“You may leave now,” Patrick told his valet. Once the door had shut behind the servant, he told Stephen what had happened to Sophie.
“How did Spode know you had been to that silly shop with those ridiculous little things that feel too small in my hands?” Stephen queried when Patrick had finished.
“He had to have someone following her on horseback. Until now, he’s not had a chance to touch her,” Patrick said with a growl. “I didn’t do enough to keep her safe.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you did.” Stephen handed him a drink. “I’m just shocked that Jack Spode chose to shoot Sophie. I had thought he wanted revenge but?—”
“You thought he’d capture her to abuse her,” Patrick finished in a hard voice.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Hatchett told me he can find no trace of Spode. No one will talk about him, no matter how much money he throws around.”
“Then it may be time to remove Sophie and her family from London, Colt. Hide her somewhere until he is caught, because today told us he will not give up, and if that bullet had killed her?—”
“Don’t,” Patrick said.
“You would have suffered too, my friend,” Stephen added softly.
Stephen was right. He needed to get Sophie, Lady Carstairs, and Timmy out of London. He could keep them safe at his estate easier than here in a busy city.
“We will leave as soon as she is able to travel,” he said. “And I’m killing that bastard as soon as I find him.”
“That is one thing we are in agreement about,” Stephen added.
CHAPTER 33
Sophie woke thirsty. Her arm felt heavy, and fire traveled through it as she moved. Her right side was pressed up against something warm. Turning her head, she tried to see what it was.
“Sophie?”
“What are you doing in my bed?” she croaked.
“It’s my bed, and I wasn’t leaving you in case you needed me,” Patrick said, rolling onto his side. “What do you need?” He pushed back her hair. “How does your arm feel?”
“It hurts,” she whispered, sounding like Timmy when he was upset or in pain.
“I know.” He stroked her cheek. “What can I do?”
“I’m thirsty, Patrick.”
He got out of bed, and then there was a flare of light. Sophie watched him move to the bedside table in his black robe.
Had anyone seen him carry her inside his town house? What about earlier, when Patrick had picked her up when she was shot? Who was in the park?
She and Letty had worked hard to build the life they had. Was that about to come tumbling down?
He laid one hand on her forehead. “There is no temperature.”
“I don’t feel feverish,” Sophie said. “I need to leave here, Patrick. What if someone had seen me?—”
“You’re not leaving. Now, I will lift you, Sophie,” he added, easing an arm beneath her. “Don’t strain. Let me do all the work.”
She hissed out a breath as he put a hand under her shoulders and eased her upright. He then handed her a glass, and she drank deeply.
“Patrick, I will be all right now, so you can leave,” Sophie said as he lowered her to the bed.
“This is my bed. I’m staying in it,” he said after blowing out the candle. She watched him climb back in.
