“No one is going to be let go,” Sophie said as she joined them. “Especially not you, Mr. Wallace. I could not entrust my beautiful horses or my kitties to anyone but you.”
“Why do you believe that the man who took the shot and the one who climbed the wall are two different people?” Nash asked. “Did you see them? Can you describe the second man?”
Mr. Wallace pushed himself to his feet and pointed out the door. “I guess I couldn’t say that the one that done the shooting and the one who climbed the wall weren’t the same, but I caught sight of the second man watching while you and Mr. Merritt dragged his partner away. Right there he was. At that corner. But by the time I grabbed my pitchfork and went to catch the bas—” He clamped his mouth shut and gave an apologetic tip of his head to Sophie. “Beg pardon, my lady. By the time I went to catch the fiend, he’d done took off quicker than a fox. Tall man. Older. Dark-headed, with some gray. Had an odd look about him.”
“Have you seen him around here since?” Nash asked, wondering if taking Sophie to the park was such a good idea after all.
The old groom shook his head. “No, my lord. And the other grooms are watching for him as well. Anybody comes aroundhere will be set upon right quick, so they best have a good reason for being here.”
“Good man,” Sophie said as she bent and stroked the mother cat’s sleek back. “And thank you for taking such good care of Mama here and her babies.”
“I wish I’d done better with that there cove, my lady.” Mr. Wallace seemed to sag as he blew out a heavy sigh. “I beg your forgiveness.”
“There is nothing to forgive.” Sophie gave him a stern shake of her finger. “Carry on as you always have. I rest easier knowing you are here.”
He bowed his head. “Thank you, my lady. Thank you kindly.” He bobbed his head again. “I best get your mounts ready. I know you said you was doing it, but that just ain’t proper, if you don’t mind my saying so. Be ready for you in a moment.” He shuffled off down the aisle between the stalls.
“Sophie,” Nash said, not wanting to disappoint her but determined to keep her safe.
She held up a hand. “We are going. I refuse to cower.”
“We must be rational and safe.” He braced himself for the argument he saw brewing in her eyes.
“Then fetch your pistol and have Thornton fetch mine from my bedside table. It is my favorite, and fits quite nicely in the special pocket I had the craftsman add to my saddle.” She twitched a shrug that dared him to argue. “Or there is a rifle in my workroom, and all our saddles have been modified to carry them.”
“And do you have shields you can lash around your body in case the miscreant shoots from a distance before we see him?”
“I daresay that my jacket, waistcoat, and the whalebone in this corset should at least slow a bullet. I am sure I will be quite fine. In fact, my greatest danger will probably be from too muchsun.” She gave a decisive nod. “Please have Thornton send my parasol along with my pistol.”
“You cannot ride with your parasol.” Nash felt himself losing this disagreement at an alarming speed.
“Have you quite forgotten my impeccable horsemanship?”
He surrendered with a bow of his head. He did not have the heart to refuse her, not when they were getting along so well. “You will stay beside me at all times and do as I ask should anything untoward happen. Agreed?”
Victory sparkled in her smile and gleamed in her eyes. “Agreed. I shall be the model of an obedient wife.”
“I doubt that very much, my swan.”
She snorted with mirth. “So do I.”
Chapter Eleven
“It has beenwell over a month, Maman, and nothing has happened.” Sophie had never seen her mother so tenacious or single-minded about anything in her life. “Please stay here so I can see that you are safe with my own eyes.”
Her mother didn’t answer. She merely continued inspecting the open trunks and boxes scattered around her bedchamber, supervising while her maid packed them.
“Maude, please leave us for a moment,” Sophie said to the maid. “Perhaps treat yourself to a cup of tea?”
The silver-haired matron who had served Sophie’s mother since the beginning of time folded her hands across her thick middle and arched a brow at her mistress.
“Yes, Maude,” the dowager countess said. “I understand there is still much to pack, but please give us a few moments. I shall ring for you once I fully impress upon my daughter that I know best.”
“There should be time for two slices of cake, then,” the woman said as she toddled out the door.
Sophie glared after the maid. “Was that bit of wit aimed at your ability to make a convincing argument or my stubbornness?”
“Both, I would imagine.” Maman idly pawed through an open box on the bed, frowning at the neatly rolled fichus and lacy handkerchiefs. “Some of these must be yours. I cannotimagine any good reason for possessing so many.” With a flip of her hand, she huffed, as though dismissing the items from her presence. “Wasteful extravagance.”
