“Did he say he took it as a challenge?” Celia sipped her champagne and adopted the sort of expression one might assume when talking about the weather or the latest fashions.
“No, but I saw it in his eyes. I remember that look from when we competed on the training fields.” Sophie caught the eye of the footman bearing a tray of drinks and lifted her empty crystal flute. She needed another, and another after that. Nash’s reaction to their indescribable afternoon terrified her.He might think himself temporarily besotted, but she knew he would never remain that way—and then where would her poor, battered heart find itself for a second time?
“You already love him,” Celia whispered, then tittered with a false laugh as a pair Sophie didn’t recognize strolled past them. “How in the world do you hope to keep it from him when I can see it plain as can be?”
Sophie attempted as graceful a stance as she could manage and sent a fake look of happiness Nash’s way while lifting her second glass of champagne in a silent toast to him. “I shall simply make myself unlove him.”
“I do not believeunloveis a word, sister.”
Before Sophie could argue, Celia took hold of her by the arm and steered her toward the double doors that led out into the garden. “Come. The rain has stopped, and your complexion has become as red as your hair. I noticed you ate nothing at supper, and downing champagne the rest of the evening is unwise. You might fool the others, but you cannot fool me. Some fresh air is called for before your mother gets involved.”
“Unloveis most certainly a word.” Sophie swapped out her empty glass for yet another full one. “And I fully intend to accomplish it for my heart’s own safety.”
“What would be so wrong with allowing yourself to love your husband?” Celia took the champagne away from her and poured it into the nearest rosebush.
Sophie worked her knuckles, flinching with every soft pop. “And then what happens to me when his temporary fascination wears off? When he gains what he thought he wanted, only to discover he did not want my affection at all? When he decides to take a mistress from all the ladybirds looking to land an earl as their next benefactor?” She peeped back in through the side window, trying to spot him. “Do you not remember what I wrote about the way he treated several of my older friends in Calais?”
“You are stronger than this, Sophie.” Celia scowled at her. “I know the queen unraveled everything you and your mother nurtured all these years, but do not allow this situation to take your power from you. You have the ways and means to make that man’s life quite uncomfortable should he be foolhardy enough to take a mistress, and you know it.” She tipped a decisive nod. “And if you cannot make him miserable, you can certainly scare off any woman foolish enough to come sniffing around him. Since when do you allow anyone to take anything that is yours?”
“Since Queen Charlotte so easily took everything I ever worked for.” Sophie blinked hard, fighting back angry tears—or maybe not angry ones. Maybe the tears came from her aching heart. Since the rain had stopped, she could no longer use that as a cover to hide any weeping. “I thought you would understand, but I should have known better. You and Elias have always loved each other.”
“Not always, and you know it,” Celia corrected her with a rare sternness. “I love you, my sister, but you must stop feeling sorry for yourself and take control of this situation before it makes you ill.”
Something heavy and sharp hit Sophie so hard between her shoulder blades that she cried out and stumbled forward. Clutching at the trellis to keep from going to the ground, she struggled not to pass out from the pain. “Run!” she gasped to Celia. Head swimming and fighting to breathe, she couldn’t move, but Celia needed to get away from whatever was happening. “Save yourself! Run!”
“Help!” Celia shrieked. “Help us!”
Strong hands closed around Sophie’s shoulders, and she flailed to fight them off. It had to be the blackmailer. Who else would have the audacity to climb the wall and attack her in her own garden?
“Sophie, it’s me!”
Nash’s deep voice somehow made it easier for her to breathe. She closed her eyes and stopped fighting, swallowing hard to keep from becoming ill.
“Search this garden now!” he bellowed, then swept her up into his arms, painfully jostling her as he charged back inside.
“I will be all right.” She forced her eyes open and pulled in a steadier breath that helped ease the throbbing that had started in the center of her back and shot through her. “Set me down and let me gather myself while you go after the fiend.”
Fury filled his face. Murder flashed in his eyes. “I will not leave you alone again. Why did you go out there without me?”
“It is our private garden,” she forced through clenched teeth. “Do not scold me like a child.”
He bowed his head, but his face reddened with even more rage. “Forgive me.” He eased her down onto a settee but bared his teeth when he drew his arm out from around her and discovered blood on his sleeve. “Call for a physician! My wife is badly injured.”
“Right away, sir,” Thornton called out amid the chaos in the drawing room.
“Let me have a look,” the dowager countess ordered Nash, seeming to appear out of nowhere. She joined Sophie on the settee and gently tugged her forward. “Did you hear gunfire, daughter?”
A roaring in Sophie’s ears drowned out her mother’s voice. She struggled to remain conscious, fighting against the dark spots swirling in her vision. A hard swallow to calm her churning stomach helped very little. “Maman, just let me breathe and calm myself. I am sure the injury cannot be as bad as all that, or I would not be speaking.”
“Did you hear gunfire?” her mother repeated more sharply.
“No. Something just hit me. Is Celia all right?” She tried to roll her shoulders, but a searing burn that triggered another vicious surge of nausea made her stop.
“I am right here,” Celia said from her other side. “I didn’t see or hear anything. She simply stumbled forward after something struck her in the back. Perhaps whatever hit her is still out there.”
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” said a footman to the dowager countess as he cautiously approached. He held out a large bundle crudely wrapped in twine and parchment. “This was found close to the trellis where Lady Sophie fell.”
Sophie held out her hand. “Here. Give it to me.”
