Chapter Ten

 

Sophia had no idea how long Jack had been gone but her nerves knotted in anticipation of his return. She climbed out of the creek and twisted her hair to ring the water out of it. Two more days. She smiled when she thought about it.

She would enjoy two more heavenly days with him before she had to face the world as a man’s mistress. Surely there would be scandal. She would be the subject of gossip for the entire season or until some other controversy occurred to catch the ton’s attention but secluded in an apartment or traveling abroad, it wouldn’t matter.

Sophia only hoped Jack’s marriage to Lady Hilda would not crush her. Knowing he would be sharing the bed of another woman—even if only to produce heirs—broke Sophia’s heart.

After retrieving her chemise from the branch of a tree, she slipped it over her head.

“Well, well,” a voice startled her. “If it isn’t Lord Stafford’s whore.”

Sophia froze as her gaze collided with Lord Wisbech’s. Incredulous, she blinked but he was still there. “Where’s…where’s Jack?” she asked.

Dressed in black, Lord Wisbech appeared sinister. Sophia tensed as he started toward her. “Jack?” he asked and a rueful smile stretched his thin lips. “Jack is dead, my dear.”

Sophia trembled. She gaped. “D-dead?” she asked but her mind refused to accept it. “Where is he? Where?” Her voice rose hysterically.

Ralph smirked. “Lying on Hounslow Road with a bullet through his chest. Cut down by a highwayman.”

Realization stunned her. “You killed him. You…you bastard!” Anger engulfed her like an inferno. Her first reaction was to fly at him, fists flailing but somehow she resisted the urge. The pistol. Jack’s pistol was inside on the bedside table. He’d left it to keep her safe and he’d died because he’d been more interested in protecting her than himself. Guilt seethed, vying to override her rage.

Lord Wisbech advanced. Murder and revenge flashed in his eyes. He would kill her, too. Sophia did not doubt it. Lunging, she raced toward the lodge but Ralph followed on her heels, subduing her easily.

Heart thundering, she kicked and flailed at him. She flinched when her nails raked down his heavily powdered face. “You bitch!” he railed and slapped her so hard with the back of his hand that she sprawled to the ground.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and she spat as she scrambled to regain her feet. His hand knotted in her hair and he yanked hard, dragging her back toward the creek.

Sophia struggled, clawing at his hands, scrabbling on the ground as she tried to gain some semblance of footing but all to no avail. The scream that tore from her throat died as he hauled her into the creek and pushed her head under the water.

Panic surged as she fought to hold her breath. Just when her thoughts began to dim, he pulled her above water. She gasped and sputtered.

“I told you I would kill you if you embarrassed me again,” he said and plunged her back under the water.

Sophia did not doubt that she would die this day. Part of her welcomed it. She could not go on without Jack.

An eerie calm descended over her and there was only the water rushing around her ears and the sound of her last breath bubbling out of her lungs. Acceptance that she was about to die inundated her and without warning, Ralph wrenched her back to the surface. “That should take the fight out of you,” he said. Confusion muddled her brain as he heaved her back toward the bank.

Coughing up water, she was no match for his masculine strength as he lifted her and shouldered her back to the lodge. Why hadn’t he just let her drown? Why?

His hand squeezed her backside and Sophia suddenly knew why he hadn’t killed her. He intended to rape her!

Summoning all the strength she had left, she pummeled his back with her fists and kicked her feet but it was too late.

With a laugh, he flung her onto the bed. Careful not to glance in the direction of the pistol lest Ralph see it and take it from her, she propped on her elbows and burned at stare into him. Loathing consumed her.

“You’re vile,” she told him.

He tore the fall of his breeches down and Sophia’s gaze dropped to where his cock reared from a nest of white-blonde curls. She inched backward but he seized her ankle and dragged her back down. He grasped at her free foot but she wrenched free and jammed her heel into his face. Her eyes widened when she heard his nose crunch.

Wailing, he took two faltering steps backward, covering his bleeding nose with his hands. “You bloody wretch!” he bellowed but as he charged for her again, she scuttled backward, groping for the pistol.

With a coolness she had no idea she possessed, she aimed the weapon, pulled back the hammer and squeezed the trigger. The pistol discharged with an earsplitting blast. Acrid smoke filled the air. Lord Wisbech’s eyes rounded as his hand went to his chest. Stunned, Sophia watched as the life drained out of his face and he wilted to the floor with a thud.

Shaking and gasping for breath, she scrambled to the edge of the bed, ready to beat him with the butt of the pistol if he wasn’t already dead. His eyes stared, fixed on nothing.

A sob racked her shoulders. “Jack,” she murmured under her breath.

“Sophia!”

Her heart skipped a beat. She whirled to discover Jack, his hand over his chest. Blood oozed between his fingers. “Sophia,” he gasped and collapsed in the threshold.

“Jack!” she cried and darted to his side.

“Wisbech …”

“He’s dead,” she said, trying to examine Jack’s wound.

His skin was so pale, Sophia feared the worst. She knew nothing about dressing an injury. Her joy at seeing Jack alive quickly turned to cold terror. “What do I do?” she asked.

“I need a…a physician. Leave me here and go to Amberley—” he said but Sophia interrupted.

“I won’t leave you. Can you ride at all?”

“Armageddon’s been shot, too.” Jack coughed and Sophia blanched at the sight of blood on his lips.

She had to make a decision and she had to do it fast. Her gaze flew to the horse and then back to Jack. “I’ll walk if I have to but I’m not leaving you here,” she argued.

Instinctively, she snatched the sheet off the bed and tore the edge of it with her teeth so she could rip it into strips. Hands trembling, she quickly used the remnants to staunch Jack’s bleeding. He groaned when she pressed hard against the wound. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quavering.

His skin had grown icy. “You’re going to be fine,” she said as she worked to secure the makeshift dressing. “I’ll get you home.”

He didn’t fight her as she scooped her arm under his shoulders and coaxed him to stand. With difficulty, he leaned against her and allowed her to help him back to his horse.

Armageddon nickered in protest as Jack hefted himself into the saddle. He slumped down on the horse’s neck, clinging to the animal’s coarse black mane. Sophia rushed into the house and returned with a blanket. After throwing it over Jack, she climbed into the saddle behind him and took the reins, saying a silent prayer the horse was strong enough to make the trek back to Amberley.

Sophia didn’t care that she wore nothing more than her chemise. Her only concern was Jack. Unmoving, he lay lifeless across the horse’s thick neck. Fearing the worst, she kept her hand on his back to make certain he was breathing. A lump welled in her throat but she refused to give in to tears. Not now. If Jack was going to die, she didn’t want the last thing he heard on this earth to be her sobs.

“Jack?” she asked as the horse finally stepped out of the woods and onto the road leading to Jack’s estate.

He grunted.

“We’re almost there, darling. I promise I will see you safely home,” she promised.

He muttered something she could not discern and she didn’t have the heart to ask him to repeat it. At least he was conscious enough to make a sound.

Armageddon stumbled and Sophia’s heart skipped a beat. “Don’t stop now, horse.” She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath until the horse trudged on. Her heart twisted for the stalwart animal but she didn’t have any other choice than to urge him forward.

Jack’s shoulders slipped and Sophia quickly righted him, sighing her relief when he moaned. “Don’t leave me, Jack,” she whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”

This was all her fault. If only she’d married Lord Wisbech as she should have done, none of this would ever have happened. She should have been patient enough to produce heirs for Lord Wisbech and then she could have done whatever she wanted with Jack.

Foam began to ooze from Armageddon’s mouth. No, no! Don’t die now, horse. Please, it’s just a bit farther.

She searched the area for a horse, for a carriage for anyone. Where was everyone? Why was there no one else on the road? No one who could help? As it was, she couldn’t push Armageddon any faster but she could lighten his load.

She slid out of the saddle and taking the reins encouraged the horse to follow her as she picked her way barefoot over the gravely, muddy road.

The thick woods thinned and up ahead, Amberley loomed like a shining beacon in the afternoon sunlight. “We’re almost there!” Sophia cried, glancing back at Jack.

He lay motionless across the horse’s back. Terrified, she quickened her pace. “Come on, horse. Faster.”

Tugging the reins, she half dragged the wounded beast toward the gates at Amberley. She debated running ahead and leaving the straggling animal to proceed as he could but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Jack.

At the gate, the horse finally collapsed. Sophia cried out as Armageddon drew his last breath. Jack landed with a grunt on the ground next to the mortally wounded animal.

“Get Hobbes,” Jack croaked.

Dragging up the wet hem of her chemise, Sophia flew toward the manor as fast as her feet would carry her.

A bevy of servants met her halfway up the drive. “Hobbes,” she gasped breathlessly. “I need Hobbes. Lord Stafford is injured.”

But already, several men were running out to collect their master. Exhausted, Sophia stared after them and just as she started to go to them, a coat encircled her shoulders. “Come inside, my lady.”

Her gaze clashed with Hobbes’. “But—”

“The others will bring his lordship. Come inside and let one of the maids see to you,” he said calmly.

Only then did Sophia look down at her soiled and tattered thin chemise and her bruised and cut feet. Pain she hadn’t allowed herself to feel earlier seemed to soak through her skin straight to her bones.

“Come inside, my lady,” Hobbes said, gently coaxing her with his arm around her shoulders.

Half-dazed, she let her gaze wander to where the men were already lifting Jack. A rider blazed down the drive.

“See, Martin is going for the physician,” Hobbes said. “Come inside where we can care for you.”

Fighting off the darkness threatening to render her unconscious, Sophia nodded and allowed Hobbes to escort her toward the door. It was only then that she noticed the coach and six in front of the house, a grand conveyance drawn by six magnificent white horses—a coach fit for a queen.

Or, rather, a countess.

Sophia faltered. “Is she—”

“Lady Hilda only just arrived,” Hobbes said.

Sophia stubbed her toe on the steps leading up to the entry. Hobbes righted her and she stumbled into the house alongside him. The last thing she saw before she mercifully lost consciousness was the most angelic, beautiful, blonde woman she’d ever seen in her life.

* * * * *

Slowly, Sophia became aware of silky smooth sheets and the soft, warm mattress. She felt as if she were awakening from a long, deep sleep and then suddenly, everything washed back over her in a heart wrenching torrent.

Gasping, she bolted upright in the bed. A young servant girl tried to entice her to lie back down on the pillows. “Be still, my lady.”

Sophia resisted. “Where am I?” she asked, blinking as she took in the lush bed chamber.

“Amberley.”

Sophia’s gaze collided with the girl’s. “Jack…”

The servant pursed her lips.

Sophia clutched her arms. “Tell me he lives,” she said desperately.

Something dark and bleak lurked in the girl’s eyes. “The fever is on him.”

“Fever…”

“Yes, ma’am. The doctor fears the worst.”

Sophia fell back on the pillows. “This is all my fault,” she muttered.

“Ma’am, you should rest. You’ve been through quite an ordeal yourself. Your feet were cut to shreds and your face…”

Instinctively, Sophia touched her jaw, recalling how Wisbech had sent her reeling. She winced at the shock of pain.

“It’s terribly bruised, ma’am,” the servant said.

Realizing she was clad in night clothes, Sophia looked about for a dressing gown. “I must go to him.”

The servant’s eyes widened. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, ma’am.”

“Can’t?” Sophia asked. “What do you mean, can’t?”

The girl cast her eyes down. “His betrothed is with him.”

Sick realization plummeted to Sophia’s stomach. The woman she had seen in the foyer had been Jack’s fiancée—the German countess. Tears filled Sophia’s eyes and she twisted away so the servant wouldn’t see her crying. “Would you please see how he is doing?” Sophia asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the girl said and slipped out of the room.

Sophia buried her face in her pillow and shook with sobs. Wisbech had tried to murder her. He’d tried to kill Jack and might yet succeed in doing so. And poor Armageddon…

Aside from the thought of losing Jack, nothing had ever caused her so much heartache as the knowledge she had no right to be by his side when he might be dying. Why were women willing to give up so much for love while men lived their lives freely?

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. Sophia heard herself say as much aloud. Her heart ached for Jack. He was somewhere in this house, languishing injured in a bed, hurting…wondering…

He was so close and still, so far from her reach.

“Sophia?” a strangely accented voice called.

Sophia lifted her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Mortified, she found herself eye to eye with the countess. Instinctively, Sophia drew the covers higher as if she could hide herself from Jack’s angelic bride to be. “Your Grace,” she greeted in a tremulous voice.

“You are feeling better?” the countess asked.

Sophia tried to push herself up to sit but lost her resolve. “A little.”

Every muscle and nerve in her body felt as if it would snap with tension. She had not expected to ever, ever be confronted by the countess. What was worse, Sophia could not tear her eyes from the woman. She’d never seen hair such a pale blonde before. And the countess’s eyes shone as deep blue as an October sky. Her lightly powdered skin was absolutely flawless. Every movement she made attested to her aristocratic blood and upbringing.

“How is…how is…he?” Sophia asked unable to utter Jack’s name to this woman. Somehow, it seemed far too intimate, too presumptuous.

The countess’s eyes darkened and her copious bosom rose and fell with a deep breath. “He is…delirious.”

Sophia’s lips parted. Despite her swimming head and feeble arms, she pushed herself up.

The countess averted her eyes momentarily before their gazes connected once more. “He calls for you…incessantly.”

Sophia didn’t dare to hope. Her breathing quickened.

“I fear he will die,” the countess said. “Will you go to him?”

Without hesitation, Sophia threw back the covers. “I need a robe,” she said.

She could scarcely believe a countess was acting as her handmaiden as the beautiful blonde retrieved a dressing gown and rushed to Sophia’s side to help her don it. Her knees shook as she tried to stand. Blackness threatened her vision but Sophia refused to give in.

“I will help you,” the countess said, hooking an arm around Sophia’s waist.

Sophia was too stunned, sore and shaky to take in the easy opulence that was Amberley as she leaned heavily on the countess. Luckily, it wasn’t far to Jack’s bed chamber. She feared she would collapse if she had to walk much farther.

She was hardly prepared for the sight of Jack lying motionless in the center of his monstrous bed. A tired-looking physician passed his bloodletting tools to a waiting servant. He eyed Sophia before going back to the task of binding Jack’s wrist. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“Lord Stafford asks for her,” the countess said adamantly.

Hobbes stood near the wall, his face wan and drawn.

Sophia shook as she neared the bed.

“Send for the vicar,” the physician told Hobbes.

Jack was dying? Sophia refused to believe it. She climbed onto the side of the bed and clasped his cold hand in hers. “Jack?”

She swallowed thickly. “Jack?”

“He’s been unresponsive for two days,” the doctor said blandly. “I suggest you make your peace with him.”

Sophia tenderly brushed Jack’s dark hair back from his forehead. “Darling, I’m here,” she whispered, shutting everything and everyone else out of her thoughts. “I’m with you. I won’t leave you.”

His hand tightened on hers but she didn’t want to hope. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him—not because of her own selfishness. If only she’d been strong enough to forego love and marry Lord Wisbech …

“Sophia…” he breathed her name.

Tears poured down her cheeks. “Don’t leave me, love. Stay here with me. I…I love you, Jack. Please be strong.”

He heaved a deep breath and a cough rattled in his chest—but his hand still clutched hers with an iron grip.

* * * * *

Jack opened his eyes. The room was dark except for a single beeswax candle on the bedside table. The wick had grown long and was in need of trimming. The last few days were a blur. All he could recall was terrible pain in his chest, an excruciating cough, shivering with fevered chills and a soft voice urging him to be strong.

Vaguely he recalled that a blonde goddess had been in the room—his fiancée, Lady Hilda. There had been talk of her arrival but he had not expected her this soon. Although she had been attentive, he had wanted Sophia.

As awareness seeped back, he realized warm fingers were entwined with his. He shifted and noticed the dark head on the bed beside him. Sophia? He brushed his palm over her hair and immediately, she lifted her head.

Her eyes widened dramatically and a slow smile claimed her lips. “Jack,” she whispered, pressing her palm to his forehead. “Your fever has broken.”

Even in the dim light, he could see the awful bruise on her cheek. “What did he do to you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

She cast her gaze down. “It doesn’t matter. He’s dead now.”

Jack’s heart lurched. “I wasn’t there for you. I’m so, so sorry, Sophia.”

She shook her head. “What happened was my fault. If only you hadn’t left your pistol. If only I’d…If only I’d married him…”

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he warned. “Do you hear me, Sophia? Don’t you ever utter those words again.”

“But you nearly died…because…because of me.” A tear coursed down her face, eerily highlighting the purplish bruise. Jack resisted the compulsion to brush it away, fearing touching her would hurt her.

“I would die for you,” he said, feeling a surge of something unexplainable cresting inside him.

She moved over him and softly pressed her lips to his. When her hand cupped his jaw so she could deepen the kiss ever so slightly, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.

Ignoring the dull aching in his chest, he held her as tightly as he could to kiss her thoroughly. Her tongue teased his lips tentatively and when he opened his mouth to her, she moaned and took her sweet fill of him. At that moment, he realized he could never marry Lady Hilda—not when he was hopelessly in love with Sophia.

His responsibility to his father’s wishes and title no longer mattered. If Lady Hilda brought a breach of promise suit against him, he would gladly hand over everything he owned.

But he would do anything, say anything—give up everything—to spend the rest of his life with Sophia by his side.

“Lord Stafford!”

Sophia quickly drew away at the sound of the physician’s voice. Her heart skittered with joy and love. Still dazed from his kiss, she stumbled when hands gripped her shoulders and swept her away so the physician could examine Jack.

“Someone awaken the countess,” another voice said.

And then Hobbes’ sleepy face loomed into Sophia’s view. “My Lady, you should step out.”

She stared, trying to tell herself it was all right, that Hobbes was correct. Obviously, Jack still intended to keep her as his mistress. He wouldn’t have kissed her so sweetly if he hadn’t. And yet…

The thought of having to leave his side because the woman who would be his wife had to be awakened and brought here broke Sophia’s heart. After all, she was the one for whom he had asked. She was the one who had kept vigil for a day and a night.

Hurt and dejected, she reluctantly allowed Hobbes to walk her back to her room.

“I’ll have some food brought up,” Hobbes said.

“No, thank you,” Sophia said, hugging her arms to herself. She couldn’t possibly eat now, not when her heart had been ripped out and dashed to the floor to be trampled.

Instead, she shucked her dressing gown and crawled into her cold bed, staring at the window as the light of dawn grew brighter and brighter. Knowing Jack had emerged from the claws of death filled her with tremendous joy but her happiness was bittersweet because right now, the woman who would bear his children—his legitimate children—a woman he didn’t even know, was by his side.

Long, torturous hours passed as Sophia lay, staring, refusing to think, refusing to feel. What on earth had she agreed to?

But inwardly, she knew the moment she got word that Jack wanted to see to her, she would fly to him with open arms. It wasn’t because she accepted second place in his life, she would go because she loved him that much.

The sounds of horses, carriage wheels and men barking orders drifted through the thick leaded glass window panes. Had someone arrived?

Sophia pushed back the covers and padded barefoot across the room. Drawing back the lace panel, she peered out the window, watching, stunned, as the countess stepped into her grand coach. As soon as she was inside, the coachman kissed to the horses and the royal procession of horses, carriages and footman were off.

“Why would she leave?” Sophia muttered out loud. And then realization struck. Her blood drained, pooling in her shaking legs. Her fingers flew involuntarily to her lips. Her breath froze.

Jack was dead.

There was no other explanation.

She whirled, searching frantically for her dressing gown. No. No! This couldn’t be. She hadn’t got the chance to tell him goodbye. She hadn’t got to tell him that she loved him.

Hands shaking violently, she shrugged on the thick garment. Just then, a tap came on her door and it opened. The servant girl who’d been with her when she’d awakened the previous day stood there. She bobbed a curtsy. “Come with me, please, My Lady. Your presence is needed in his lordship’s chamber.”

Immobilized, Sophia gaped. “Is he—” She stopped short, unable to utter the word that hung on her lips.

“I’m only told to bring you to his chamber, ma’am.”

Biting her bottom lip to keep from sobbing, Sophia followed the maid down the hallway. Her heart felt like a stone in her chest. Heavy. Hard. Jack was dead. She knew it. Why else would the countess and her entire entourage have gone away?

The servant stopped at the door. “You may go in.”

Sophia searched the girl’s eyes for some inkling of grief but there was none. She gulped as the girl opened the door to admit her. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she stepped inside fully expecting to find Jack lying in state.

Instead, he sat in the bed, resting against a thick bank of pillows. A wide smile claimed his lips when he saw her. Sophia squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again to be certain she wasn’t imagining it all. “Jack? I thought—”

“Darling,” he called, waving her to come to him.

Thankfully, no one else was in the room. “I thought you were—”

“Come here!” he called, laughing.

He was alive! And he was smiling and laughing. After the fact saturated her, she darted across the vast chamber and climbed onto the edge of the bed. “I thought you had died,” she said, tears pouring unchecked down her cheeks.

“Died? Heavens, no,” he said. “I’m much better. In fact, I’m very well now that you are here.”

He cupped her face and lightly brushed the pad of his thumb over the bruise.

“But I saw the countess leaving and—” she began.

“Ah,” he interjected. “Yes. She’s gone.”

“Gone?” Sophia asked. “I don’t understand. She left? Because of me?”

Jack nodded. “Yes.”

Sophia hung her head. “I’m sorry.”

He tilted her chin up so that she looked into his eyes. “Sorry? I thought you’d be happy.”

“I would never do anything to jeopardize your future,” she said.

He laughed heartily. “Sophia, you silly minx. I asked her to leave. I cried off.”

Sophia stared, disbelieving.

“I told her I couldn’t marry her,” he continued.

“But—”

“How could I have possibly married her…when I am so utterly in love with you?”

Sophia’s lips parted. She wanted to pinch herself to make certain she was not dreaming. He loved her?

“As it turns out, she is in love with some Russian nobleman. She was thrilled to break the engagement,” Jack explained.

Speechless, Sophia searched his eyes. She could hardly believe it. Too much had happened for her to absorb it all.

One side of Jack’s mouth twisted into a lopsided winsome smile. “Darling, will you marry me?”

Marry him? Marry Jack? Sophia smiled as she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Everything she had ever hoped for, everything she had ever wanted, hovered within her reach. Everything. But rather than answering him with words, she fell into his embrace and responded with a kiss that would leave Jack Badcock, Earl of Stafford, without a doubt that her answer was yes.