She dashed upstairs and was about to pass by her and Harry’s room on the way to the guest room when Harry came flying out into the hall, eyes bugged and face white. He grabbed her by the hand, hauled her into the room, and slammed the door. “I-i-it’s g-g-gone,” he wailed.
Sophia frowned. Harry’s speech was difficult to follow at times, especially when he got upset and his stuttering worsened. “What’s gone? And why are you up here already?”
“I f-f-finished quickly, s-so I c-came to do what you s-said.”
“All right. Now what’s gone?”
He pointed to where his bedroll usually was. It, along with the loose boards, had been moved from its usual spot. Fear started in her gut and gained speed and strength as she fell to her knees by the hole and peered into the darkness. She immediately saw the worn edges of the letter from her mother and let out a sob of relief as she grabbed it and stuffed it in her boot before peering back into the dark hole. Maybe the money had been shoved farther back?
“Hand me a candle,” she said.
Harry’s footsteps padded behind her as he retrieved the candle and then back toward her. He kneeled down and held the candle in front of them. “It’s n-n-no use, Sophia. I already ch-ch-checked. Twice. Your letter was the only thing in there, and I left it ’cause I know how you worry it might get r-ripped.” His lower lip started to tremble, and tears welled in his eyes.
Her heart twisted in commiseration. She wanted to cry, too, but she wouldn’t. Someone had to be strong for the both of them. Scanning the small, shabby room with its one cracked window and peeling wallpaper, despair wailed in her breast. They’d be stuck here forever. Ruthlessly, she fought against the hopelessness. She grabbed Harry’s hand and squeezed it. “We must try to stay calm.”
Squeezing her eyes shut against the ravaging panic, she counted slowly in her mind and took a long breath. When she opened her eyes, Harry was staring at her with tears streaming down his smooth, youthful cheeks. “Harry!” she gasped and tugged him to her, enfolding him in her protective embrace. “Don’t cry.” She ran a soothing hand over his fine, silky hair and kissed him on the top of his head. “It’s not your fault.”
He tore away from her. “I-it is my f-fault,” he groaned. “I l-left the d-door open w-when I was p-p-packing my b-bag and th-then a man stumbled past and I h-helped him d-down the s-stairs.”
“Did you pass anyone on the way down?”
Sophia’s nerves were a throbbing, balled, jumble of hard knots.
“F-Frank. H-he said h-he had to check on s-someone.”
Had Frank taken the money? If he knew she’d been hiding money... Dear God! “Harry did you see Frank again? Did he stop in here?”
Harry let out a shuddering breath and shook his head, but in her gut she knew it had to have been Frank. He was like a snake always slithering around, poised to strike. Sophia rose to her feet, glanced at the loose floorboards, and didn’t bother moving them back into place. There was no point. Frank already knew she’d been stashing money, and she could only imagine the hell he’d put her through because of it. Her cowardly side told her to run, but her sensible side reminded her that she had more to think about than herself. There was Harry to consider, and though she may be able to survive on the streets if need be, Harry wouldn’t, at least not with the kind-hearted, caring soul she knew and loved intact. She couldn’t allow that. She’d have to face whatever came, and she didn’t expect whatever that was would take long to arrive.
As if beckoned by her very thoughts, heavy footsteps pounded outside the room, announcing Frank’s approach. She raced across the room, grabbed Harry by the arm, slapped a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t protest, and dragged him to her mother’s old wardrobe, which for once in Sophia’s life she was thankful was practically empty. She shoved Harry in the wardrobe. “Stay in there, no matter what,” she hissed and eased the door shut just as the one to their bedroom swung open with a loud crack against the wall.
Frank loomed in the doorway, face twisted in rage and hands clutching a birch switch. Dread almost choked her as the skin on the back of her legs and her bottom prickled with the ingrained memory of how precisely a switch could slice into the skin like a thousand tiny knives that left stinging, bloody trails in its wake.
“What’s the money for, girl?”
“My dowry,” she blurted, grasping at the only thing she could think of that might save her from too many lashes.
Frank sneered at her as he advanced into the room and kicked the door shut with his boot. “Ye don’t need no dowry. Yer gonna marry the Duke of Scarsdale, and he’s gonna pay me. Ye never have given me the credit I deserve.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Sophia mumbled, finding it impossible to take her eyes off the switch that he was tapping against his right thigh. The birch looked thick; it would definitely leave a scar.
“Ye think yerself smarter than me,” he said.
Only because you are foxed all the time. She silenced the thought and carefully chose her words. “Certainly, I do not.”
“Certainly, I do not,” he mimicked, mocking the speech she’d spent so many hours trying to refine. He grasped her arm. “I’m not so dull-witted that I don’t see through yer lies. Ye weren’t savin’ that money for no dowry. Ye don’t even like men.”
That wasn’t true, she thought, startled by the vehemence that rose inside her. She simply didn’t like any of the men she knew.
“Ye was savin’ that money to take yerself and yer brother away from me, weren’t ye?” Frank thundered.
The fact that Frank’s liquor-soaked brain had grasped the truth both shocked and frightened her. She wasn’t stupid enough to think she’d hurt him because he loved them. He was spitting mad because he thought she was trying to deprive him of two able-bodied servants and ruin his scheme.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Frank. That money was for my dowry.” Even to her own ears, her words sounded pathetically false.
“Filthy rotten liar,” he sputtered and spun her around so her back was to him. She struggled to free the arm he still clasped, but the hiss of the birch switch filled the air, freezing her in place. Thin bands of wood cut into the tender skin on the back of her legs and made her knees buckle. Frank hauled her upright, and the air swished around her as he whipped back his arm and lashed her again. And again. And again.
She threw her arm back to stop him from hitting her legs once more, and the switch caught her clean across her upper arm and sliced straight through the sleeve of her thin, cotton gown to dig deep into her flesh. Nausea rose up in her throat as the switch came yet again at her legs. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard a high-pitched scream. It was hard to know for sure because her ears were ringing with the sound of rushing blood.
Her vision swam but... Was that the wardrobe door swinging open? Half hanging in Frank’s grasp, her head wanted to stay down, but she lifted it enough to watch in growing horror as Harry tumbled out of the wardrobe, gained his feet, and came charging toward them waving his arms wildly, eyes bulging, face twisted, red and glistening wet from the tears streaming down his cheeks.
Frank shoved her away with such force she flew to the ground. The board she’d not bothered to put back caught her smack in the center of the forehead, breaking her fall and jarring her teeth, as well as the rest of her body. Darkness invaded her vision almost immediately, but the last thing she saw was Harry pummeling Frank’s legs.
A strange numbness settled over her and the overwhelming fear that she was dying and abandoning Harry choked her, but her tongue seemed as frozen as her limbs. The only things she could do were close her eyes and accept the darkness as reality, and within seconds, as the pain in her legs and arm throbbed and pulsated, she welcomed the darkness.
The lady Sophia was different. Nathan couldn’t put his finger on it, but all the teasing, bantering lightness that made her formerly sparkling eyes dazzle like twin sapphires was gone. Now that his body had expelled the l
ast traces of the vile laudanum, his mind was clearer than it had been for the last two days. He shuddered with the knowledge that he had broken his former vow and taken the drug that had once led him down such a dark path. Though, in this case, he’d been unconscious when given it. Sophia sighed and he studied her once again.
She dipped the rag into the sponge basin that she’d used earlier to bathe him. Her head was lowered and her shoulders were slumped. The proud and seemingly fearless lady he remembered had disappeared. Something was definitely amiss.
Water dripped from the rag, leaving a wet trail behind her on the dark wood floor as she walked back toward him. Her narrow hips swayed gently as she walked with her eyes cast down to the rag in her hands, so Nathan didn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t staring. Her threadbare gown hung more loosely than the previous one she’d worn. She paused beside the bed and lifted her face, yet her eyes did not meet his. A rogue tendril of her rich coffee-colored hair fell forward across her cheekbone, and she raised her left hand to push it behind her ear. Her teeth clenched together as she moved, as if she were in pain.
He started to reach for her, then stopped himself, surprised by his inclination to touch her. “Is your arm hurt?” he asked.
She startled as though she’d not even been aware he was awake. Her jaw tensed visibly. “I see the laudanum has worn off.”
He admired the way she avoided his question with a statement. It was a tactic he often used himself. “It has. How could you tell?”
A smile crooked her lips for a moment before she puckered them, as if somehow smiling was wrong. She tilted her head and studied him for a long moment before speaking. “Are you sure you want me to tell you? The answer might embarrass you.”
“I don’t embarrass.”
One side of her mouth broke free of her control and tugged up into a wry smile. “That’s quite convenient.”
“Indeed. It’s suited me greatly, considering some of the choices I’ve made.”
“I can only imagine,” she murmured.
“So what did I do or say?”
“Oh, you begged me to kiss you every time I came into your room.”
That couldn’t be true. His taste ran to a womanlier figure and a decidedly colder personality. Lack of sentimentality was something to be prized in a woman by a man like him, one who didn’t believe in love. Sophia seemed to have far too much fire in her not to desire affection. He pulled his gaze to her eyes―intelligent, kind, and peering at him with a look of sad understanding. He felt like an arse. He hoped she hadn’t read the utter disbelief on his face at her claim. He didn’t want to hurt her. “Did you kiss me?”
She scowled at him. “Certainly not. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Waiting on a marriage proposal,” he teased.
Her lips pressed together in a thin line.
Where was the lady who had bantered so playfully with him? He wanted to glimpse her again. “Is it too early in the morning for witty rejoinders?” he asked to provoke her into sparring with him.
Her eyes locked on his as she shook her head. Was that fear dancing in the depths of her blue eyes?
“Sophia?” He pushed away from the pillows he was propped against and grasped her, forgetting, until she winced, that he suspected she’d hurt her arm. He immediately released her. “What is it?”
She darted a quick glance over her shoulder, then leaned near. “You have to help me,” she whispered urgently.
Wariness flickered to life in him, along with a strange sense of concern. The dueling emotions made him feel more irritable than he already was at the physician’s news that he should not travel until the end of the week. Before he could ascertain what had her so obviously upset, a male voice boomed her name from the doorway.
She jumped as if someone had stuck her with a fire poker. Nathan flicked his eyes to the door. The man sauntering into the room filled his mouth with sour distaste. He had flinty blue eyes—shockingly the color of Sophia’s—that were locked on Nathan. The closer the man came, the more repugnant the heavy stench of body odor mingled with stale liquor grew, until Nathan felt his brow furrow, which he immediately smoothed. The man’s midnight hair hung in long, limp strands to graze his shoulders. He paused beside Sophia and threw his arm over her shoulder.
The slight tremor of her body would likely have gone unnoticed by most people, but Nathan had developed a habit as a young lad to try to read his mother’s moods by watching for the slightest movements a person made. They often told something of what one was feeling. Sophia was repulsed by this man, who had to be her father, if their resemblance was any indication. A shaft of pity gripped him, which made him tense. Why was it this woman he barely knew affected him when others didn’t?
“It’s good to see ye alert, Yer Grace.”
“Likewise,” Nathan responded, guessing by the smell of this man that he was usually quite inebriated. The man’s sun-weathered brow filled with deep creases of confusion while, beside him, Sophia bit down on her lip to keep from smiling. Nathan found that he hoped she’d lose the fight to appear indifferent to his comment and her face would light with that lovely smile, but she darted her gaze to her father and all traces of her amusement vanished, causing a fierce surge of anger in Nathan. Obviously, this man was not good to her.
The man finally smiled, and Nathan barely resisted the urge to tell him to stop. It was hard to believe one mouth could possess so many rotted teeth, but the truth was grinning at him.
“I’m Frank Vane, and this is my tavern yer recoverin’ in.”
Nathan glanced at Sophia for confirmation that this thing before him was indeed her father. She met his gaze, and her cheeks pinked a bit before she nodded.
“I’m grateful,” he said simply, knowing he need say no more. The man had greed shining in his eyes. It wouldn’t be long before he asked for money. Nathan fully intended to give him some for the use of the bedroom and for allowing his daughter to care for him when he no doubt would normally have had her working downstairs. Perhaps twenty pounds? That would be a fortune to this man. And Nathan would privately give more to Sophia directly. He suspected she could use it.
“I’m glad to hear yer grateful. The question is how grateful are ye.”
“Frank!” The one word uttered from Sophia’s lips sounded like a plea.
Frank patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Get yerself to town and fetch me some bread at the store. We’re out.”
“Please, Frank―”
“Go on, girl. If yer lucky maybe ye’ll see yer brother if he’s in from workin’.”
Nathan had seen the faces of many angry women in his life, but Sophia looked as if she wanted to murder her father. Her blue eyes turned to ice and a mask of cold anger hardened her exquisite bones until she looked as if her expression had been carved from a glacier.
“I’ll be going, then,” she said through clenched teeth as her gaze found Nathan’s. “When I return you’ll hopefully be awake so I may speak with you, so I can―”
“Girl,” Frank warned, “ye better go or else yer gonna miss yer opportunity to see yer beloved brother.”
Nathan watched as her jaw tightened and a tick began. Whatever Sophia was she was not a woman without inner strength. He could practically feel her gathering her self-control to keep calm. The question was why? What the devil was occurring here?
Sophia nodded stiffly and started to turn away, but as she did, Nathan grabbed her hand, compelled by a strange need to ease whatever was bothering her. She glanced down at his hand, then over at him.
He released her and offered a slight smile. “I’m not tired at all, so I’m sure I’ll be awake.” He had many questions he wanted to ask her, not the least of which was how the devil she’d managed to drive his curricle and what had happened to the other man who was trying to kill them. Uncertain how much she had revealed to her father, and not wanting to say anything that may cause her trouble, he instead said, “I wrongly judged you.”
She blinked at him,
her wary gaze skittering to her father, then back to him. “How so, Your Grace?”
“You saved me, and not a single nefarious trap on my person has been sprung. My apologies and compliments.”
A momentary look of discomfort crossed her face that, on any other woman, he would have assumed meant they had just not sprung their intended trap yet, but he couldn’t summon the desire to be so cynical about her. Maybe it was the brush with death, or perhaps it was the fact that she had saved his life, but whatever it was, he decided she was simply embarrassed by his accolades.
With a nod of her head, she turned on her heel and fled out the door. As the door shut, Vane gave him another rotted-toothed grin. “She’s not much of a looker but her mama was the same when her age. She grew to be a beauty. Sophia will, too.”
“I assume you are going somewhere with this dialogue,” Nathan said, disliking the way the man disparaged his own daughter.
Vane nodded. “My girl saved yer life, Yer Grace. Did ye know that?”
“I suspected,” Nathan replied, irritation making his jaw twitch slowly.
“She drove ye here from the woods the night ye was shot, and she insisted in front of me and a packed tavern that she personally care for ye upstairs in this bedroom.”
“Did she? Seems a rather unwise thing to say in front of a room full of people. Such a statement could damage a reputation that I imagine already hangs precariously between passable and ruined, considering who you are.”
“Jest what are ye sayin’?” Vane demanded, spit flying out of his mouth.
“I’m saying,” Nathan replied in slow, punctuated words, “that given your daughter’s circumstances, I imagine she has to strive not to be labeled as ruined, and she seems far too intelligent not to realize this and do something as stupid as announcing to a tavern of men that she was going to personally care for a man.”
My Seductive Innocent Page 7
