Chapters (23)
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Author’s Note
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- About Bywater Books
Sophia suffered a pang of loneliness at the loss of Vic’s open, easy assurance. Then a surge of frustration welled up in her. She hated feeling out of place. She hated feeling lost. She’d worked and fought and climbed too hard and too far to awkwardly await cues from anyone. She was a strong, confident woman, and Vic had never done anything but affirm that belief. Whatever was happening between them now, Sophia had no intention of letting herself feel any less worthy of Vic’s company because of it.
“Sure.” She forced a smile. “I don’t see what harm could come of a movie night with three gracious hosts.”
The duke’s smile was genuine, but Vic’s shoulders fell slightly. It was only a small movement, but that combined with the slow curl of the duchess’s lips told her quite clearly that she’d just walked into a trap.
••••
Vic’s stomach roiled as she fought to keep from pacing in front of the library doors. Even the sound of the ice rattling around her mother’s cocktail glass made her want to crawl out of her skin. The waiting might drive her to the brink of insanity before the other shoe ever had a chance to crush her, but she didn’t delude herself into thinking this would be the worst part of the evening.
“I must admit, the crew did a lovely job of clearing out quickly this evening,” her mother said from near the window. “You do seem to have held them in check thus far.”
“They haven’t been a problem.” Vic kept her voice neutral. “The scheduling continues to be a nightmare, but never the people.”
“I find that to be true in a great many situations,” her father said, rounding the corner. He’d changed into khakis and a blue dress shirt, left open at the collar. It was as dressed down as he generally got in the evenings. “What are you drinking tonight, Vic?”
“She’s not yet,” her mother cut in. “Curious, no?”
“I was merely waiting for Father to arrive. I’ve missed his gin and tonics. No one else makes them to his standards.”
“It’s good to know my Eton education still serves its purposes in some areas.” He smiled broadly, but her mother merely glanced at her watch.