No one did.
Sophia crouched down, slid the yoke carefully from her shoulders, set it down as quietly as she could on the cobbles, and tried to slide the buckleunder the door.
It didn’t fit.
She gave it a little shove, but it didn’t budge.
“Dash it.” She sat back on her heels, biting her lip with vexation. It was maddening to come so close only to give it up now, but the blasted bucklewas too thick—
Sophia went still as she studied the space, then she got down on her knees to get a closer look, one hand still on the door. It sat crookedly in its frame, as if it hadn’t been hung properly. She pressed her fingertips against the bottom edge of the door and slid them from one side to the other. The slit was just a touch wider at the end closest to the hinge, justwide enough to…
Yes!
She jammed the end of the buckle into the space beneath the door, then gave it a shove with the heel of her hand. The buckle slid forward a tiny bit more, just enough so it was securely wedged beneath the door.
Sophia scrambled to her feet, a wide grin on her lips. She took up her yoke, balanced it on her shoulders, and made her way to the other end of the mews, where she handed it back over to Polly, who’d been waiting in a shadowy corner of the stables, out of sight of Lord Everly’s door. The girl swung the yoke onto her own shoulders as if it were no heavier than a silk shawl, and disappeared down the street.
Well, that had been a tidy bit of work, hadn’t it? Sophia dusted off her hands, flushed and still grinning at her success, but her smile faded a little as her gaze landed on an upper window of Tristan’s townhouse, and the memories she’d been holding at bay since she sneaked out of his bed this morningswept over her.
As much as she might wish otherwise, it wasn’t the sort of night a lady could forget, any more thanhewas the sort of man she could easily set aside without asecond thought.
She shivered, remembering the hot press of his mouth on hers, his wicked tongue slipping between her lips, the rasp of his emerging beard scraping against the tender skin of her face and neck, her throat…
No. Nothing good would come of daydreaming about Tristan—that is,Lord Gray. She must remember to think of him as Lord Gray from now on, or better yet, not to think of him at all. It was the reason she’d left him this morning, even as everything inside her had longed to stay, to brush his dark hair back from his forehead and wait for those remarkable gray eyes to open.
Dash it. Sophia squeezed her eyes closed, clenching her hands into fists. She had to find a way to exorcize him, just as the Catholics priests had done centuries ago to rid themselves of their demons. Tristan might be a handsome, tempting demon, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be banished. That was why she’d left his bed this morning, never to return again—
“No rooftops today, Miss Monmouth?” A hard arm snaked around Sophia’s waist, and she was pulled roughly against a warm, muscular chest. “I can’t say I think the mews your most inspiredhiding place.”
Sophia let out a squeak of surprise, and might have followed it with an elbow to her captor’s ribs and a foot to his shin if she hadn’t known at once who he was.
“What are you doing, sneaking about Lord Everly’s mews, hmmm?” Tristan’s low chuckle stirred the hair at her temple. “Shame on you, pixie. But then you make a habit of sneaking about, don’t you? Sneaking from my bed, sneaking into my kitchen, sneaking about the mews in the dark.” He made a tsking noise, and his hot breath drifted over her ear. “You try my patience,Miss Monmouth.”
Sophia opened her mouth to answer, but she never got the chance. His arms tightened around her waist, and the next thing she knew the ground vanished beneath her feet, and a hard shoulder appeared out of nowhere under her belly.
It took her a moment to realize what had happened, but once she did, she began to kick and squirm to free herself. “Tristan! Have you gone mad? This isn’t necessary—”
“You wouldn’t think so, would you? Yet here we are.” He tightened his arm around the backs of her thighs to still her.“Stop kicking.”
“You’re going to drop me!” Sophia clutched handfuls of the back of his shirt in her fists tosteady herself.
“I won’t if you stop wriggling. It’s not as if you’re heavy. I’ve carried walking sticks that weigh more than you do.”
Despite herself, Sophia laughed. “What nonsense. I’m much heavier than a walking stick, especially the hollow ones without the figured gold or silver nobs—”
“The hollow sticks are more properly called canes, but I’m not interested in discussing either canes or walking sticks at the moment,Miss Monmouth.”
It occurred to Sophia this might be one of those times when it was wiser to keep her mouth closed, but by then it was too late. “Well, what are you interestedin, Lord Gray?”
Tristan hitched her higher on his shoulder. “Milkmaids.”
Sophia huffed out a breath. “Oh, for pity’s sake. This is absurd. I must insist you put me down this instant, my lord.”
“No. I don’t think I will.” He was striding across the mews toward his townhouse. “Last time I let go of you I didn’t care for the result. I wasn’t pleased to find myself alone in my bedthis morning.”
His tone was grim. He was certainly angry with her, but there was an underlying thread of something else in his voice that made her hesitate.
A hint of confusionand…dejection?
