Chapter Fourteen

His discussion with Burns and Miss Hampshire had gone much better than expected. Satisfaction filled Nash as the coach rolled to a stop in front of Rydleshire House. The day had been most successful, and Burns had even suggested an ingenious ploy to flush their villain out into the open. Excellent outcomes all around, indeed. He tipped the coach driver handsomely and grinned like a fool as the hackney drove away.

“Colonel!” Forthrite called out as he rushed toward him, glancing up and down the street as he crossed it. Tomes jogged along at his heels. The men’s scowls shattered Nash’s high spirits.

Panic and dread gripped him with icy fingers. “What has happened? Where is my Sophie?”

The two men halted and exchanged cringing looks.

“One of you better damn well answer me now.”

Forthrite jabbed a thumb back at Hasterton House. “Your wife is in there, sir. Has been ever since she and the duchess got back.”

“Got back from where?”

“Shopping,” Tomes said. “Seemed to be looking around, mostly. They didn’t tarry long or go into any of the shops. Eyed what was in the windows and spoke to some lady friends of theirs.”

“But after they spoke to those women, your lady acted unwell. Like something untoward had happened,” Forthrite said. “Afraid I don’t know what was said. Wasn’t close enough to hear anything.”

“I saw nothing happen,” Tomes said. “And her ladyship refused to tell us what went wrong. Neither she nor Her Grace would tell us anything.”

The back of Nash’s neck tingled with an uneasiness that made him roll his shoulders to rid himself of the unholy sensation. There had been that odd encounter with those three ladies who had addressed Miss Hampshire as Lady Rydleshire. Had those three meddlers relayed the meeting to Sophie? “Where did this happen? Where was Lady Sophie shopping?”

“Her ladyship and the duchess were strolling along pretty as you please on Bond Street.” Forthrite gave a bewildered shake of his head. “Then, after talking to those ladies, they loaded back up into their carriage, hurried to here, and scuttled into the duchess’s place. Haven’t been out since.”

“She must be feeling poorly indeed, colonel,” Tomes said. “She sent for her maid. A pair of footmen even helped the woman take several bundles over there to her.”

Nash clenched his teeth to keep from bellowing at the top of his lungs. Either those vile women had convinced her or Sophie had seen him with Miss Hampshire and assumed the worst. That would be the only reason for her behavior. He charged across to Hasterton House, loped up the steps, and pounded on the door. He would explain everything and bring her home so her mother could validate the truth of his story. Then all would be well between them again—at least, he prayed it would be so.

Gransdon barely cracked open the door. “Good day, Lord Rydleshire. You are not allowed admittance, sir.”

“Not allowed admittance?” Nash forced the toe of his boot into the crack so the butler couldn’t close the door. “My wife is in there. You will allow my entrance immediately.”

“That is not possible. Good day, my lord.” The wily old man booted Nash’s toe back out, slammed the door shut, and bolted it.

Nash stared at the door in raging disbelief. This could not be happening. Not when he and his precious swan had finally worked everything out and thrown themselves fully into growing their love and creating a real and lasting marriage. He banged on the door again, then rammed his shoulder against it over and over. The massive thing didn’t budge. “Damned oak. Let me in, Gransdon! Now, I say! Let me in this very minute!”

No sounds came from the other side of the barrier that kept him from the woman he loved.

“This is not over!” He ran back across the street and charged up the steps. They would let Sophie’s mother inside. She would plead his cause. As he burst into the house, Merritt and the dowager countess met him in the hallway. Their grim expressions made his heart plummet.

“She has barred you as well?” he asked his mother-in-law.

“Yes.” Lady Nia drew in a deep breath and released it with a heavy sigh. “Celia is protecting Sophie the best way she knows how—at Sophie’s request, I am quite certain.”

“By keeping you from your distraught daughter? Is she mad?” He wanted to rush back over there and chop the door to bits with an ax. “Why are you not enraged?”

“Because Celia loves Sophie like a sister.” The dowager sadly shook her head. “And Sophie trusts no one but her now. Not even me. I do not understand what happened today, but whatever it was, it destroyed the progress that the two of you made over these past few months.” Her mouth tightened into a hard line as she tipped her head in his direction. “Would you care to share what you think overset her?”

“I think this is better discussed in the parlor,” Merritt interrupted with a cautious glance up and down the hall. “Considering we have yet to discover our traitor.”

Nash agreed. He followed them into the room and shut the double doors. Neither Lady Nia nor Merritt sat. Nash felt the same. The torment of this situation did not allow for sitting. “I fear Sophie saw me with Miss Hampshire on Bond Street and completely misunderstood the circumstances of my visit. And according to my men, she spoke with some ladies of the ton who more than likely made the situation even worse.”

Lady Nia stared at him in disbelief as she slowly drifted toward him. “You did not tell her about your promise to General Hampshire?”

The accusation in the woman’s tone cut through Nash like white-hot steel and accused him of being the worst sort of fool.

“I did not wish to trouble her with it.” He inwardly flinched at the weakness of the excuse.

“You know she has struggled to trust you.” The dowager closed the distance between them as though ready to strike him. “Did you not consider for one moment what it would look like for you to be seen with a woman of Miss Hampshire’s reputation?” She clenched her trembling fists tighter. “Where did you meet with this young madam of Bond Street to discuss her opportunities?” Her furious scowl left no doubt about how deeply he had fouled this venture. “Tell me you discussed everything in the privacy of a coach. Tell me you chose not to enter her brothel during midday, when the ladies of the ton are known to do their shopping on Bond Street.”

He bowed his head and stared at his boot tips. “I wish I could tell you all those things. But I cannot.”

“Merde.” She turned aside with a hard shake of her head. “My child may never trust you again.”

While he painfully agreed with that possibility, Lady Nia could still make all the difference in this debacle. Surely she knew that. “You can tell her of our plan to set Miss Hampshire up in a new life as my way of helping the general. Tell her I was not visiting the brothel for anything other than to speak with the woman and consult Burns about a way to trap our assassin.”

“And how do you expect me to convince her of your fine, upstanding character when she will not see me, either?” Lady Nia spun around and shook a finger at him. “I will not clean up your mess for you! You are a damned fool. I cannot believe you did not tell her. Never keep secrets from your wife. Never! Have you no sense whatsoever?” She glared at him, then slowly narrowed her eyes. “Or are all your words merely that? Pretty little words. Platitudes to get what you want. Are you even capable of loving someone enough to do what is best for them no matter what anyone else thinks, or how uncomfortable it may make you?” She threw up her hands and turned her back on him again. “You may have lost her forever this time.” She sank into a chair, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples with shaking hands.

Merritt just stood there staring at him.

“Well?” Nash resettled his stance and braced himself. “Say it. I can see you are about to burst with the need to do so.”

His friend slowly shook his head. “I never thought you a foolish man until now.” He sauntered closer. “You tossed away the love of a fine lady just because you wished to avoid the unpleasantness that conversation would stir.” He shook his head again. “I changed my mind. You are not a fool. You are a bloody coward.”

Nash wouldn’t argue with either of them because they were both right. He deserved everything they said and more. He scrubbed his face with both hands, hating himself more than his precious Sophie ever would. “Tell me what I can do,” he begged. “Tell me how to repair this damage I have done.”

Lady Nia slowly shook her head. “I am at a loss. I have no idea what my daughter might do because of this.” She fixed him with a hard look. “Sophie feels foolish and betrayed. I know that much. She may run, and if she wishes to hide from us—we will be hard-pressed to find her.”

“She cannot steal away. All her things are here.” The ridiculousness of what he had just said settled like a crushing weight on his shoulders. If Sophie wished to run, she had the resources to do so, and Celia would do anything in her power to help her. His precious swan would want for nothing.

“Write to her,” the dowager said in a tone that instilled little confidence that such a plan might work. “I shall write to her as well, and also write to Celia. All we can do is hope that one of them will read our letters and give us the opportunity to speak with Sophie and convince her that you have not strayed.” She flinched as though in pain. “Have your general write to her as well. Perhaps his letter will get through, whereas ours will more than likely end up as ash in the grates of Hasterton House.”

“Write to her?” He grimaced at the foolhardy plan. That could take days. He wanted things settled right now, this very hour, if possible. “I am not writing to her. I am going back over there, and, one way or another, I will see my Sophie.”

“Did it ever occur to you that you are behaving like a man filled with guilt?” Lady Nia pinned him with a harsh glare that cut him to ribbons.

“I am filled with guilt, but not for being unfaithful to my beloved wife. I have not nor ever will do that to her. But I do feel guilty for not telling her of my plans before I carried them out.”

Loud voices in the hallway made all of them turn and stare at the closed double doors.

Thornton opened one of them and stuck his head into the parlor while keeping his body wedged in the space to prevent whoever was in the hall from entering the parlor. “Mr. Forthrite insists on speaking with you, my lord.”

“It may be too late now,” the man growled as he shoved around the butler, marched to the front windows, and yanked aside the drapes. “The carriage is just now pulling away. I feared as much.”

“What carriage?” Nash joined him at the window in time to catch a glimpse of a shiny black hackney as it rambled out of sight. He spun around to Forthrite. “Tell me. Now!”

“A well-dressed fellow,” Forthrite said. “Tall. Older. Beady black eyes and a long nose. Real rat-faced, he was. Got out of the carriage and went into Hasterton House. In there for just a little while. When he came out, Lady Sophie was on his arm.”

“He took my Sophie?” Lady Nia shoved in between them, her voice filled with panic. “Why did you not stop him? Why did you not shoot him?”

Forthrite gave her a bewildered look, then an awkward dip of his chin. “She went with him like she meant to go with him, my lady. Near as I could tell, the man did nothing to force her. In fact, they seemed right friendly with each other.”

Nash caught hold of his mother-in-law’s arm and turned her to face him, suspicion pounding through him. “Who is this man?”

“Virgil Nevillestone. Sophie calls him uncle, because he was my husband’s closest friend. They were even closer than most brothers.”

Something in her eyes, in the way she held herself, told Nash there was so much more that she wasn’t saying. “And yet you don’t seem to trust him. You even wanted him shot. Why?”

She drew herself up, lifting her chin higher. “Because he is the one behind the threats.” She wet her lips as if about to double over and retch. “The man is deranged.”

Nash grabbed her by the shoulders, wanting to shake her hard but somehow finding the control not to do so. “What do you know, mother-in-law? All of it! The entire truth, if you would be so kind.”

Merritt rested a hand on Nash’s arm and gripped it firmly. “Let her go, Nash.”

“He has every right to be enraged,” Lady Nia told Merritt. She huffed a bitter laugh. “When he learns the truth, he may kill me—and rightly so. I deserve the worst punishment that can be meted out.”

As the ominous dread within him grew, Nash held up a hand and silenced them all. He jerked his chin at Forthrite. “Follow that carriage. You, Tomes, and Freedly. If you can safely get a killing shot off, do it.”

Forthrite shot out of the room, and Nash turned back to Lady Nia. “Make haste, my lady. I have my love to save.”

“When I created the fake Earl of Rydleshire, I unknowingly imprisoned my precious daughter. I thought I was securing a stable future for her, but instead, I created a lonely, dangerous trap.” Lady Nia folded her hands and held them poised in front of herself while standing proud and tall. “Everything was fine until Sophie got older. She became so lonely when others her age debuted and found husbands. She was especially lonely after Frannie and Celia, her sisters, made wonderful love matches.” The dowager countess frowned at the floor, her sadness aging her. “I came up with a plan to shatter the walls of my dear child’s prison, and when Queen Charlotte agreed to help, I thought all would be well—especially because Sophie had loved you. Even though she never spoke of you, I knew she still cared.” She lifted her gaze to his, trembling as she spoke. “But then the one whom the queen and I trusted to help us make the threats seem real enough to convince Sophie turned on me and revealed a side of himself I had never seen before.”

“Virgil Nevillestone.” Hatred and thirst for the man’s blood consumed Nash.

“Yes. Virgil Nevillestone. My husband’s best friend, who had always stayed close to me and Sophie. I thought it was because of his friendship with David. But as it turned out, the man possessed an unhealthy obsession for me.” She bowed her head, and her voice broke. “And that obsession became quite alarming after I made the mistake of allowing him into my bed for a night that I wish never happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?” Nash opened and closed his fists, aching to smash something. “You arranged for Queen Charlotte to make me the earl and forced Sophie to marry me with the assistance of a madman to threaten her life?”

“Sophie loved you.” Lady Nia stared at him as if those three words explained everything. “I knew, if you could learn to love her, that you and she might discover the joy her father and I had.” She jutted her chin upward again. “And I was not aware of the extent of Nevillestone’s madness until he tried to stone her and then hired a shooter. I did everything I knew to stop him.” She fisted her hands and moved closer. “I offered to marry him even, but he laughed in my face and said it was too late.”

“Why did you not tell me?” Nash roared. “I could have tracked the man down and ended him.”

“I sent men after him,” she said, her tone defensive and shrill. “I almost killed him twice myself, but he escaped.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “Why did you not tell me?” He shook her again. “Me? Your daughter’s husband? I had the right to know!”

Her tears slipped free and rolled down her cheeks. “I didn’t want Sophie to know how I failed her. How I had risked her life and lost control of the situation.”

He shoved her away and turned aside, too angry to even look at her for fear of what he might do. “And now he has her,” he said with a ragged breath. “He has the woman I love.” He turned and jabbed a shaking finger at her. “I want you gone from here by the time I return with her.”

“I want to come with you.”

“You have done enough, dowager countess. Quite enough indeed.”

He charged out of the parlor and headed for Sophie’s workroom to load up on weapons. He selected a pair of pistols and secured them under his coat, thanking the powers that his brilliant wife always kept everything loaded and ready. He belted on a sword, snatched up a rifle, then broke into a run and took the shortest route to the stables. As he burst out of the garden and crossed the mews, he bellowed, “My horse, Mr. Wallace! Now!”

Unable to stand idly by while the groom readied his mount, Nash helped the man, stashed the rifle in the saddle’s special holster, then leapt onto the horse. Just as he exited the mews and turned onto the street, Tomes galloped into view.

“This way, my lord!” The guard turned his beast in the middle of the street and waved for Nash to follow. “Forthrite sent me back to show you the way,” he called out as Nash caught up with him.

“Forthrite and Freedly are still with the carriage?”

The man nodded while leaning forward to spur his animal on. “They’ve gone to the park and slowed to an amble. The men are staying close and ready to fire as soon as they can get a clear shot.”

Nevillestone’s last threatening letter came back to Nash with a vengeance: The old one dies in the channel and the young one dies in the park. I shall let the queen rot in Kew. No money or thanks necessary. Liars and deceivers dead is reward enough.

“He means to kill her there!” He spurred his horse on, cursing the conveyances clogging the thoroughfare. Curzon Street led right to Hyde Park but was not close enough for his liking. He needed to be at his precious swan’s side in the blink of an eye. A roiling gray blanket of clouds blotted out the sun, and rain cut loose as if the Almighty Himself had decided to punish Nash for his arrogance.

“There!” Tomes pointed as they galloped across the grounds, ignoring the paths and lanes. “In the middle of those trees. By the lake.”

Nash didn’t slow as he pulled a pistol free and readied it to fire. The hackney had come to a standstill beneath a massive oak. The driver sat hunched over against the storm with his collar pulled up high and his hat pulled low. The team of two horses stood with their heads lowered against the deluge.

Due to the blinding rain, Nash couldn’t make out anything through the back window of the carriage other than shadows. At least there appeared to be two people in an upright position, although they both sat very still.

“Damn and blast it all!” He tossed all caution to the wind, motioning for Tomes and the other two men to cover the driver in case the man had been armed by Nevillestone. He eased up beside the carriage and drew up even with the door. When he yanked it open, his blood ran cold.

The blackguard sat with the tip of his pistol tucked under Sophie’s chin. Pale as death, she stared straight ahead clutching her reticule in her lap.

“Lord Rydleshire,” the devil drawled with a baleful smile. “Virgil Nevillestone at your service, and I would like to thank you for making this part of my plan go ever so much easier.” He nudged Sophie’s throat with the gun’s barrel and wheezed out a haughty chortle. “I had not quite worked out how to get fickle Nia’s daughter to join me in a final ride.” He wrinkled his sharp nose as though suddenly smelling something foul. “Lover’s spat, you understand, and this upstart of a chit always sided with her mother.” He chuckled. “At least, until she decided she could no longer trust her—thanks to you, my lord.”

“Let her go, and I will consider allowing you to live,” Nash said. “My men and I have you surrounded.”

“Let her go?” Nevillestone barked with amusement. “You are most entertaining, my lord.” All humor left the man, and pure evil shone in his eyes. “There is no power on this earth that could convince me to allow this spoiled bit of skirt to live.”

Nash ground his teeth until his jaws ached, ignoring the sound of a horse approaching at a hard gallop. With his pistol trained on Nevillestone, he pulled his rifle from its sheath and aimed it at the man as well. “There will be nothing left of you to bury if you harm her.”

“You think I care?” the man sneered, but then his expression filled with so much rage that he shook as if chilled to the bone. “I told you it was too late,” he growled through bared teeth.

“Let her go and take me instead,” Lady Nia called out. Her nervous mount danced back and forth on the other side of Nash’s horse, mirroring the tension of its rider. “You hate me, Virgil. Not her.”

Nevillestone made a moue of distaste and shook his head. “Decidedly wrong, my lady. I hate you both.” He cast a jerking nod in her direction. “Although I do admit to hating you more than I despise her.”

“But if you kill her, and her husband kills you, I live on.” She fixed him with a victorious glare, then beamed a blindingly cruel smile at the man. “I shall dance on your grave in a dress of the brightest crimson, and see that your headstone reads: Here lies Virgil Nevillestone—less of a man both in and out of the bedchamber.”

The blackguard gave her a toothy grin. “You truly believe I would rise to such desperate bait? Have I not foiled you at every turn so far?”

Nash noticed Forthrite attempting to ease around the other side of the carriage, squeezing in between it and the tree to catch the fiend unawares.

“If he comes closer,” Nevillestone warned, “I shall blow off her pretty little head much sooner than I planned.” He thumbed the hammer of the pistol back another click.

Sophie closed her eyes and flattened her mouth into a fiercer line.

“Come back to this side, Forthrite,” Nash ordered his colleague, itching to unload the rifle into the devil’s chest. The man might be a maniacal coward, but he was no fool. Nevillestone used Sophie as a shield.

“Much better,” the blackguard said with a slow nod. “It will be my choice when to end this performance. No one else’s.”

“In my eye,” Sophie growled before two shots rang out inside the carriage.

Nevillestone unleashed a bloodcurdling scream, then fired wildly as she dove out the door and tumbled to the ground.

Nash emptied both pistol and rifle into the man. The force of the weapons’ close range slammed the devil back against the seat, then he slumped into stillness.

“Sophie!” Nash leapt from the saddle and reached for his beloved swan.

“Get away from me,” she snarled while scrambling out of reach, but then she looked across the way and paled. “Maman!”

Nash turned and discovered his men kneeling on either side of the dowager countess. His heart sank at the dark crimson stain slowly spreading across the front of the pale blue spencer that perfectly matched the delicate flowers of her gown.

“Maman,” Sophie sobbed as she crawled over to her mother and pulled her into her lap. She pressed a hand on the stain, shaking her head as the bleeding refused to stop. “Maman, you must stop this nonsense immediately. It is no longer amusing!”

“I saw what you did,” her mother said softly while looking up at her with a faint smile. “Well done, my dearest one. Shot him in his lap without taking your pistol from your reticule.”

“You taught me well, Maman.” Sophie gave another hitching cry as she hugged her mother closer. “Now, you must stop bleeding this instant. I cannot be without you, Maman. Not for a single second. Do you understand?”

Even though he feared it futile, Nash ripped off his jacket and waistcoat, then tore off his shirt and wadded it against Lady Nia’s chest and applied pressure. He looked to Forthrite. “A physician. Now.”

Forthrite offered a grim nod before mounting up and thundering off.

“Let me go, my little one,” the dowager countess whispered. “It is time for me to join Papa.”

“Stop it, Maman. I will not listen to such.” Sophie covered Nash’s hands with hers and held the shirt harder against the wound. She stared into his eyes and begged, “Save her! Please!”

Lady Nia barely lifted a hand as though trying to touch Sophie’s cheek. “Papa waits for me, little one.” Joy outshone the sadness in her eyes. “See him, precious?” she asked in a weaker whisper. “He is right there, and so very proud of you. As am I—always and forever.”

“No,” Sophie wailed, closing her eyes while rocking with her mother in her arms. She caught Lady Nia’s outstretched hand and pressed it to her cheek. “I need you here with me. Please…please don’t leave me.”

“I love you, my precious daughter. Please…find it in your heart to forgive me. You have always been my greatest treasure.” Then the dowager countess released the softest sigh, and not another breath followed.