Behind the Courtesan - By Bronwyn Stuart Page 0,11
his mind he began to better formulate the plan. She wouldn’t even be aware that he watched over her.
It sounded so simple. Why did it have to feel so complicated?
Chapter Three
Sophia had been sleeping the sleep of the dead when the banging started. First it was so soft she barely drifted to a level above unconsciousness. Then it got louder. And louder. And louder. Once she realized it was her door someone was trying to knock down, she leapt from her bed. Not bothering with a wrapper or shawl, she gripped the handle and threw the door wide.
“What?” she asked into the gloom. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“It’s time to wake up, Duchess.”
Sophia tried to comprehend just what had happened that would make Blake wake her in such a manner. He was dressed in a thick brown coat buttoned only halfway, a shirt the same color peeking from beneath. Navy breeches replaced yesterday’s trousers and were tucked into high boots, mud already marring the dark surface. As her sleepy gaze traveled back up to his face, he also wore that smug look that clearly came as second nature. Most other people smiled, she thought sourly.
“Get dressed, we’re already late.”
Puzzled, she answered, “Late for what?” But Blake was already gone. His long strides carried him along the corridor where he thumped down the stairs and into the lower parts of the tavern.
Sophia closed the door and peered into the darkness overlooking the rear yard. It was pitch black out. Why did he wake her? For a moment she’d worried that something had happened to Violet through the night.
But then those anxious feelings sank to the pit of her stomach with a weight she did not like. Why would Violet need her help with anything? It was clear her sister-in-law wasn’t enamored of her. She lit a candle and sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the cradle in the corner of the room. She should have left it in London with everything else she wouldn’t need for the rest of her life. It would have fit next to the chest holding her ball gowns and crystal slippers. Right beside the tiny gown her own child would have worn had it been born.
With a shuddering breath, she tore her gaze away. Today was not a day for tears. Today was a day for taking her mind off London and what-should-have-beens. Today she was going to show Blake Vale that she was a perfectly capable woman.
The memory of last night’s challenge almost sapped her will. Surely normal, everyday folk didn’t rise before the rooster had the chance to crow his crow? She knew farmers rolled from their beds at god-awful hours, but not tavern keepers. What could possibly need doing before the guests or patrons had even thought of breakfast or their first ale for the day?
Sophia contemplated the comfortable bed. She could settle beneath the warm blankets and go back to sleep, but Blake would expect her to do that. He would expect her to quake at the first hurdle, and to get up before the sun definitely counted as a hurdle. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction so she threw a blanket over the cradle and then opened her dresser and rifled through the gowns hanging in the cramped space. Eventually Sophia decided a riding habit would have to suffice. She didn’t have clothing suitable for mucking out stables. And she was sure that’s what Blake had in mind. He wouldn’t stop today until she begged for mercy. It wasn’t the first time her stubborn pride had gotten her into trouble.
The next knock at the door startled her so much her hands shook and the shoelace she tied snapped off in her fingers. “Damnation,” she swore beneath her breath. She didn’t have another pair of shoes she was willing to sacrifice in the name of idiocy and her riding boots had a heel on them that would leave her with a limp by the end of the first hour.
With a muttered curse she tucked what was left of the laces into the top of her shoe and stalked to the door. She took a second to school her features and when she opened it, gave Blake the brightest smile she could summon. “Good morning, Blake.”
“That’s not going to work with me this morning, Duchess.”
“What?” Feigned innocence was one of the best weapons she had at her disposal and she did it well.