“It was all a ruse. Just another part of his scheme.”
“If you insist. But I do think we should tell someone about his warning.”
“I cannot tell Papa I met him alone in the garden at night again.”
“Again?”
Eliza winced as she buried her face in her hands. “I’ve been a fool—as I said.”
“Oh, my Lizzie. You have been naughty…” Sophie teased. “What was it like?”
Eliza merely shook her head, refusing to surface from her palms.
“We should at least alert Bash. An extra set of eyes cannot hurt.”
“He does not need yet more work to do. He’s overextended as it is. And extra eyes are hardly necessary. There is no risk now. You cannot think me so weak.”
“If you insist,” Sophie said, a hint of weariness dipping into her tone. “Come to bed with me. I’m sure you’re exhausted after all your scolding.”
“Scolding?”
“Honestly, you were frightful. Please never use such a tone or speak to me in such a way. I would never recover. Lord Sinclair may, at this very moment, be slumped dead in a heap against the garden bed. Perished from the force of such an evisceration.”
Sophie urged Eliza with an arm around her shoulders back through the house. Silently, she guided Eliza back into her bed before climbing in after her. “In case you feel sad again.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry for being a jealous shrew?—”
“It is alright. You cannot be too perfect—it would be most rude. And I apologize for everything that came before.”
“Good night, Soph.”
“Good night, little sister.”
“It was five minutes,” Eliza griped as she flipped over to one side.
“Six, and they were very important minutes.”
That comment earned Sophie a wordless grumble.
“You do know I’ll continue to pester you about what happened in the garden?” she asked.
“Probably for as long as you continue to remind me you’re the eldest.”
“At least. Go to sleep.”
Eliza hummed and soon drifted off to a restless sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The walkto the townhouse was slow and agonizing. No step had ever cost him more until the next. His body and soul were both broken beyond repair.
Benedict understood his knock to be a perfunctory effort, fully expecting to be left to sit on the stoop until morning—the butler certainly wouldn’t wake to the sound.
To his astonishment, the door swung open, and West’s frame filled the doorway.
“Ben, thank God!” he cried, and wrapped his arm around Benedict’s shoulders.
Benedict couldn’t restrain his surprised cry of pain.
