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Authors: Michele Bekemeyer
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her fast. The sideboard was loaded with all of her favorites—poached eggs, ham, crispy bacon, and wedges of cheese and apples. Plate full, she sat down at the table and signaled for a footman to pour her tea. Simon entered the room halfway through her meal.
“You look a fright,” she said without preamble as she popped a piece of scone into her mouth.
He gave her a jaunty grin. “Good morning to you, as well, little sister.”
“You weren't home when mama and I returned. Where did you go after the ball?”
“Out.”
“Searching for a wife?” she asked, mostly just to annoy him. The truce she reached with Andrew was not enough incentive to forgive Simon for his part. He shot her a warning glance as he took his seat, then reached for the paper that had been ironed and laid out for him. She stood and wandered to the sideboard for another dollop of jam.
“Did you enjoy yourself last evening?” he asked through a full mouth.
She stiffened, but kept her tone light. “I did,” she said, taking great pleasure in the clanging sound the serving spoon made against her plate.
“Excellent.”
“And have you anything to add to that?” she asked as she crossed behind him, taking the seat to his immediate right. “An apology perhaps?”
He set the paper down and glanced over. “I do not,” he said, aiming his loaded fork at her nose.
Sophie scowled. No matter how pompous or arrogant his behavior, he had never once apologized. Expecting him to do so this time was the equivalent of believing rain could fall from the ground up. “That was a nasty trick you pulled.”
Looking incredibly amused, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Sophie, you know as well as I that you would not have spoken with him otherwise.” The look on his face dared her to contradict him.
Her inability to refute did not stop her angry retort. “Since when is our reconciliation a concern of yours?”
“Since you will be marrying this season.”
“Which has nothing at all to do with the duke.”
“I disagree. Just as no man would risk the censure of courting a ruined woman, no man will wed you if he believes the cost is a peer’s favor. Like it or not, it is the way of our world,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug.
“That is utter rubbish.”
“Is it? Would you want to marry a man your peers considered unworthy?”
“I don't want to marry at all, as you bloody well know!”
“Language, Sophie,” Louise scolded as she entered the room. “Heavens, you sound like a common fishwife.”
“Sorry, mama,” she said, tossing Simon an irritated look.
“The point is, your options will remain limited until society has proof he harbors you no ill will.”
“But they had their proof last night when the duke and I shared a waltz.”
“During which you appeared to be chewing rocks,” he said with a condescending chuckle.
“I've seen smiles less artificial between bitter enemies,” Louise added as she set her plate down on the table.
“His Grace is hardly my enemy, mama.”
“He will be, if you continue to behave impertinently.”
“Tolland is not a man prone to spite,” Simon said, “but if you push him, I can assure you he will react as such.”
Sophie's fingers tightened around the handle of her teacup. “I wasn't the one doing the pushing last night, Simon, as you well know.”
“All your brother is trying to say, darling,” Louise said in a serious voice, “is that you would do well to keep the duke on your good side.”
“And all I am saying is, I don't need help with the matter.” She glared at her brother. “Especially not from you.”
“After what happened in his study, you cannot fault me for wanting to smooth things over. I did what I thought was best. ”
Sophie blinked twice, averting her eyes as embarrassment stung her cheeks.
“What happened in his study?” Louise asked, blanching.
“It isn't important, Mother,” Simon said with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
“You look a fright,” she said without preamble as she popped a piece of scone into her mouth.
He gave her a jaunty grin. “Good morning to you, as well, little sister.”
“You weren't home when mama and I returned. Where did you go after the ball?”
“Out.”
“Searching for a wife?” she asked, mostly just to annoy him. The truce she reached with Andrew was not enough incentive to forgive Simon for his part. He shot her a warning glance as he took his seat, then reached for the paper that had been ironed and laid out for him. She stood and wandered to the sideboard for another dollop of jam.
“Did you enjoy yourself last evening?” he asked through a full mouth.
She stiffened, but kept her tone light. “I did,” she said, taking great pleasure in the clanging sound the serving spoon made against her plate.
“Excellent.”
“And have you anything to add to that?” she asked as she crossed behind him, taking the seat to his immediate right. “An apology perhaps?”
He set the paper down and glanced over. “I do not,” he said, aiming his loaded fork at her nose.
Sophie scowled. No matter how pompous or arrogant his behavior, he had never once apologized. Expecting him to do so this time was the equivalent of believing rain could fall from the ground up. “That was a nasty trick you pulled.”
Looking incredibly amused, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Sophie, you know as well as I that you would not have spoken with him otherwise.” The look on his face dared her to contradict him.
Her inability to refute did not stop her angry retort. “Since when is our reconciliation a concern of yours?”
“Since you will be marrying this season.”
“Which has nothing at all to do with the duke.”
“I disagree. Just as no man would risk the censure of courting a ruined woman, no man will wed you if he believes the cost is a peer’s favor. Like it or not, it is the way of our world,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug.
“That is utter rubbish.”
“Is it? Would you want to marry a man your peers considered unworthy?”
“I don't want to marry at all, as you bloody well know!”
“Language, Sophie,” Louise scolded as she entered the room. “Heavens, you sound like a common fishwife.”
“Sorry, mama,” she said, tossing Simon an irritated look.
“The point is, your options will remain limited until society has proof he harbors you no ill will.”
“But they had their proof last night when the duke and I shared a waltz.”
“During which you appeared to be chewing rocks,” he said with a condescending chuckle.
“I've seen smiles less artificial between bitter enemies,” Louise added as she set her plate down on the table.
“His Grace is hardly my enemy, mama.”
“He will be, if you continue to behave impertinently.”
“Tolland is not a man prone to spite,” Simon said, “but if you push him, I can assure you he will react as such.”
Sophie's fingers tightened around the handle of her teacup. “I wasn't the one doing the pushing last night, Simon, as you well know.”
“All your brother is trying to say, darling,” Louise said in a serious voice, “is that you would do well to keep the duke on your good side.”
“And all I am saying is, I don't need help with the matter.” She glared at her brother. “Especially not from you.”
“After what happened in his study, you cannot fault me for wanting to smooth things over. I did what I thought was best. ”
Sophie blinked twice, averting her eyes as embarrassment stung her cheeks.
“What happened in his study?” Louise asked, blanching.
“It isn't important, Mother,” Simon said with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
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