Page 75 of His Enemy Duchess

Sophia chuckled loudly at that statement—it was a crystal-clear laugh and one that Thomas hadn’t heard too often. He felt a pang of jealousy in his chest.

That ugly, little green demon had the tendency to show up in the most inconvenient of places.

“Oh, but Lord Redcliffe, don’t you know that it’s unbecoming to lie to a lady, much less a duchess, the very first time you meet her?” Sophia asked with a mischievous smile. “I know for a fact that Thomas is not one to spout stories left and right, especiallyabout my good qualities. My bad ones, though—that is a lot more likely.”

She sipped her punch as Robert looked back at Thomas with a slack jaw.

“Oh, I like her very much,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. “Indeed, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you finally, Your Grace. And I wish you the best of luck in thawing the iceberg of a man I call my friend.”

Sophia laughed again, the sound digging into Thomas’s heart.

“Thank you, Lord Redcliffe. If you can recommend any good pickaxes, I could use the assistance,” she responded.

Robert chuckled heartily, finally letting go of her hand.

At that, relief soothed the jealousy in Thomas’s chest. They were just jesting, getting acquainted—wasn’t that what every man wanted for his wife and his dearest friend?

“Robert, would you mind keeping my wife company for a few minutes? I need to have a private talk with Lord Rutherford,” Thomas said, suddenly remembering he had a social responsibility to fulfill.

Robert smiled. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

Thomas walked away from both of them, feeling momentarily at ease, knowing he didn’t have to look at her for a bit. Though he felt a slight prickle at the back of his neck as he wandered off, as if someone was watching him intently, burning a hole into him.

Thomas was bored out of his mind. Lord Rutherford was quite an older man, with a voice that droned over dull subjects, pausing to give hope that he was ending his speech before he struck up a new one to dash that hope.

Even though Thomas had spent a lifetime training for discussions like these and saw it as another necessary part of his title, today he found his eyes glazing over, and he had to ask for clarification or for things to be repeated multiple times.

It must be the lack of sleep.

He calculated all of his sleeping hours during the last week. Most nights, he could count them on one hand. Something Sophia-shaped had been keeping him up at night, eating away at him, tormenting him.

Thomas scratched his chin absentmindedly. His skin was rough and itchy, and he felt the slight prick of tiny hair.

What on earth?

Had he really left the house without shaving?

What’s wrong with you?

He felt his breath quickening, and suddenly, the rest of the world didn’t exist, melting into a blur. He felt aware of himself, of his body, of his clothes, of his existence, but nothing beyond it.

You left her after making love to her. You were craven then, and you are being craven now… Thatwould disappoint your father more than anything.

He blinked himself back into the present and looked directly at where he knew Sophia and Robert would be.

She was laughing, her hand clutching at her chest, her eyes glittering with joy. She was laughing with reckless abandon, the sound echoing in the air like tiny bells.His wifewas laughing with another man, and, worst of all, he had encouraged it.

“And so, Your Grace, what is your opinion on the matter?” asked Rutherford, drawing his attention.

Thomas blinked quickly and turned his head. He needed an exit.

“I… I am so sorry, My Lords, but I’m afraid I’m not very good company tonight. I must be coming down with something, I fear. I can barely hold myself together,” he added with a fake laugh.

The other lords grumbled and expressed several words of agreement.

“If you will excuse me, I think I shall leave early tonight,” he said and retreated from the conversation.

“Oh, but Lord Redcliffe, you’ll need to excuse me. I am positively famished,” Sophia said, fearing she was drawing too much attention to herself, being in the company of a man who wasn’t her husband while wearing a Mandolini gown.

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