Sophia’s stomach dropped.
“Oh yes.” Drakeston’s voice dripped with satisfaction. “I know your secret, Your Grace. I have known for some time. Lady Fairhart, the mysterious matchmaker who has captivated London society.” He laughed; the sound ugly in the darkness. “Imagine what would happen if that secret came to light. The scandal. The humiliation. Your husband’s precious reputation, dragged through the mud.”
“You are evil.” Sophia spat the words.
“I am practical.” Drakeston stepped closer. “I am a man who knows what he wants and will take what is owed to him.” His hand shot out, his fingers closing around her wrist. “Your husband took something from me. My money. My standing. My future. It is only fair that I take something from him in return.”
Sophia tried to pull free. His grip tightened, bruising her.
“What do you want?” The question emerged through gritted teeth.
Drakeston leaned in, his breath hot against her face. “It is simple, Your Grace. I want what you denied me for so long.” His eyes traveled over her body, slow and deliberate. “I want you.”
CHAPTER 38
“Enter.”
Edward set down his glass and turned toward the study door. The knock had been soft, hesitant, nothing like the confident rap of a servant.
No one entered.
Instead, he heard the rattle of the doorknob, followed by a small grunt of effort. Then, muffled through the wood, came Oliver’s exasperated voice.
“I cannot reach the handle.”
Edward crossed the room and opened the door. Oliver stood in the corridor in his nightshirt, his dark curls disheveled, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy with unshed tears. He clutched a stuffed rabbit to his chest, the same rabbit that had belonged to his mother.
“Oliver.” Edward crouched to the boy’s level. “What are you doing awake at this hour?”
“I had a nightmare.” Oliver’s lower lip trembled. “A bad one. With monsters and dark places, and I couldn’t find anyone.”
Edward’s chest tightened. He thought of all the nights he had spent alone with his own terrors, his own dark places, with no one to turn to. His father would have sent him back to bed with a lecture about weakness. His mother had been gone.
He would not be his father.
“Come over here.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the fire. “Sit with me.”
Oliver padded across the carpet and climbed onto the settee near the hearth. Edward settled beside him, leaving space between them, uncertain of the boundaries. The fire crackled. The clock ticked. Oliver hugged his rabbit tighter.
“Did you have a nightmare too?” Oliver’s voice was small.
Edward looked at the boy. At the wide blue eyes that held so much of Leonard, so much trust despite everything Edward had failed to give him.
He sighed. “Yes. I suppose I did.”
“Was it about monsters?”
“Of a sort.” Edward stared into the flames. “My monsters are different from yours. They live inside my head and tell me I am not good enough. That I will fail the people I care about.” He paused. “That I already have.”
Oliver was quiet for a moment. Then he scooted closer and pressed his small body against Edward’s side.
“Sophia says that when you have a nightmare, you should think about something happy instead.” His voice held the certainty of a child repeating trusted wisdom. “She says the happy thoughts chase the monsters away.”
Edward’s throat constricted at the mention of her name. “Sophia is very wise.”
“She is.” Oliver nodded. “She makes everything better.” He looked up at Edward with troubled eyes. “Why have you been sad, Uncle Edward? You and Sophia used to smile at each other. Now you do not talk at all.”
The question pierced through Edward’s carefully constructed walls. He opened his mouth to deflect, to offer some meaningless platitude, but the words would not come.
