The Rogue Not Taken (Scandal & Scoundrel #1)(77)

She ignored the last. “The herbs and honey are working well.”

“Did you bathe?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Not that it is your business, but yes.”

“It’s my business.”

“Because if I die you’ll be out your revenge?”

He narrowed his gaze on her. “I don’t care for your smart mouth.”

Another smile. “And here I was working so very hard to make you care.” She approached. “Have you told him that you’ve returned with a Dangerous Daughter on your arm?”

He looked over his shoulder into the hallway and stepped inside the room, quickly closing the door. “I haven’t,” he said quietly, “But he’ll know soon enough.”

“Do I look enough the part for you?” she asked, knowing she looked as much of a Dangerous Daughter as she could without her sisters’ belongings nearby.

“You look fine.”

She made a show of furrowing her brow. “Are you sure? Women like me, we don’t know much about dining with dukes. What with our background.”

He cursed beneath his breath. “Stop that.”

She blinked. “Stop what?”

“Stop condescending to me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You would, and you are. You no more think of yourself as less than me than you think you can sprout wings and fly. You know you’re better than all of us.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it, stunned by the unexpected words. Who was this man who so easily insulted her, and at the same time seemed to do the opposite?

“You deserve better than us, as well,” he grumbled.

“That, at least, is true.” If only she could convince herself of it. “I have been considering our agreement,” she continued, turning for the looking glass, making a show of pinching her cheeks as she’d watched Sesily do in preparation for her suitors. Men like to feel as though you’ve been dreaming of them, her sister liked to say by way of explanation.

Ironic, that, as Sophie would do anything to keep King from knowing how she dreamed of him.

He watched her from the door, his gaze on her in the mirror. She made a show of straightening her neckline, drawing attention to her ample breasts, already near bursting from the gown. He’d asked for a Soiled S. And here she was.

“Don’t tell me you’re reneging,” he said.

“I wouldn’t dare,” she said. “A Talbot keeps her word. But it occurs that what with my father’s funds, I don’t require your money so much as something else.”

His brow furrowed so quickly that she might not have seen it if she weren’t so thoroughly focused on him. “And what is that?”

She bit her lips once, twice, hard enough for them to go red and slightly swollen. Yes. Sesily would be very proud. “I want you to ruin me.”

“What in hell does that mean?”

“You’re such an expert, my lord, I can’t imagine you don’t already know.”

He came toward her, his voice suddenly lower, darker. “How, precisely, do you wish me to ruin you?”

“How do you ruin all the others?” She waved a hand when his eyes widened. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve spent the better part of a week together without a chaperone, and last night—”

“Don’t,” he said.

She looked to him. Finally looked, for the first time since Mossband. Something in his gaze made her not want to finish her thought about the night before. Made her want to believe it had meant something to him. As it had to her. “Well, the point is, I would appreciate it if you would render me fully unmarriageable. Then I will be able to find myself a new life. I shall get my bookshop somewhere quiet, and live a life. Free.”

“Free of what?” he asked.

“Of all of it,” she said, unable to keep the truth from her tone. “Of the gossip. The aristocracy. Of all the things I loathe.”

“Of me.”

No.

She forced a smile. “You know better than anyone how we truly feel about each other.”

He was silent for a long moment, and Sophie found herself wondering what he was thinking.

We don’t even like each other, she wanted to remind him.

To remind herself.

He broke the silence and did the reminding himself. “Done. I’ll see you publicly ruined if that’s what you want.”

“It is. I want the freedom that comes with it.”

He nodded. “Play this game well, Lady Sophie, and we’ll be rid of each other before you even realize we were together.”

Except she had realized it. She’d realized it the day prior, when they’d raced from the Warbling Wren, and the night prior, when he’d kissed her until she thought she’d go mad from the pleasure. And this morning, when he’d hurt her so thoroughly, and without thought.

They were together, and somehow, she adored and loathed it all at the same time.

She shook out her skirts. “Is it time for supper?”

His gaze flickered to the deep blue fabric, bordering on purple. “That color is beautiful on you.”

She willed herself not to blush under his compliment. Failed. She looked away. “They call it royal blue.”