Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] Read Online Free PDF Page B

suffered the worst humiliation Julian Rexley could ever heap upon her. Having him laugh at her misfortune would be a minuscule embarrassment in comparison.
    She had said other things to him as well, things that made her both anxious and giddy with power. She had told him that perhaps he should ask himself why Letitia sought to escape him. Even better, she had told him she didn't want him in her house! She hadn't been able to stop herself. No doubt Edmund would be rolling over in his grave to hear her talk in such a hoydenish manner, but Edmund was dead and couldn't hear a word she said.
    Still, as good as it had felt to speak to Julian in such a frank manner, there was that little niggling of guilt in the back of her mind— a little voice telling her she should behave in a more ladylike and genteel manner. It was Edmund's voice. He might not be able to hear her , but she was certainly able to hear him , even from beyond the grave.
    Drawing her shawl around her shoulders, Sophia strode across the hall to a door that led to the kitchen. Faint, yet warm and appetizing, the smells from that area of the house greeted her as she closed the door behind her. Charles may deny her everything that would make it possible for her to reenter society, but he did not deny her food. He most likely thought that would make her feel some kind of gratitude toward him.
    Charles wanted her. He made that perfectly clear, but not for a wife. She was, after all, his brother's widow, and even if such a thing were done, it still wouldn't be what Charles had in mind. He took everything he could from her in the hope that she would eventually capitulate and give him what he wanted— her body.
    He gave her enough money to maintain her household— he had to. Charles might be in charge of her funds, but so were Edmund's former solicitors. According to one of the many stipulations in Edmund's will, Sophia was to be given enough money to live comfortably. Charles couldn't cut her off completely lest he violate the will, but he could argue that while Sophia was virtually a prisoner in her own home, she was a "comfortable" one.
    There were other stipulations in the will that Charles sought to manipulate in his favor, but since they hinged on Sophia's public conduct, they were useless. She never went out in public, so there was little chance of her breaking them. Still, she was careful around her brother-in-law. He was trying to trap her into becoming his mistress or swindle her out of her allowance— possibly even both. She would not allow him to win.
    Lately, Sophia had begun to wonder if Charles wasn't growing impatient. She feared that he was done waiting, that he was going to use force to get what he wanted, and as loyal as Sophia's servants were, they worked for Charles first. She could not count on them to come to her aid if he assaulted her.
    What would Lord Wolfram think of that? Would he think she deserved to be used in such a way? Probably. And yet here she was, going to the kitchen to have tea made for him. She had made him sit near the fire so his clothing would dry and he wouldn't catch cold.
    She wanted him out of her house. It was that simple. If he got sick he would have to stay, and she couldn't trust herself not to do everything she could to increase his suffering. That was a lie. She would probably nurse him back to health herself, she was that much of an idiot.
    "It smells wonderful in here," she announced with false cheer as she stepped into the kitchen.
    The cook smiled at her over her shoulder from her spot by the stove. "Thank you, m'lady. 'Tis lamb for supper. I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of changing the menu as it looks like the earl will be staying."
    "Oh?" Sophia tried to keep the panic from her voice. She glanced at Mrs. Ellis, who sat at the rough-hewn table sipping a cup of tea. "Have you had word from his men?"
    The round-faced housekeeper nodded as she set her empty cup on the saucer. "Yes, my lady. Roger took a