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She shrugged again. She’d simply treated the child with respect and firmness, both of which the girl was surely lacking. But that was neither here nor there. “Most women learn to manage men at an early age,” she laughed. “It appears as though your daughter has not.”
“Not until today.”
“I was happy to help.” Sophia held up the wrapped square of candy. “And these are my favorite,” she admitted, unable to keep from smiling at him.
The little girl tugged at her father’s sleeve. “Can we go home now, Papa?”
The duke pulled his w
atch fob from his pocket and flipped it open. “Actually, I do have some things to attend to,” he said apologetically as he touched the top of his daughter’s head. “Tell Miss Thorne good-bye and thank you,” he instructed her.
Instead of dropping into a curtsy, the girl locked her arms around Sophia’s waist and squeezed. Sophia was almost too surprised to return the embrace.
“Perhaps I’ll see you again another day,” she said to the little blonde.
“I can only hope,” the duke said quietly, his gaze meeting hers only briefly before he turned away, took his daughter’s hand, and started down the lane that led to the entrance of the park.
Sophia took a moment to catch her breath. It wouldn’t do for her to swoon in the middle of the park. Not at a mere suggestion from the dangerous Duke of Robinsworth. The man was a walking scandal. A walking scandal that made her pulse pound so loudly she could hear it.
“Well, that went better than I expected, dear,” her grandmother said as she stepped into her line of sight.
“Better than I thought,” Sophia lamented.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to feign the mannerisms of the British ton. But you did fairly well.”
She certainly still had a lot to learn about this world. The land of the fae might look similar, but none of its magic was present in this world. Here, people wore full clothing, and not a single one of them had wings or pointy ears the way she did. Just willing her own wings away was difficult and not something she usually had to concentrate so hard to do.
“He seemed discontent about my lack of a chaperone,” Sophia said. “Do you think I need one, to look like one of them?”
“Perhaps we should have Margaret shadow you a little more,” her grandmother suggested.
Sophia moaned. The idea of Margaret watching everything she did made her nervous. The house faerie didn’t like this world or anything about it, including its people. The maid wouldn’t say why, but she had a feeling it had something to do with Sophia’s mother. “I need to learn to walk like them.”
“Stiffly and unyielding?” her grandmother said with a laugh. In their world, comfort reigned. Clothing was serviceable. There were no layers worn simply for show. In order to fit through keyholes and slide under doors, one must be appropriately attired.
“Maybe I should have saved this mission for Claire after all.” Indecision rose within her. No. She could do this. She could help the Duke of Robinsworth’s daughter.
“You must learn to use your senses, your mind, and your heart more than your magic. You can do it, Sophia. I wouldn’t have allowed you to come if I didn’t believe it.”
“Oh, come now,” Sophia cajoled. “You wanted an opportunity to come through the portal, to see the fish.”
“I’d love to know their crimes. Knowing they were once fae scares me a little.” Her grandmother shivered lightly.
“They seemed amiable enough.”
“Only because you had something they wanted to trade for passage. Otherwise, we’d still be at home waiting for the night of the full moon.”
The fish that guarded the portal were granted a reprieve on the night of the moonful, the night the midnight wind swirled, carrying passengers from the fae world to this one. Any other night, wary travelers must trade something of value to get past the fish and away from the land of the fae.
“This mission is very unlike my others,” Sophia said, more to herself than to her grandmother.
“Most missions don’t include a handsome duke.” She grinned. “A duke who makes one’s heart go pitter-patter.” For some reason, her grandmother’s mild, cherubic smile sent fear skittering up Sophia’s spine, making her wonder what devious plot was hiding behind her grandmother’s innocent facade.
***
Ashley stepped through the front door of his home to find his butler, Wilkins, standing at attention in the entryway. The regal, spry old servant rushed forward to take his hat and coat.
“Any news for me, Wilkins?” Ashley asked absently as he shrugged out of his jacket, took the correspondence the butler placed in his hands, and sorted through the stack of notes quickly.
