Dudley walked in.
“Where is everybody?” he demanded in a snide tone. He wore traveling clothes. “What’s this? The servants are speaking of an accident? Have you killed off your husband already, Sophia? I never would have thought you had it in you.”
Sophia was glad Peaches was not present. She’d gone outside with Penny for a constitutional. Hopefully, their errand would be quick, though. Hopefully, Penny would return any minute.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. Her tongue felt thick and fuzzy. And then she sniffed. “Get out of my room, Dudley.”
Penny sometimes dawdled with Peaches. She would often stop and flirt with a house boy or chat with the cook until she could weasel a treat.
Sophia knew she was not safe. She was never safe alone with Dudley.
She needed to do something, anything to protect herself, but her limbs felt lethargic and heavy. She blinked, unable to summon any resistance. This was not good. Why was her stepbrother here? When had he arrived at Priory Point? She ought to scream, shout for help, but her mouth seemed disconnected from her brain.
“Your mother said the invitation had been extended to the Scofield family. Am I not your brother, Sophia? Oh, but no, you are Lady Harold now, are you not? But I am still your brother.” He went to the door to the foyer, she assumed to lock it, but before he could do so, a light tap preceded Rhoda’s head peaking in.
Rhoda had been devastated along with Sophia and had spent much of the afternoon comforting her.
What would she have done without her friend?
The instant Rhoda caught sight of Dudley, Sophia knew she would be safe. Rhoda knew of Dudley’s treachery and would make him go away.
“Mr. Scofield. I amso gladto have found you,” she gushed. “The gentlemen are searching yet for Lord Harold. There is still hope. You are needed at the cliffs. All able-bodied gentlemen must assist in the search.”
Dudley shrugged dismissively. “I can be of no help, Miss Mossant. I wouldn’t know where to go.”
But Rhoda was adamant. “I will show you.” She extended her hand, as though she would guide him physically, if necessary.
Looking rebellious, but then apparently realizing he could not protest the request for his assistance, Dudley acquiesced reluctantly.
“I’ll return shortly,” Rhoda told Sophia, looking over her shoulder as she led Dudley away.
With a watery smile, Sophia nodded.
Oh, thank God! Oh, thank God!
Summoning the last vestiges of wakefulness inside of her, she managed to stumble to the door and lock it behind her friend. As she returned to the bed, she glanced out the window and barely caught sight of Rhoda leading Dudley toward the cliffs, along the path they’d taken earlier. The sun had begun to set, and shadows were already long and dark. It did not take long for them to disappear. An edge of fear for Rhoda touched her, but Dudley would not attack her friend out in the open with so many gentlemen nearby.
Thank you, Rhoda. Oh, thank you.
She stumbled back toward the bed.
She would lie down for a moment. When Dev came back, she would unlock the door for him.
But her will was not stronger than the drug she’d been given, and sleep overcame her within moments.
* * *
After assuringhimself of Harold’s safe escape, Dev returned to discover a full-out search in effect. Several of the estate’s manservants as well as gentlemen neighbors had climbed down as far as they could safely do so, and others were discussing taking a small craft into the cove.
Dev would kick himself if he could, for not considering this aspect of their plan.
Thisaccidentthey’d pulled off would become all the more deplorable if someone attempting a rescue were to be hurt… or worse.
St. John was in his shirtsleeves and had already climbed down twice. He was doing his best to keep the vicar from doing so from a different angle.
The two of them had a fine line to walk. Making efforts torescueHarold without allowing anyone else to put themselves at risk unnecessarily. The only way Dev could do this, as St. John had already done, was to take on the most dangerous aspects of the recovery effort himself.
And so, the rest of the afternoon was spent in a small craft, maneuvering himself and St. John around some deadly rocks in anattemptto find Harold… or, as many now conceded… Harold’s body.
