Behind the Courtesan(6)
Sophia turned toward the door. Her appetite had disappeared and she found herself longing once again for the confines of her room. “I am tired of this. Perhaps tomorrow we can start afresh but if not, I will stay in my room as you suggested.”
“Answer me one question before you go?”
She paused without wanting to at the anguish in his voice. Did he feel guilty about his behavior? “What is it?”
“Do you want to be a duchess?”
Her stomach gave a flip flop as she reached for the door handle. Is that why he called her duchess in such a derisive tone? He thought that’s who she aspired to be? This was yet another conversation she wasn’t ready to have. He clearly thought her a whore and a gold grabber looking to climb to one of the highest stations in the realm. Why should she make him think any differently?
Blake was no longer the boy she used to know, to love. He was now a hateful, spiteful man who was obviously going to make it his business to persecute and humiliate her. In his eyes she was a lowly courtesan, but she had worth. She would show him that she was more than a bed warmer to a duke and then he would have to apologize for his harsh treatment of her. For his assumptions that she would sell her soul for a title and servants.
She opened the door and took one step over the threshold, but paused for a moment to leave him with something to ponder. “I have never wanted anything less in my entire life.”
* * *
Blake continued to sit at the dining table, the plates where they were, and felt he’d been blindsided by a mule cart. Only he wasn’t the one who’d been led into a trap.
He’d needed a brilliant idea and had one too late. One he should have thought out a little better. Surely there were other ways to keep her safe from his patrons that didn’t require keeping her at his side all day every day? He didn’t believe her that if they continued to fight she would stay in her room. That would have made it too easy for him.
He grimaced. He was lying to himself if he thought it would be effortless to fight with her for the next few weeks, he wasn’t normally so difficult to get along with. There was just something about her attitude since she had arrived that irked him in the worst way. She may say she didn’t want to be a duchess, but already she had perfected the art of making him feel like a peasant.
Remorse began to dull the edges of his anger. He even considered going to her, to knock on her door and apologize, though his challenge did still serve a purpose. He would keep her at the inn so that Matthew wouldn’t have to choose between his wife and his sister. In the process, he’d keep her busy and out of his bar. He’d also try to keep a lid on his temper now that he’d gone ahead and taken the responsibility from everyone except for himself.
In his mind he began to better formulate the plan. She wouldn’t even be aware that he watched over her.
It sounded so simple. Why did it have to feel so complicated?
Chapter Three
Sophia had been sleeping the sleep of the dead when the banging started. First it was so soft she barely drifted to a level above unconsciousness. Then it got louder. And louder. And louder. Once she realized it was her door someone was trying to knock down, she leapt from her bed. Not bothering with a wrapper or shawl, she gripped the handle and threw the door wide.
“What?” she asked into the gloom. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“It’s time to wake up, Duchess.”
Sophia tried to comprehend just what had happened that would make Blake wake her in such a manner. He was dressed in a thick brown coat buttoned only halfway, a shirt the same color peeking from beneath. Navy breeches replaced yesterday’s trousers and were tucked into high boots, mud already marring the dark surface. As her sleepy gaze traveled back up to his face, he also wore that smug look that clearly came as second nature. Most other people smiled, she thought sourly.
“Get dressed, we’re already late.”
Puzzled, she answered, “Late for what?” But Blake was already gone. His long strides carried him along the corridor where he thumped down the stairs and into the lower parts of the tavern.
Sophia closed the door and peered into the darkness overlooking the rear yard. It was pitch black out. Why did he wake her? For a moment she’d worried that something had happened to Violet through the night.
But then those anxious feelings sank to the pit of her stomach with a weight she did not like. Why would Violet need her help with anything? It was clear her sister-in-law wasn’t enamored of her. She lit a candle and sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the cradle in the corner of the room. She should have left it in London with everything else she wouldn’t need for the rest of her life. It would have fit next to the chest holding her ball gowns and crystal slippers. Right beside the tiny gown her own child would have worn had it been born.
With a shuddering breath, she tore her gaze away. Today was not a day for tears. Today was a day for taking her mind off London and what-should-have-beens. Today she was going to show Blake Vale that she was a perfectly capable woman.
The memory of last night’s challenge almost sapped her will. Surely normal, everyday folk didn’t rise before the rooster had the chance to crow his crow? She knew farmers rolled from their beds at god-awful hours, but not tavern keepers. What could possibly need doing before the guests or patrons had even thought of breakfast or their first ale for the day?
Sophia contemplated the comfortable bed. She could settle beneath the warm blankets and go back to sleep, but Blake would expect her to do that. He would expect her to quake at the first hurdle, and to get up before the sun definitely counted as a hurdle. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction so she threw a blanket over the cradle and then opened her dresser and rifled through the gowns hanging in the cramped space. Eventually Sophia decided a riding habit would have to suffice. She didn’t have clothing suitable for mucking out stables. And she was sure that’s what Blake had in mind. He wouldn’t stop today until she begged for mercy. It wasn’t the first time her stubborn pride had gotten her into trouble.
The next knock at the door startled her so much her hands shook and the shoelace she tied snapped off in her fingers. “Damnation,” she swore beneath her breath. She didn’t have another pair of shoes she was willing to sacrifice in the name of idiocy and her riding boots had a heel on them that would leave her with a limp by the end of the first hour.
With a muttered curse she tucked what was left of the laces into the top of her shoe and stalked to the door. She took a second to school her features and when she opened it, gave Blake the brightest smile she could summon. “Good morning, Blake.”
“That’s not going to work with me this morning, Duchess.”
“What?” Feigned innocence was one of the best weapons she had at her disposal and she did it well.
“Your pretty smiles and feminine airs will not help you today, so stop looking at me like that.”
Was she supposed to grunt her morning greeting as he did? “I was merely being polite. Next time I will scowl.”
Blake opened his mouth to issue probably yet another insult but then obviously changed his mind.
“Come,” he said with a gentler tone. “We are already behind.”
Sophia hid her answering smile and hoped tomorrow morning’s awakening wouldn’t be quite so brutal since she hadn’t muttered one protest.
But after two steps through the back entrance of the tavern, she hoped tomorrow morning would never come. A thin layer of frost covered the ground, and as she bit her lip against the cold, her breath fogged. She considered running back to her room for a blanket to wrap about her shoulders.
Blake must have noticed her hesitation on the stoop, because he called to her over his shoulder, “You won’t be cold for long, Duchess. Now, keep up.”
“Do you think you might call me by my name today?” she asked his broad back as she lifted her hems to keep up as requested.
He stopped so suddenly, she nearly ran into him. “And what name would that be? Sophie? Sophia? Grand, adventurous Madam?”
“My name is Sophia. Not Duchess. Not Sophie and definitely not Madam.”
“Your name is not Sophia and we both know it. Just because you change a letter at the end does not make it so. And I like the ring of ‘Duchess.’”
“Very well.” Sophia shrugged as she lifted her arms to rest her hands on her hips. “I shall call you swine.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“As you should! You have done nothing but goad and insult me since I arrived. Your behavior is much what I would expect from a pig.”
As anger flared to life in his eyes, she knew she had said something critically wrong rather than simply rude.
“I have insulted you, but you turn up your pretty little nose at everyone and everything. Do you think if you had come to town with a friendly greeting and a smile, we might be in a different situation right now?”