No Groom at the Inn: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novella by Megan Frampton Read Free Book Online

was in the fall or spring. A snow in London quickly turned to slush, the only remnants of the real thing lingering on the trees for a day or two after. Until that, inevitably, melted to join the slush on the streets and the sidewalks.
    “What did you want to speak to me about?” His voice was quiet, as though he was reluctant to break the silence.
    “I don’t even know.” Well, she did, but she didn’t want to ruin the stillness. “Or I do, but it seems so silly, given what we’re doing.”
    “Let me guess—the hieroglyphics?” His words sounded amused again. What must it be like to walk around continually amused? She wished she knew. Then again, if she did know, she would likely be insane, and she did not wish for that.
    “Yes. That. You could have warned me.”
    “And missed the look of surprise and outrage on your face? You are very expressive, Sophy.”
    “Sophronia,” she corrected.
    He leaned into her, and she felt the warmth of him, his solid shape at her side. It would be so easy to lean into him as well, to take this moment for what it was, to relish, perhaps the only instance—depending on what her future held—to spend time and flirt with a handsome gentleman who was just what he said he was.
    Which was a man entirely determined to remain unencumbered by a woman, who was so desperate to avoid said entanglements that he would go so far as to fake a betrothal, to run the risk of having his much beloved mother find out that he was lying, in outrageous fashion, to her.
    To be known as the kind of man who would do such a thing in order to avoid walking down the aisle.
    So perhaps she would not lean back.
    “It is my turn to thank you,” he said, startling her.
    “Why?” Because I have just vowed to stay immune to your charms? Good luck with that, Sophronia, she thought to herself.
    “Because if you were not here, if I was forced to face this situation on my own, it would be far more dreadful, even without adding in the possibility that I would find myself engaged to a woman I did not want at the end of the holiday.” He paused as Sophronia was parsing out what he was saying. “That is likely why I chanced discovery.” He shrugged, as though embarrassed. “It isn’t something I seem to be able to help. If there is a worse thing than being stagnant, than being immobilized by one’s life circumstances, I don’t know it.”
    “Hence the traveling,” Sophronia replied. She was starting to feel the cold, and felt herself shiver.
    “Here.” He must have felt it, too, which wouldn’t be surprising, given their arms were touching and she could almost swear she felt his hand hovering somewhere behind her, not quite on her body but not quite not on it, either. “You can wear my jacket. I just wish to stay out here a little longer.” He removed his jacket before she could protest, then draped it around her shoulders, tucking it in at her waist with a frown of concentration drawing his eyebrows together.
    The jacket was warm from his body, and was redolent of his scent, a mix of soap and something that smelled spicy and faintly exotic.
    Of course, faintly exotic to Sophronia was anywhere outside London, so perhaps his cologne or whatever it was came from York or Devon or something.
    “I don’t know when it first began, but I just remember having to sit still while being given some lesson or another, and feeling as though I wanted to burst out of my skin.” He stared up at the sky, his breath showing visibly in the cold air. “My father used to talk about how much he wished he could just escape, but he had us, and my mother is not a good traveler.” He shrugged, as though it didn’t matter, when Sophronia could tell it absolutely did. “I don’t think it’s fair to ask someone to live a life they don’t want to live.” His voice sounded almost lost. As though it was the young Jamie speaking, not the adult one standing beside her. “If I could move all the time, I think I would.