Page 44 of His Enemy Duchess

Evidently, she couldn’t resist a jab.

Pietro hesitated for a moment. “Yes and no.”

“Yes and no?” Thomas’s curiosity was piqued. “You just said we were exceptional.”

“In the end, you were,” the instructor said cautiously. “Prior to that, less so. I would worry about you returning to the former when you dance next, as you may not have the time to… warm up. If you truly mean to convince the ton that you are in love, then you’ll need to convince yourselves first.”

Thomas and Sophia stood in silence for a while, exchanging momentary glances.

He could see the instructor’s point. The couple seemed to be stuck in a cycle of thawing and freezing, offered a glimpse of verdant spring at certain stirring moments before the winter of their hatred sent in a fresh blizzard.

We must thaw the ice between us so that it cannot freeze again.

An impossible task that would require a miracle. And Thomas was not a miracle worker.

“I think I’d like to rest for a while now,” Sophia said, her head bowed, no longer looking him in the eye.

“Of course.” Thomas cleared his throat. “Though you should not get accustomed to indulging in late mornings.”

She shot him a cold look. “Andyoushould not get accustomed to being so close to me.”

With that, she stalked away.

“Consider today’s lesson a success, Your Graces,” Pietro called after Sophia’s departing figure, his tone almost apologetic, as if he knew what his words had done—asking something of them that was simply not possible.

CHAPTER 16

“Her Grace, the Duchess of Heathcote,” Sophia heard ahead of her, past the terrace doors, and took a deep breath.

Time to be what they expect me to be.

Smoothing down the front of her emerald-green gown, imagining that invisible string that Pietro had talked about, she pulled her shoulders back, elongated her neck, fixed on a smile, and walked out into the garden.

Alone.

In the bronzed glow that signaled the change to true evening, at least a hundred pairs of eyes immediately turned towards her. Gasps and whispers accompanied the stares, mingling into one breeze of gossip.

It was the first time Sophia was being presented with her official title, and she had—as instructed—dressed for the occasion. The gown was the most extravagant thing she had ever worn—emerald silk that whispered across the ground, embellished with glittering beads and hemmed with golden lace, with long golden-hued gloves and a sash of green and gold beneath the bust. Around her neck was a simple green ribbon, and a single teardrop diamond rested in the hollow of her throat.

Harriet had tried to insist on an even more opulent gown, but this had been the compromise.

“You must tell her to oblige me!”the Dowager Duchess had railed at Thomas.

He had shrugged.“It is her choice.”

Sophia had appreciated that—though, of course, she had not said so.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, wondering if she should not have worn her hair in such a loose bun, she stared out at the crowd from the garden terrace, searching for a few faces in particular.

There you are…

She smiled at the sight of her parents and her brothers, most of them wearing smiles of their own. The only exception was Samuel. But that came as no surprise.

Just promise me you will behave yourself,she urged silently, hoping he would receive the message.

To make sure, she descended the terrace steps as gracefully as she could and walked through the crowd, occasionally bowing to a lady or a lord, until she finally reached her parents. Her mother dove in first, hugging her with unbridled joy… and perhaps a small amount of relief.

“Sophia! My darling, you look exquisite!” Lydia said tearfully.

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