected.

“When I arrived, I asked to speak to the man in charge and the boy downstairs looked at me rather strangely. He asked if I wouldn’t rather speak to the woman in charge, since the man was injured and not able to run the inn. I thought he meant Blake’s wife. Are you telling me you’re the woman in charge?”

“Sort of. Blake was injured and I stepped in to help him, but it was my own fault and I forgot the kind of boy he was and... It’s another rather long story.” She babbled. She never babbled. Too many half truths were going to make it very hard to keep her stories straight.

“Does he know how stubborn you get?”

“He does now.”

St. Ives shook his head before turning back toward his own room. His chuckles carried back to her along with the words, “Poor Blake.”





Chapter Seventeen



Poor Blake was already at a loose end by the time St. Ives made it to his office. Had she told him? Should he brace for a fight or welcome an old friend and offer him a glass of something able to stand on its own two feet? He needed two glasses before he could summon the courage to open his office door. Things could not have gotten further out of hand.

What no one, not even Sophie or Matthew knew, was that Daemon and Blake were half brothers. It was the reason they hadn’t been in the same room for years for fear that someone would recognize the similarities between the both of them and the previous duke.

When Daemon had discovered who his real father was, he’d come to confront the man. Courageous for a twenty-one-year-old trying not to reveal his mother’s secrets. He’d also paid a visit to the tavern to meet his half brother. The sibling he hadn’t known about until their sire let the information slip. On purpose? They still weren’t sure. There was probably an ulterior motive for the revelation, but by then the old duke’s mind had cracked. Daemon had only sought Blake out so he could know if Blakiston lied or not. Though they had different color hair, the other resemblances were too strong to deny the truth.

Blake eyed Daemon warily, tried to gauge the other man’s mood as he watched him pick his way through the crowded taproom. The morning rain that had just started to fall was proving to be good for business, and lunch would see the place packed to the rafters as men sought refuge from the cold.

As Daemon came to stand in the doorway, Blake stepped back like the coward he was. He didn’t say a word. Just waited. Never had he felt more like a younger brother than in that moment.

Daemon looked him up and down from his boots to his head and back again, but Blake couldn’t detect any anger, no fury set to be loosed.

“They told me you’d been injured, but you look hale and hearty to me,” Daemon said with a half smile.

Blake released his breath on a relieved sigh. “As do you. Obviously inheriting a dukedom agrees with you.”

“I’m happy if that’s what you are asking.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” There was an awkward pause where Blake simply didn’t know what to say. They hadn’t seen each other in six years. Not even a letter had been exchanged in the three since the old duke’s death. What could he possibly have to say now to the man sleeping with the woman he loved?

“I met your cook earlier,” Daemon said with a chuckle as he settled into the chair opposite Blake’s desk, seemingly oblivious to the roiling tension in the room.

“My cook? I don’t have one.”

“Sophia said she has to cook the meal before she can sit down to eat it.”

Blake scowled. Of course she revealed that part of their story. “It was her fault. She is still as stubborn now as she was at ten years old.”

“You’ve known her a long time then?” Daemon asked. The question seemed an innocent one, but Blake knew better than to fall into that trap.

Daemon was a lot like a cobra. He lulled you, dazzled you and made you feel comfortable just before he moved in for the fatal bite you never saw coming.

“I’ve known Sophie since she was born.”

“Sophia?” Her betrayal had run so deep he hadn’t even told his brother about her. For most of the fourteen years she had been absent, he had refused to even say her name.

“Her name isn’t Sophia. It’s Sophie Martin.”

“I know that, but she prefers to be called Sophia.”

Not lately. “Yes, she does now.”

“How did it come about? That she is working in your kitchen?”

“You don’t want to hear about that,” Blake groaned.

“I do want to hear about it. The tale sounds humorous.”

It wasn’t. There was nothing funny about what had transpired. “She said that my work was easy and that she could do it without an ounce of effort.”

Daemon laughed. “She did not.”

“Aye, she did.”

“And you couldn’t let it stand? Let me guess, she stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes shooting fire and told you she was better than you?”

“She already told you about this, didn’t she?”

“No. But I know Sophia and she is not one to back down from a fight or a challenge. Therein lies your first mistake.”

“And not the last, let me tell you.”

The two men spent the next hour renewing their friendship and apprising the other of what they’d missed over the years. Each time Daemon mentioned Sophie, Blake would maneuver the conversation back to neutral ground. He truly liked Daemon and didn’t want to hear about his relationship with Sophie even if he was blissfully happy. Especially if he was blissfully happy.

“Tell me about Blakiston’s auction,” Blake said once all the other mundane conversations were out of the way.

“Since he inherited, he’s done everything possible to bankrupt the estate. The man wants to gamble with the finest, but can’t hold his liquor or his tongue. Five years of neglect and debt finally prompted the King to take an interest.”

“He’s been sniffing about Sophie in the past few days,” Blake told him.

“Damn,” Daemon swore. “I should have questioned her more about where she was going. Does he know about her connection to me?”

Blake nodded.

Daemon breathed deep. “Does he know about ours?”

Blake shook his head. “Even Sophie doesn’t know about that and I don’t want her to. You aren’t to tell her anything.”

“I won’t. Yet.”