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He looked to his left. Sophia was on the edge of her seat, the biggest, prettiest smile on her face, her hands steepled under her chin. A mix of emotions, far greater than any the actors could muster, weaved together in his chest—fascination, annoyance, even a bit of jealousy. He doubted he had ever felt such enthusiasm for anything in his entire life; he had had no time for leisurely pursuits.

“You realize this isn’t real, right?” he whispered to her.

“What?” she turned, confused.

“This isn’t real. It’s not even historical.”

Sophia sighed in his face. “Hasn’t it?”

“No, of course it hasn’t.”

She gestured to the stage. “Two families locked in a lengthy feud, so volatile and bloody that even the citizens of Verona aresick and tired of it? Why else do you think they are shouting, ‘Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues!’ Everyone is weary of it.”

He blinked in surprise. “I thought you said you had never seen this.”

“I took your advice and read it,” she retorted.

“Yes, well, it’s… childish.”

She sniffed. “The feud or the performance?”

“Thetheateris for children and those with nothing better to do,” he replied, needing to regain his pragmatic position.

“Yes.” Sophia nodded sarcastically. “That is why the entire theater is filled to the brim with children. Obviously.”

Thomas looked around. The theater was indeed filled to the brim… with other local nobles, minor but not insignificant. There was not a single child among them, and most were as rapt as Sophia had been a moment ago. The theater was one of the finest outside of London, and with the majority of families at their country seats for the summer, it made sense that the theater was more popular than it otherwise might have been.

But no… they must be doing it because they are socially obligated, aren’t they? Are they… Could I be the wrong one here?

His thoughts felt muddled. No one liked being wrong, but he also didn’t like people who could never admit they were wrong.

“You don’t do anything for the amusement of it, do you?” Sophia challenged, staring at him strangely.

“What does that mean?”

“You know… to pass the time?”

“Why would I need to do that? Time passes by itself.”

“Oh, you know what I mean… things you do for entertainment, for leisure, to fill the day!” A sharp look from another couple in the adjacent box quietened her, and she offered them an apologetic look.

Thomas nodded with a self-satisfied smirk, the one that he knew annoyed her. “Now that explains everything.”

“What? What does it explain?”

“What you don’t seem to understand, Sophia, is that the life of a duke—or, indeed, a duchess—is not one of leisure and idle merriment and wasted time. I am constantly busy.”

“Constantly?” She turned more of her body towards him. “Every waking hour and every waking minute and every waking second?”

“Without exception.”

Thomas had expected to see a look of admiration on her face, a look that would say,I can’t believe you work so hard—what a marvel you are.

But instead… there was a sad look. A pitying look.

Does she… does she feel sorry for me?

In all of his years, in all of his endeavors, successes and failures, he had never seen someone look at him like that. Most people feared him. A lot of people hated him. Only a handful of people actually cared about him. But no one,no onehadeverfelt sorry for him.