Page 61 of His Enemy Duchess

“Don’t youdarefinish that sentence,” Thomas said abruptly. “Life and duty might be a joke to you, but not to me. I am a married man, William. And I plan to stay married. End of conversation. Never mention her again.”

Why would I want anyone else, when I crave my wife to the point of madness?he neglected to add, praying that Samuel’s deliberately incendiary comment from earlier wouldn’t give Sophia doubts about what favor she wanted to ask for. That was precisely why he also needed others to stop talking about it.

“But it’s Lady Elspeth!” William urged. “You’d be a fool not to rekindle that old flame.”

Thomas shot him a savage look. “Enough.”

“I bet you did, you sly dog.”

Neither Thomas nor William had noticed Sophia passing them to fetch Rosamund a glass of water earlier, and they likely had not considered that they could be easily overheard. Sophia had not paused to confront them, an ache in her chest hurrying her along before she heard something that might truly hurt.

But now that she was alone in the library, with no company but her thoughts, it was allshe could think about.

Elspeth… Who is she?

And what was this new feeling inside her? It stung and crawled up her spine like an ant. She wasn’t supposed to care, she wasn’t supposed to be affected, she wasn’t supposed to give a single hoot about the life Thomas had before her, or the life he might have while he was married to her.

The cushion of the reading chair was uncharacteristically uncomfortable. She had recently made a habit of spending a lot of time there and immersing herself in different books, but that evening, she found herself restless.

She closed her book and stood up. Her mind was in a riot, juggling several thoughts together—but none of them made sense. Why had she felt like that? Why did shestillfeel like that?Why had this feeling shown up out of nowhere when she hadn’t asked for it? It ate away at her mind as she paced around the room.

How long has he known her? Are they still in contact? And what if?—

“Stop it,” she hissed to herself. “This is ridiculous. Justask, don’t tie yourself in knots!”

She steadied herself against the armrest and took a few deep breaths. That done, she walked out. She knew Thomas would be in his study, and she was going to pay him a visit.

She wouldn’t be undermined; she couldn’t allow that. This had nothing to do with their sham of a marriage, but everything to do with her sense of self-respect. If he wanted to take lovers, she had every right to know, and every right to demand the same liberty in return… as a formality, if not a reality.

“Who is Elspeth?” she asked, striding into her husband’s sanctuary.

Thomas lifted his head from the stack of papers that never seemed to get any smaller. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Elspeth—who is she? Is she someone I should meet? Is she a lover I should know about? A wife should know about her husband’s paramours, shouldn’t she?”

Sophia hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt, but after the way he had teased her in the stable yard, she couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t be another notch on his bedpost.

“Sophia, this is beneath you,” he said too calmly.

“I don’t think it is.” She sniffed. “Besides, you owe me a favor.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “And that is how you want to waste it? By commanding me to reply to silly questions? It’s disappointing, but very well—Lady Elspeth is no one. I haven’t seen her in years, and I don’t intend to now. Lovers are not appropriate for a duke’s heir, and they’re not appropriate for a duke either.”

Her jaw slackened, hearing the sense in what he said. He was honorable and regimented to a fault, more likely to start singing unprompted than dallying. She had let her brother get into her head—a man who would have done anything, even at her expense, to get one last shot at the Pratts.

Now, she had lost the favor she had been saving.

“No… this isn’t what I wanted,” she said urgently, and Thomas sat back, his posture relaxing. “I have had time to think, and I have decided.”

Thomas shrugged and crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue.

“I would like to borrow something from you,” she said uncertainly.

“Borrow?”

“Yes.”

“We are married, Sophia. What belongs to me belongs to you. Take anything you want—keep it if you want,” he said with indifference, waving a hand at her.

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