Ann was the closest thing Sophia had to a real friend. She loved Mara, but Sophia and her sister were more competitors than anything else. There weren’t any other young ladies who she could call morethan acquaintances. Most were like Hortensia. Or Miss Newsome.
“I want to know everything. I certainly can’t ask Timmons. And Roxboro is not forthcoming.” She glanced out the window. “We have time. Lord Damon still lingers downstairs.”
Like the plague.
Rude to stay, given it was Roxboro’s wedding night. His uncle should have departed with the others. Or at least after one last celebratory brandy.
“The staff adores the duke but worries over his well-being given his…pursuits. Especially,” her brow wrinkled. “If he is on horseback. Apparently, the duke has never sat a horse terribly well even before….” The words hovered in the air.
“He became a sot?”
Ann nodded.
Sophia had already assumed as much. Roxboro, for all that he moved elegantly and was stunning to look at, happened to be clumsy. Which was oddly endearing considering he was a duke. And a libertine.
“So why not simply take a carriage?”
“Lord Damon insists he ride as a duke should.”
Sophia took another sip of the wine. Roxboro’s uncle seemed far too involved in his nephew’s life, in her opinion, though it was hardly any of her affair. This marriage had been made to satisfy her father’s honor and preserve Sophia’s reputation. The less she knew about Roxboro, the better off she would be.
“That’s all I overheard, Your Grace. But I’ll endeavor to learn more. I have already met Stone, the duke’s valet. He is not so…reserved as Timmons. Stone worries greatly for His Grace.”
Implying that Timmons did not.
“I’m sure I’ll make Stone’s acquaintance at some point.” Manners dictated that she be presented to the entire staff, which should have occurred immediately upon arriving for the wedding breakfast, butthat hadn’t happened. Nor before she’d gone up to her new rooms. But given Roxboro was sending her to live in the country, maybe he’d decided she didn’t need to become familiar with the staff here or run the household.
Still, rather strange.
“I’ll take my leave, Your Grace, unless there is anything else. If there is a light supper to be served, I’ll bring up a tray or,” her eyes ran up and down Sophia’s lace covered form. “Come dress you.”
“That won’t be necessary. This,” she waved a hand over the tray Ann had prepared. “Will suffice. I won’t need you again, Ann. Thank you for coming with me. I assume Timmons has given you quarters?”
“He has.” The maid bobbed. “And it is my pleasure to continue in your service, Your Grace.” Ann headed out the door, shutting it behind her with a soft click.
Sophia sat in the silence and sipped her wine. Picked at the food on the tray. Stared at Damon’s carriage outside. Listened for Roxboro.
Her husband was a strange paradox. Duke. Debauched libertine. Beautiful in a way few men were. A bit of a clumsy oaf and prone to accidents. Notexactlythe wicked rogue she’d first imagined.
A laugh bubbled out of her.
But also…she suspected, firmly wedged beneath the thumb of Damon Viceroy. Whether because of Roxboro’s unapologetic lifestyle which made him unfit for many of his ducal duties or because Damon refused to release his grip on the Roxboro estate, Sophia wasn’t sure. But neither reason sat well with her.
Closing her eyes, Sophia’s mind drifted over the day’s events. If Roxboro appeared, she would submit as was her duty. Consummate the marriage. Hopefully, produce an heir so that there would be no further reason to submit to his attentions. He was free to go about his business. She had an entire speech planned, reciting the words in her head as she enjoyed her wine.
More time passed. The sun dipped low in the sky before disappearingcompletely. The front door finally opened and shut. Low voices drifted up the stairs along with the sound of Damon’s carriage finally rolling away.
She glanced at the clock. Later than she’d thought. Roxboro was certain to appear any moment, if for no other reason than to bid her good night. Sophia chewed another grape. Listened for Roxboro’s tread to come up the stairs, but the house remained quiet and the connecting door stayed firmly shut.
Sophia fluffed out the folds of her nightgown. And waited.
Another hour passed. Noises came from the hall.
Deciding to be courageous, thanks to the half bottle of wine she’d consumed, Sophia marched across the room, determined confront her husband. Unsteadily, she came to her feet and went to the door connecting their rooms and turned the knob.
The door didn’t budge.
Locked. Roxboro had locked her out.
