“Any chance we might leave with two?” The words were punctuated by the happy bell above the door, and then King was inside the bakery, and Sophie knew that something could, in fact, make matters worse. The Marquess of Eversley, all smiles, playing smug, arrogant witness to her uncertainty. Jane’s eyes widened and her mouth turned into a perfect O. Sophie could not blame her, as King seemed to overtake every space he entered—taprooms, bedchambers, carriages. Why not bakeries? “We don’t need two,” Sophie said. “Of course we do, darling.” The darling attracted her attention. And Jane’s. And
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