Behind the Courtesan - By Bronwyn Stuart Page 0,42
breath through clenched teeth, and muttered something that sounded like a curse.
“Can I bring you something?”
“New ribs?”
Now it was her turn to chuckle. “I’m afraid that is not on the list of my talents.”
His gaze narrowed but not with anger or suspicion, more curiosity. “I have to admit your list of talents is growing.” So Dominic hadn’t told him anything? She breathed a sigh of relief.
“No, it isn’t. When I told you I could do it, I wasn’t talking with my ego. I truly thought I could.”
“And you have.”
“A few days hardly counts.”
“All the same, I owe you my thanks.”
Her cheeks warmed as she broke eye contact and stared down at the tray in her hands. What could she say to that? His praise wasn’t unfounded, she had done a good job tonight, but all the same, it was unexpected and he shocked her with his open honesty.
“Is that my supper?” he pointed to the tray.
“Blakiston is here to check on my welfare.”
All was silent for a long moment forcing Sophia to look into Blake’s stormy gray eyes. She didn’t like what she saw.
“He will see I am fine, I shall do my duty and share a meal with him and then he’ll leave.”
“And then he’ll come back again and again.”
“No he won’t. I’ll make it clear that he can’t.”
Blake snorted. “You can try but I’ll wager this inn he won’t listen.”
“Careful, Blake, you seem to be in danger of paying me another compliment.”
“A fool would have to be blind to miss your beauty, Sophie, and the duke may be an ass, but he is no fool.”
When her cheeks warmed this time it had nothing to do with the compliment, more to do with embarrassment that they would speak so openly. “What will it take for you to believe that I can look after myself when it comes to men?” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
His lips pressed together in a thin line, but he didn’t answer.
“If that is all, I’ll take His Grace his dinner and then get back to the kitchen to tidy up.”
“Be careful.”
“I always am,” she replied before turning from the threshold. What she should have said was that she always would be from then on.
“Sophie?”
She stopped. “Yes?”
“I know you can look after yourself, but if you do need assistance, scream.”
“I will.”
She didn’t have to look back to know he would be happy with her answer, but she had no intention of screaming for help. She’d done that before, for three long days until her voice was hoarse. It hadn’t helped her then.
Outside the dining room, Sophia paused and shook her head free of thoughts of the past. It took some effort to lift the edges of her lips into a smile, but she did so before knocking softly and entering.
“Sophia.” He rose from his chair. “You look... Well, you look...”
“Filthy, Your Grace? I am sorry to have to greet you thus, but I didn’t have time to freshen up.” Only half a lie but the duke was still fixated on her floury gown.
“What on earth have you been doing?”
“Preparing the evening meal.” She almost smiled when his lip curled with distaste.
He sputtered for a moment before asking, “Why?”
“Blake is on bed rest for the remainder of the week and couldn’t do it himself.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to.”
“Someone must and he is my friend.”
“I thought you said you weren’t close.” His expression was full of suspicion, of disgust.
Hmm, she had said exactly that. “It is my fault that we were on the road yesterday and my conscience was rather loud about making some recompense.”
“But making supper?”
Sophia shrugged and placed both plates on the table. “The pie only needed heating and the bread didn’t turn out, so what I did do, I did poorly.”
“You shouldn’t have been forced to do it in the first place. I shall send one of my cooks over so you don’t have to do it again. A woman with your delicate nature shouldn’t be reduced to kitchen work.”
To delay her next words, to choose those words carefully, Sophia sat and made a show of organizing her floury skirts about her tired ankles. “You are very kind, Your Grace, but you needn’t bother yourself or your cook. We will get along, I’m sure.”
“That blackguard is probably just fine. He uses you to do his work.”
“His injuries speak clearly enough and I am happy to do it. After all, I was born in this village, I suppose that makes me