Behind the Courtesan - By Bronwyn Stuart Page 0,43
a villager.” What she really wanted to do was take his snide attitude and choke him with it, but for the moment she would have to settle for reminding His High and Mightiness that she was a commoner. Even though she also hated to remind him of her ties to the town, perhaps that would be enough to keep him from returning to plague her with his presence.
The duke’s responding words told her she fought a losing battle. “Don’t be silly, you could never be compared to the likes of peasants.”
Biting her tongue on a sharp retort, she inclined her head and lifted a forkful of pie to her mouth. She needed to eat and then leave.
The duke had other plans. “How long ago did you leave this godforsaken place?”
“I have been away fourteen years.”
“So you knew my uncle then?”
Sophia almost choked. Knew him? God, how she wish she didn’t. How differently her life would have turned out. “Only in passing, Your Grace.”
“I asked you to call me Blakiston.”
“Of course.” Sophia couldn’t eat fast enough. She had to get out of there. Blakiston had barely touched his dinner. Instead he leaned back in his chair and regarded her with an interest that made her skin crawl.
“What made you leave?”
A change of subject was required. Yet swallowing was almost impossible as terror seized her limbs and heart.
“Would you live in this tiny village? Anyway, it’s a long and boring story and I would rather hear more about you. When did you take the title?”
A sigh of relief escaped her as he launched into a monologue about his life before inheriting and how mean his uncle had been before his death, but Sophia barely heard any of it. Her heart raced and her fingers grew so clammy, she nearly couldn’t hold her fork up any longer. It was bound to come up again, but the real story was only known by two other people and they were both dead.
And the truth would never come from her mouth.
* * *
Within hours of Blake’s forced convalescence, he was bored out of his mind. Within twenty-four hours, he was more than ready to end his own life rather than be still for one more minute. Forced to endure the sight of Sophia doing his chores from the corner of the kitchen where he sat. Forced to watch her carry water for the dishes and firewood to heat the water. It made his arms ache to relieve her burden. Sure, she protested that she was up to the task, but when her brow creased and she had to bite her lip from exertion, he would stand to help and she would stop him in his tracks with one raised-brow glare.
There was a difference between being stubborn and being stupid, and she didn’t seem to know where the line was drawn. He couldn’t even get away from her by spending time outdoors, since a thunderstorm raged around them.
“Damn pot,” she mumbled beneath her breath while scrubbing vigorously, delicate sleeves pulled past her tiny elbows as lightning lit the room through the open back door.
He’d had much time to study her over the course of the day. He’d never before noticed just how fragile she appeared. Her fingers and hands were dainty and elegant to the point where he was surprised she didn’t break bones doing the most menial chores. She may adamantly insist upon being up to the responsibility and in her mind she probably was, but physically, there were jobs she would have trouble doing.
“Did you muck out the pig pen today, Sophia?”
She must have forgotten he was there; her head snapped up and she pinned him with a glare. “Of course I did.”
“And the chicken coop?”
“Yes, Blake.” She puffed a lock of hair from in front of her eyes. “I did everything on the list.”
He smiled. There was no way she could have done everything. “What about greasing the wagon wheel? Did the rain make the job harder?” It was partly her fault that he couldn’t get about since she had sided with the doctor and he planned to make her squirm.
“All done. The rain was no hindrance. It did stop for a spell today.” She turned back to the large pot and continued to scrub.
Blake rose from his chair in the corner of the kitchen and hobbled over to her. “How did you do it?”
Her hands stilled for a moment, but then the scrubbing became more furious. “I had help.”