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“Did you not tell me you wanted me to attend your party?”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t think you would do it.”
Ashley nodded slowly. “I think I understand.”
“And what is your relationship with that girl?” his mother spit out. Sophia bristled.
“That girl? You’ll need to be more specific.”
It was all Sophia could do not to rush from the dressing room and point her finger in the duchess’s face. How dare she call her “that girl”?
“Sophia Thorne,” his mother said with a roll of her eyes. “You barely took your eyes off her all night.”
“You invited her.”
“I invited her grandmother. The girl came with her.” She waved a breezy hand of dismissal in the air.
“We should discuss this another time, Mother.” Ashley glanced toward the door. He obviously didn’t want Sophia’s feelings to get hurt. But it was very nearly too late.
“She’s a nice girl. From a quiet family.”
“What do you know of her?” Evidently, he was curious. Too curious to pass up the opportunity.
“I know you spent the night watching her,” his mother snapped. “You mustn’t be so obvious, Robin.”
“What was I obvious about, Mother?”
The duchess sniffed loudly. It wasn’t a snort. But close. Duchesses didn’t snort, did they?
“You want her. It’s easy to see.”
“Weren’t you just telling me that I needed to find a mistress?” Ashley asked with a laugh. “Which is it, Mother? You can’t have it both ways.”
A mistress! Over Sophia’s dead body. That was her initial reaction. Then her heart twisted within her chest when she realized that her mission would soon be over. She wouldn’t be able to fault him if he did turn to a strange woman when she was gone. Or now, for that matter. She was nothing to him. She couldn’t be anything to him. Not at all.
His mother didn’t answer the question.
“Are we done, Mother?” he asked with a heavy sigh.
“Hardly,” the duchess said.
“Then please finish it so I can go to bed.” He rubbed at his weary eyes. He did look tired.
“Do you intend to frequent the rest of the party?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“If you do, please don’t make reference to homicide, the dead, or… parts!”
He smiled. “I shall just think them to myself, then.” He chuckled. “And it wasn’t me who brought up parts. You all were discussing that before I arrived.”
“Your grandmother is incorrigible,” she grunted. But then she did smile at him.
“Are we done yet?”
“I assume we are,” she said as she bustled toward the door.
“So, no discussion of homicide, dangly parts, or the dead. I think I can do that.” He appeared to mull it over. “But can the rest of your guests?”
