Page 10 of His Enemy Duchess

“Or what, you whelp of a duke?” Charles barked. “I will not tolerate threats and insults in my own house!”

Thomas quirked an eyebrow. “But I must? I doubt you can even hear how ridiculous you sound through your own hypocrisy.”

Oh goodness, no.

This was getting out of hand. For her father to explode so passionately and even her mother to cry out meant they were all inside a powder keg, the fuse fizzing closer and closer to detonation. Sophia looked at Frederick, who was smiling wide, his teeth showing.

He wanted this. He wanted this to happen.

The atmosphere was a cacophony soon enough. There was no more potential for civilized discussion with shouts, screams, and insults flying everywhere. Her eyes even caught James, who was trying to get involved and calm down their parents, but it was to no avail.

This isn’t going to end well.

Her mind raced to find a way, any way, to stop this.

“ENOUGH!” Thomas boomed, immediately demanding attention and dispersing the discord.

Sophia didn’t want to admit that she was slightly impressed—his authority was quite something to behold.

He straightened his tailcoat before continuing. “This doesn’t befit either of us. It’s beneath us—allof us. We need to solve this like gentlemen, not curs scrapping over a bone.”

“Thenweshould not have let the mongrels in,” Charles retorted, his blood still up, showing in the bright purple of his cheeks and the haughty expression on his face. “Your marriage proposal is not fit to wipe my horse’s hooves.”

Thomas laughed tightly, striding across the drawing room as if he meant to come to blows with Charles.

Sophia’s father lost his nerve, cowering and spluttering as Thomas came close… But the Duke passed him by, walking right up to the table where Sophia sat as if they were at a ball and he was about to introduce himself.

His fierce gray eyes, no longer devoid of emotion, stared down at her. Anger burned like stars in the black of his pupils.

“Your Grace,” Lydia began to say, but he put up his hand to shush her, masterful in his command of the room.

No one moved. Not even Frederick.

Thomas grasped Sophia’s hand and bowed at the waist to press his lips to it. She had forgotten to put her gloves back on after luncheon, realizing only as his warm lips grazed her bare skin. Her breath hitched in shock, sounding a lot like a gasp.

A… savage. Uncivilized, presumptuous, outlandish savage.

Her stomach fluttered as if the luncheon had not agreed with her—or at least that was what she told herself.

He lifted his gaze slightly, his lips still pressed to her skin. A strange emotion crossed his face, but she could not decipher it. It looked a lot like disgust or pain or confusion, but none of those words seemed to fit.

“I will not make you suffer the indignity of seeing me put a hole in your father’s chest today. Or your uncle’s,” Thomas said in a rumbling growl. “But nor will I seek peace again when it has been so unceremoniously thrown back in my face. I am sorry for the losses to come, for you and me.”

He gave her hand the lightest squeeze and let it go so unexpectedly that she almost sent the teacups on the table flying.

“I would have heard your voice on the matter,” he added, “but your family seems to be too fond of their own.”

With that, he fetched his mother and brother, ushering them out of the room ahead of him. They did not wait to be escorted out; their departure was quickly followed by the thud of the front door closing.

“You ought to wash that hand in lye, Sister,” Samuel said with a scowl.

Frederick grunted in agreement, storming out of the drawing room. For a second, Sophia feared he was going to chase Thomas down, but the heavy thumps on the staircase suggested otherwise.

At that moment, Charles finally seemed to remember that his daughter was in the room. “Well, I am sure you will be glad ofthat.”

Sophia could not reply. She was not glad at all, her heart sore with the knowledge that the feud would only get worse. The duel had nudged the hornet’s nest, but her father and uncle had just kicked it savagely. And as she looked from Samuel’s hand to James’s pale face, hearing Thomas’s parting words in her head, she knew what she had to do.

You will not listen to me, but you will not be able to ignore this.

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