Page 67 of His Enemy Duchess

Rosamund shook her head and giggled. “No, no, it was Thomas.”

Sophia gasped at her response. “Really?”

“Oh, he felt so bad—he was my little naughty boy. He’d run around like a little imp every time he visited,” Rosamund said with a smile, and Sophia couldn’t help but smile too. Rosamund had a really kind heart, infectiously sweet at all times. “We sat down together and glued it back up. I have kept it proudly ever since—a reminder of a memory I wouldn’t exchange for anything. Indeed, I think it is even more beautiful now.”

Sophia stared at the vase afresh, trying to picture Thomas as a boy, running wild and hurling things around the room, living the sort of carefree life that she and her brothers had enjoyed. It was hard to reconcile that boy with the man she had married, the man who had dismissed her with a note.

Evidently, he didn’t begin life that way—so cold and emotionless. What a pity he had to change.

It was an even greater pity that she couldn’t see the beauty in that smashed vase. All she saw was her own heart, carelessly shattered, with no hope of it being glued back together.

Both women returned quietly to their needles as Sophia struggled to read the instructions in the handbook that Rosamund gave her. She felt incompetent next to the old lady, whose fingers worked with incredible speed, showing decades of experience. But Sophia couldn’t let her down either.

After around half an hour, they took a break.

“I don’t like to bother my housekeeper with trivial things that I can do perfectly well by myself, so we’ll have to pour tea ourselves. I hope you don’t mind,” Rosamund said.

“Of course not, Your Grace.”

Sophia found she rather liked that independent spirit, making her wonder how she would fare without the aid of servants.

“And please, stop calling me that. I haven’t felt like a duchess in two decades,” Rosamund insisted with a chuckle. “My daughter-in-law would certainly prefer it if I didn’t exist.”

“I don’t feel much like a duchess either,” responded Sophia, uncertain whether or not to pick at the obvious daughter-in-law wound.

“You won’t find me disagreeing there. In my youth, I would have abandoned the title altogether if I could. Being a dowager only made it worse—all that bowing and scraping for no good reason,” Rosamund complained as she slowly poured the lovely-smelling tea into two cups.

“It has been that bad?” asked Sophia, a bit of concern in her voice.

“Honestly, no, notthatbad… It was just that I was never interested in that sort of life and the weight that came with it. I don’t envy you, but I’m not afraid for you either, Sophia. I can tell you have a good heart. I know you’ll be a worthy duchess for years to come.”

Sophia looked down at her tea, wondering if she should speak her mind. She decided that if there was anyone that she could open her heart to, it was this woman.

“I have something to confess, Rosamund…” she ended up saying.

“Nothing better than a cup of tea to open one’s soul.”

A short silence followed as Sophia sipped a bit of her tea.

“I… I am not actually in love with your grandson. I’m sorry. We have been… keeping up this charade that we were in love all along, and wearefinally bringing the families together and ending the feud—which is nothing to be sniffed at… But it’s all a lie. It is still a marriage of convenience. I know you only treat me like this because you think I’m in love with him, but?—”

“Oh, hold on a minute now. What was that?” asked Rosamund, interrupting her. Sophia was confused, not expecting that reaction at all. “What did you say there at the end?”

“That… you only treat me like this… because you think I’m in love with him?”

Rosamund tutted, wagging a crooked finger. “Oh no, my dear. No, no. Who told you that?” She reached out and cupped Sophia’s cheek in her hand. “That’s not at all the case, my dear!”

“But… but I thought… I thought you only tolerated me because of that,” Sophia stammered, confused.

“Why would you think that?!”

“Because… because of the feud?—”

If Rosamund had had feathers, they would have been truly ruffled. “Oh, feud this, feud that. Pish posh! A load ofbalderdash, I say. Always has been!”

Sophia blinked in astonishment, her mouth agape.

“I treat you like this because you have a kind heart. I knew it the moment you knelt and helped me, and were generous in the face of my confusion,” Rosamund continued. “And nothing can change that. I couldn’t give a rat’s tail about this so-called feud. It should have died along with the ones who caused it.”

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