road.
“Haws! I thought you were following Lady Harding.”
Haws glowered from beneath a floppy farmer’s hat. Water slid off the wide brim in a steady stream. “I did.”
Sophia’s house lay in the opposite direction.
“She changed direction about halfway and went to your house instead.”
If Archimedes hadn’t shifted under him, Camden feared he might have continued staring with a befuddled look on his face for an embarrassing amount of time. Why the devil had she decided to see him? Unless she planned to confess? “Is she still there?”
Haws grunted, turning up the edge of his hat so his glare would reach Camden uninterrupted. “She made it to your house. As concerned as I am about her, I wasn’t about to wait around to see if she left.”
Camden squinted through the rain to where the lights of his house flickered in the distance.
Perhaps she’d gone to his house because it was closer than hers.
Except it wasn’t.
Camden gritted his teeth and urged the horse forward.
After several more miserable minutes, he reached the front steps of his home and was grateful to hand off his reins to a sleepy-eyed groom.
His butler opened the door. He must have been roused from his bed by Sophia, but somehow managed to appear as impeccable as ever. Perhaps the man slept like that—stiff and unmoving, his clothes not daring to wrinkle. But Camden kept his thoughts to himself. Rafferty understood his humor even less than most.
“I have taken the liberty of placing Lady Harding in the study. I have sent one of the grooms to Harding House for replacement clothing.”
Blood that had been icy a moment before melted in a flash of heat. Then what the devil was she wearing—or more importantly, not wearing—now?
C HAPTER N INE
S ophia wrapped the blanket more securely around her shoulders, staring down at the muddy, ruined slippers she’d removed and set next to the fireplace. She’d run from him. She couldn’t believe she’d run from Lord Grey like a frightened child.
But it had all happened before she even understood what her body was doing. She wasn’t thinking. All she could see was Richard’s mottled face.
She was supposed to be over this. She’d had three months. She’d been determined to let her fear go. Why wouldn’t it obey her? It was her emotion. It should be hers to control.
Yet she couldn’t. Not entirely. She still woke up in the middle of the night screaming, fighting off hands that could no longer hurt her. One day last week, she’d broken down sobbing in the middle of breakfast. And even though she knew it wasn’t grief, she had no idea what it had been.
Now she was at Lord Grey’s house at two o’clock in the morning. All so she could prove to herself, and to him, that she wasn’t mad or a coward.
Hearing footsteps in the hall, she stood. She’d explain herself, then leave. Whatever he thought of her after that was up to him. She wouldn’t go down that path again with anyone. She’d had enough of that with Richard.
Sophia’s smile faded as her husband brushed past her as they entered their rooms. “Did you not enjoy the musicale? You were splendid in the yellow waistcoat.”
Richard’s sharp bark of laughter surprised her. “Enjoy myself? How could I when you made an utter fool of me?” The handsome man who’d wooed her was gone, obliterated by the hideous rage she’d seen flashes of over the past month. It twisted his face and aged him by a dozen years. Since then, even when he was charming, she couldn’t help but see it just under the surface.
But now he’d directed it at her. Sophia swallowed, trying to think of what she could have done. In their six months of marriage, he had never spoken to her thus. She had done everything she could to make herself worthy of him. “I don’t think—”
“You spent the entire evening chatting with those awful, dowdy women in the corner. Is it a wonder that Lord Charles ignored me?”
Sophia flushed. She had spent
“Haws! I thought you were following Lady Harding.”
Haws glowered from beneath a floppy farmer’s hat. Water slid off the wide brim in a steady stream. “I did.”
Sophia’s house lay in the opposite direction.
“She changed direction about halfway and went to your house instead.”
If Archimedes hadn’t shifted under him, Camden feared he might have continued staring with a befuddled look on his face for an embarrassing amount of time. Why the devil had she decided to see him? Unless she planned to confess? “Is she still there?”
Haws grunted, turning up the edge of his hat so his glare would reach Camden uninterrupted. “She made it to your house. As concerned as I am about her, I wasn’t about to wait around to see if she left.”
Camden squinted through the rain to where the lights of his house flickered in the distance.
Perhaps she’d gone to his house because it was closer than hers.
Except it wasn’t.
Camden gritted his teeth and urged the horse forward.
After several more miserable minutes, he reached the front steps of his home and was grateful to hand off his reins to a sleepy-eyed groom.
His butler opened the door. He must have been roused from his bed by Sophia, but somehow managed to appear as impeccable as ever. Perhaps the man slept like that—stiff and unmoving, his clothes not daring to wrinkle. But Camden kept his thoughts to himself. Rafferty understood his humor even less than most.
“I have taken the liberty of placing Lady Harding in the study. I have sent one of the grooms to Harding House for replacement clothing.”
Blood that had been icy a moment before melted in a flash of heat. Then what the devil was she wearing—or more importantly, not wearing—now?
C HAPTER N INE
S ophia wrapped the blanket more securely around her shoulders, staring down at the muddy, ruined slippers she’d removed and set next to the fireplace. She’d run from him. She couldn’t believe she’d run from Lord Grey like a frightened child.
But it had all happened before she even understood what her body was doing. She wasn’t thinking. All she could see was Richard’s mottled face.
She was supposed to be over this. She’d had three months. She’d been determined to let her fear go. Why wouldn’t it obey her? It was her emotion. It should be hers to control.
Yet she couldn’t. Not entirely. She still woke up in the middle of the night screaming, fighting off hands that could no longer hurt her. One day last week, she’d broken down sobbing in the middle of breakfast. And even though she knew it wasn’t grief, she had no idea what it had been.
Now she was at Lord Grey’s house at two o’clock in the morning. All so she could prove to herself, and to him, that she wasn’t mad or a coward.
Hearing footsteps in the hall, she stood. She’d explain herself, then leave. Whatever he thought of her after that was up to him. She wouldn’t go down that path again with anyone. She’d had enough of that with Richard.
Sophia’s smile faded as her husband brushed past her as they entered their rooms. “Did you not enjoy the musicale? You were splendid in the yellow waistcoat.”
Richard’s sharp bark of laughter surprised her. “Enjoy myself? How could I when you made an utter fool of me?” The handsome man who’d wooed her was gone, obliterated by the hideous rage she’d seen flashes of over the past month. It twisted his face and aged him by a dozen years. Since then, even when he was charming, she couldn’t help but see it just under the surface.
But now he’d directed it at her. Sophia swallowed, trying to think of what she could have done. In their six months of marriage, he had never spoken to her thus. She had done everything she could to make herself worthy of him. “I don’t think—”
“You spent the entire evening chatting with those awful, dowdy women in the corner. Is it a wonder that Lord Charles ignored me?”
Sophia flushed. She had spent
Similar Books
