the knife. Evidently they weren’t going to be friends. Best, then, to let the marchioness know that she wasn’t anyone to be trifled with or dismissed, either. “But you felt the need to first tell me of your disdain, I assume?”
“My, aren’t you bold for such a little nothing?”
Once Lady Wallace took a seat at the head of the table, Sophia likewise sat—though she decided that the chair nearest the door made the most sense strategically. “I’m sorry to tell you that you are far from the first person to insult me for being born, my lady. In fact, I’ve been insulted by people whose opinion I hold in much higher regard than yours.”
“Your birth was an unfortunate mistake, but I was insulting you for working at that club. And for then having the presumption to accept an invitation made either as a jest, or in a misguided attempt at charity.”
“I rarely jest, and I didn’t invite Miss White here out of any kind of charity.”
The Duke of Greaves walked into the room, Udgell and two footmen on his heels. And however regal his sister might be, Sophia knew without hesitation to whom this house, this room, this life, belonged. “Good evening, Adam,” she said deliberately.
A smile touched his lips, then vanished again. “And to you, Sophia.” He walked around the table, not to take Lady Wallace’s place at the head, but to sit directly opposite Sophia. “If you wish to rule the dinner table, Eustace, then call for the soup. I’m hungry.”
Her own expression much less amused, the marchioness waved her fingers at the butler. “You’ve ordered me to be polite, but evidently you don’t require that your own sister be treated with any respect at all.”
“I heard you being a viper before I reached the door. Mind your manners, and I imagine that Miss White will do the same.”
She felt rather than saw his glance at her, but she nodded. “Of course.” When she did look over at him, his gray eyes were lowered, sweeping down to her bosom and back again. Her insides heated. She owed this man a kiss, at the time of his choosing. Losing a game of billiards had abruptly become more interesting than she’d ever expected.
“Susan Simmons, I presume?” he asked after a moment.
Belatedly she remembered the borrowed dress. “Yes. This gown must have cost her a fortune. She’s very generous to lend it to me. Thank you for mentioning her.”
“I thought you and she might be the same size.”
She almost asked if he noticed everyone’s dimensions with such accuracy, but considering how lovely the dress was and how short on allies she happened to be, she decided that now might not be the best moment to jest with him. “I’ll attempt not to spill anything on it.”
A deeper grin flashed across his mouth, attractive and infectious. “I’m certain Mrs. Simmons would appreciate that,” he returned.
“That is a borrowed gown?” Lady Wallace put in. “How gauche.”
Ha. The marchioness should have seen her in the yellow morning dress. “My things were lost in the river,” she said aloud. “I am making do.”
“A shame you weren’t lost, as well.”
“Eustace. You may dine in your rooms. Now.”
Her gray eyes narrowed, Lady Wallace stood and flung her napkin onto the table. “Conduct yourself as you will then, Adam. I’m certain no one could be surprised to see you following in Father’s footsteps. A redhead, even.”
“That’s enough.”
“I’m very nearly ready to stop wishing you well, Adam, and to be thankful that bridge fell and this won’t go on for much longer.”
Sophia watched her out of the room. As she turned back to commiserate with the duke, however, the deeply angry expression on his face stopped her. His sister’s parting words had seemed a minor insult, but she’d also seen the painting of the former duke in the portrait gallery. And she’d felt the heaviness in the air when she looked at it.
As she was casting about for something to say that wouldn’t
“My, aren’t you bold for such a little nothing?”
Once Lady Wallace took a seat at the head of the table, Sophia likewise sat—though she decided that the chair nearest the door made the most sense strategically. “I’m sorry to tell you that you are far from the first person to insult me for being born, my lady. In fact, I’ve been insulted by people whose opinion I hold in much higher regard than yours.”
“Your birth was an unfortunate mistake, but I was insulting you for working at that club. And for then having the presumption to accept an invitation made either as a jest, or in a misguided attempt at charity.”
“I rarely jest, and I didn’t invite Miss White here out of any kind of charity.”
The Duke of Greaves walked into the room, Udgell and two footmen on his heels. And however regal his sister might be, Sophia knew without hesitation to whom this house, this room, this life, belonged. “Good evening, Adam,” she said deliberately.
A smile touched his lips, then vanished again. “And to you, Sophia.” He walked around the table, not to take Lady Wallace’s place at the head, but to sit directly opposite Sophia. “If you wish to rule the dinner table, Eustace, then call for the soup. I’m hungry.”
Her own expression much less amused, the marchioness waved her fingers at the butler. “You’ve ordered me to be polite, but evidently you don’t require that your own sister be treated with any respect at all.”
“I heard you being a viper before I reached the door. Mind your manners, and I imagine that Miss White will do the same.”
She felt rather than saw his glance at her, but she nodded. “Of course.” When she did look over at him, his gray eyes were lowered, sweeping down to her bosom and back again. Her insides heated. She owed this man a kiss, at the time of his choosing. Losing a game of billiards had abruptly become more interesting than she’d ever expected.
“Susan Simmons, I presume?” he asked after a moment.
Belatedly she remembered the borrowed dress. “Yes. This gown must have cost her a fortune. She’s very generous to lend it to me. Thank you for mentioning her.”
“I thought you and she might be the same size.”
She almost asked if he noticed everyone’s dimensions with such accuracy, but considering how lovely the dress was and how short on allies she happened to be, she decided that now might not be the best moment to jest with him. “I’ll attempt not to spill anything on it.”
A deeper grin flashed across his mouth, attractive and infectious. “I’m certain Mrs. Simmons would appreciate that,” he returned.
“That is a borrowed gown?” Lady Wallace put in. “How gauche.”
Ha. The marchioness should have seen her in the yellow morning dress. “My things were lost in the river,” she said aloud. “I am making do.”
“A shame you weren’t lost, as well.”
“Eustace. You may dine in your rooms. Now.”
Her gray eyes narrowed, Lady Wallace stood and flung her napkin onto the table. “Conduct yourself as you will then, Adam. I’m certain no one could be surprised to see you following in Father’s footsteps. A redhead, even.”
“That’s enough.”
“I’m very nearly ready to stop wishing you well, Adam, and to be thankful that bridge fell and this won’t go on for much longer.”
Sophia watched her out of the room. As she turned back to commiserate with the duke, however, the deeply angry expression on his face stopped her. His sister’s parting words had seemed a minor insult, but she’d also seen the painting of the former duke in the portrait gallery. And she’d felt the heaviness in the air when she looked at it.
As she was casting about for something to say that wouldn’t
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