“I’ll handle this, Barstow,” she said.
“Yes, Your Grace.” He gave Sophia a sympathetic look and bowed, before exiting.
“This is unexpected,” Roxboro said to her once Barstow and the other servants had gone.
Sophia approached, letter in hand. “You should read it,” she offered, not daring to get too close. Roxboro was…rather brittle in the morning light. She wasn’t sure what to do to comfort him.
“The gentleman’s way out. You understand the meaning, don’t you, Sophie? Though I can’t imagine why he would shoot Felicia.”
Sophia tamped down the jealousy at the use of Lady Maxwell’s given name. It spoke of intimacy between the two. “Maybe the letter will explain matters.”
“Will you read it to me. I don’t think—” Roxboro shut his eyes. “Please.”
“Of course.” Sophia tore open the envelope and pulled out one thin sheet of paper. The letter wasn’t long. Only a few paragraphs.
“Roxboro”,she read.“I’ve shot Lady Maxwell.”
“Well, I suppose that confirms matters,” Roxboro said, his voice etched with grief. “Continue.”
“She lies mere feet from me, dead as I write this. Soon, I will turn the pistol on myself once I post this letter. Confession, they say, is good for the soul. Felicia insisted, you see. She was always more consumed with guilt over our actions than I. I would have confessed sooner, Roxboro, but I assumed you’d be dead and I wouldn’t have to. But, you’ve always been far too lucky. Damon Viceroy has found me out.
Roxboro sent Sophia a questioning look.
“There’s more.” She cleared her throat.
“You see, dear friend, I’ve been pilfering bits of your fortune for several years. It was rather easy to do considering your love of drink, and I was quite desperate. You seemed an easy mark, and I could tolerate being in your company. At first, I merely stole your purse. Cheated you at cards. Hazard. Had you sign off on my markers at Binson’s after telling you they were yours. Do you recall the emerald cufflinks?”
Roxboro went still, hands clutching the stone. “My father’s. Rare and valuable. I stupidly,” he shook his head. “Well, it doesn’t matter.”
“I could have lived off you for years, but you were exhausting. I wanted away from you. So I forged your signature on a handful of bank drafts. Decent sums but far less than you usually spend. I never imagined Lord Damon and your secretary would look too closely. My mistake.”
A deep, horrible sound came from Roxboro. Sophia took two steps towards him, but he held out a hand. “No, Sophie. No. Finish it.”
“I had truly hoped that trollop at the brothel would kill you and I could flee to the Continent in peace, but your uncle was not so easily fooled. He has men looking for me, chasing me about until I realize I can run no further. So I’ll salvage what is left of my honor the only way I know how and I couldn’t allow Lady Maxwell to confess my sins to your uncle. Pity. She was a lovely woman.”
“That’s all,” Sophia choked out, wishing there was something she could do or say to take the sting of Oakhurst’s betrayal away, but there was nothing. “Save for his signature.”
“I’d no idea,” Roxboro’s chest rose and fell, pained by the news. “That he was destitute. Or that he hated me. I thought Oakhurst—it never occurred to me I was being used. We were always wallowing in drink. No wonder Uncle Damon couldn’t stand Oakhurst. He must have suspected.”
Sophia refolded the letter, touching his arm. “Alexander.”
“I want a brandy, Sophie. Desperately.”
“Alexander—”
“But I’m not going to have one.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I promise. You need not worry.” He gave her a wobbly smile before walking off the terrace and into the sweep of lawn. She watched him go, until he disappeared near a cluster of oak trees.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Lord Damon willarrive within the hour, Your Grace,” Barstow intoned. “A footman was sent ahead to alert you. I’ve prepared his usual rooms.”
Sophia’s mouth halted mid-bite, eyes raised to take in her husband. She’d done that quite a bit recently, mainly because it was hard to know that every day Alexander, glorious duke and former sot,washer husband.
“Splendid. Don’t you agree, duchess?” The green of his eyes heated as they settled on her mouth, bringing with it a rather vivid image of Sophia, naked, on her knees. His hands in her hair as he—
“I do,” she managed to say.
My God, he’s turned me into a trollop.
