“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 ofthe 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 crimsonstain 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.
Chapter Fifteen
Too overwrought andweary to shed another tear, Sophie stared at the mausoleum through the fluttering folds of her black gossamer veil. Maman was happy now, finally reunited with Papa. She wondered if he would scold her mother for the terrible scheme that had cost her the opportunity to spend more time on earth with their only daughter, the child of their perfect love, as Maman had so often called her.
A deep sigh worked itself free, despite her best efforts to stop it. Perfect love, indeed. Such a thing only existed in fairy tales and silly romance stories read by girls too foolish and naïve to believe the cold, hard truth.
A tall, somber form quietly shifted in place to her left, pulling her from her tortured musings.
“She is at peace now, Mr. Wethersby,” she gently reminded him. Even though Maman had never given him the slightest encouragement, he had remained hopeful and steadfast in his adoration.
“And her soul is now whole again,” he said with a sad smile. “I am glad for her. Your mother deserves a peaceful eternity with the love she longed for with all her heart.”
Sophie nodded, then turned toward him and offered him the slightest nod. “Thank you, Mr. Wethersby, for all that you tried to do. I will forever be in your debt.”
