The afternoon light in the library of Blackwood House had begun to fade when the small oilskin-wrapped packet was finally laid on the long oak table. Sophia's stomach had been rumbling for hours. She had only managed a quick cup of tea and a dry biscuit early that morning before wandering the echoing corridors. Hunger made her head ache and her temper thinner than usual.
The Duke looked equally worn. He had washed and changed into fresh clothes after rising, but he had skipped any proper breakfast, his broad shoulders tense beneath his black coat as he broke the plain wax seal with a sharp flick of his letter knife.Mr. Elias Hawthorne leaned forward, his golden-brown hair catching the light and his warm hazel eyes curious behind his spectacles.
Beside him sat Lady Amelia Voss, a sharp-witted distant cousin of the Duke who had arrived unexpectedly an hour earlier. She was a widow in her late twenties with striking auburn hair pinned elegantly and keen green eyes that missed nothing. She had insisted on joining them "for the sake of propriety,"The packet contained nothing dramatic just two additional sheets of cipher symbols and a short, unsigned note suggesting cross-references with old diplomatic ledgers. No threats. No revelations. Only more tedious work.
The Duke's grey eyes, sharp beneath the faint scar on his left eyebrow, scanned the pages with growing irritation. "More fragments," he said coldly, sliding them across the table. "Your father's so-called confidant has a talent for wasting time."Sophia picked up one sheet, her long wavy brown hair falling forward as she studied the looping symbols. Her wide blue eyes narrowed. "This marking matches the one on the ring's inner band. It could represent a layered alliance like I mentioned earlier ","Enough," the Duke cut in, his voice low and edged like a blade. He leaned forward, tall frame casting a shadow over the table. "You speak as though this were a parlor game, Miss Langford. Your suggestions are naive and slow us down. I, perhaps you should return to your room and leave the serious work to those who understand its weight and don't make me repeat my words ."Sophia's fingers tightened on the paper. A hot surge of hatred rose in her chest, sharp and unfamiliar. his constant dismissal the same cold disdain he had shown at the ball .
Lady Amelia raised an elegant eyebrow, her green eyes glinting with amusement as she sipped from a teacup a servant had brought. "My, my. The air grows rather thick in here."Mr. Hawthorne cleared his throat gently, trying to ease the tension. "Perhaps we should pause for a proper meal. The kitchens sent up a cold luncheon fresh bread, cheese, cold meats, and fruit. We will think more clearly with full stomachs." And just like that the tension drastically cools down after Mr Hawthorne magical words.
They ate in strained silence at the table. Sophia forced herself to take bites of the crusty bread and sharp cheese, though her appetite was dulled by anger. The Duke ate mechanically, his strong jaw working with efficient. Lady Amelia picked delicately at her food, watching the exchange with open curiosity, while Mr. Hawthorne attempted light conversation about ancient manuscripts, his warm voice a brief buffer.After the meal, they returned to the cipher. The new symbols added only minor layers, no breakthroughs.
The Misunderstanding between Sophia and the Duke simmered hotter with every passing hour."You hold the pen like it personally offends you," the Duke muttered at one point, his grey eyes cold. "If you cannot focus, Miss Langford, retire and leave the real work to Hawthorne and me."Sophia's wide blue eyes flashed with quiet fury. "And perhaps you should stop treating me as if I ruin your precious solitude simply by existing. I hate how easily you dismiss me, Your Grace. Truly."Lady Amelia leaned back with a small smile. "Such passion. One might almost think you two enjoy sharpening your claws on each other."
The Duke's jaw tightened visibly, resentment burning in his gaze. He hated her defiance, the way her quiet stubbornness chipped at the control he valued above all else. He hated how the memory of holding her the night before now felt like a weakness he could not scrub away, no matter how many times he told himself it had been a mistake born of smoke and fear.As evening approached, servants prepared baths in their respective rooms , hot water scented soap with lavender for Sophia. Sophia soaked for a long time in the copper tub, letting the heat ease the ache in her muscles and the tension in her shoulders, though it did nothing to cool the growing dislike in her heart.
Later, a simple supper was served in the small dining room: roasted chicken, buttered vegetables, warm bread, and wine. They ate with strained politeness, the hatred lingering in every short reply and sharp glance. Lady Amelia kept the conversation flowing with witty remarks, while Mr. Hawthorne remained quietly attentive, his hazel eyes occasionally resting on Sophia with gentle interest .
The Duke retired to his chambers after the meal, his tall frame oozing sexiness. Sophia returned to her room, the silver ring hidden once more against her skin. The packet had brought no great danger or revelation only more tedious symbols and another day of forced proximity that deepened the rift between her and the Duke.Yet as she lay in bed that night, exhausted from the bath, the food, and the constant tension,
The Duke was impossible. Cold. Arrogant. And she was beginning to despise him with a quiet intensity that promised many more difficult days ahead.
Mr. Hawthorne, in the guest wing, sat with his books, his thoughts occasionally drifting to the resilient young woman with the wide blue eyes.Lady Amelia, meanwhile, retired with a knowing smile, already wondering how long it would take for the sparks between her cousin and the quiet Miss Langford to ignite into something far more dangerous.