Page 59 of His Enemy Duchess

Is that true?

Sophia willed Thomas to look at her, but he wouldn’t.

“An exaggeration,” he said in curt dismissal. “She was a friend to the family, not to me specifically. I was no closer to her than any other member present.”

Sophia relaxed, rubbing the heel of her palm against her chest to rid herself of the uneasy feeling there. A feeling she would never have expected to attack her out of nowhere, especially not when Thomas was concerned—jealousy.

Samuel opened his mouth as if he had more to say on the matter, and more poking of the bear to do, but the butler walked into the drawing room and cleared his throat, demanding everyone’s attention.

“Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Heathcote,” he said.

What? But she is already here…

Sophia frowned as Thomas immediately strode out into the hallway.

He returned with an elderly woman on his arm, bearing the weight of several dozen decades on her back. Most surprising of all, he was smiling, escorting her with the utmost care and affection.

Harriet, however, wasnotsmiling. She sat rigid in her chair, her eyes wide as if she had seen a ghost, her lips pursed as if she had imbibed one of Pietro’s special brews.

“Was it a pleasant journey, Grandmother? Thank you for coming and braving the country roads,” Thomas said.

Sophia noticed something in his voice.

When he thanked his grandmother, it wasn’t with the fake cadence of someone performing a formality for appearances’ sake. No, this was genuine. There was real concern and warmth in his voice when he talked to her.

“Oh, thankyoufor inviting me, my darling boy. I don’t have a lot of excuses to leave the house lately.” The old woman had a raspy, pleasant laugh that seemed to widen Thomas’s smile.

He escorted her slowly to the settee and helped her down, fussing over her like a mother hen. Sophia had never seen him treat someone like this, even though he treated everyone with respect and spoke with reverence, always following the rules and etiquette to a tee.

But here, with his grandmother, he was different. He treated her with warmth. With tenderness. One would even say…

With love.

The man incapable of emotion, of feeling, apparently had one exception.

CHAPTER 21

Sophia walked over to the windowsill and opened one of the windows to ventilate the room when she heard a croaky voice call from a few meters behind her.

“You! Yes, you, dear. Come over.” It was Rosamund, Thomas’s grandmother, gesturing for her to come closer.

Sophia obliged and did as such.

“What can I help you with?”

She felt the old lady reach out and softly pull her close, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“This is a bit embarrassing, dear, but I need some help,” Rosamund said as her gaze wandered around the room. “One of the ladies here is my grandson’s new wife… Do you know which one it is? I can’t tell them apart—my eyes don’t see as well as they used to. Is it the woman with the tall hat?” She pointed to Lydiaand her monstrous headpiece. “The hunched one over there, perhaps?” She waved towards Gregory’s daughter. “I’d like to talk to her, but I want to avoid talking to my daughter-in-law…” she explained.

Sophia felt her face flush, not knowing what to do.

“Oh my, this is embarrassing, indeed.” She cleared her throat. “Your Grace, I am your grandson’s wife.”

Rosamund turned and looked at her in shock and gasped loudly.

“Oh, mercy me, I am so very sorry,” she said, and her old body erupted in that raspy, contagious laugh.

Sophia wasn’t impervious, laughing along so hard that she had to cover her mouth.

---