He rode toward the docks, toward the solicitor’s office, toward wherever Sophia might be.
Please, let her be safe. Let me find her. Let me have the chance to make this right.
The horse’s hooves echoed through the empty streets as Edward raced against the dawn.
CHAPTER 39
“You cannot be serious.”
Sophia forced the words out through numb lips. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Drakeston’s fingers dug into her wrist, his grip bruising, inescapable.
“I am perfectly serious.” His smile widened, revealing teeth that gleamed in the dim light. “I have waited years for this, Your Grace. Years of watching you parade around London, thinking yourself so clever, so untouchable. Years of planning exactly how I would claim what is owed to me.”
Sophia’s mind raced. The alley stretched dark and empty behind Drakeston, the street beyond a faint promise of safety. The hackney waited at the corner. If she could just get past him, if she could reach the driver?—
She needed time. Time for someone to pass by. Time for an opportunity to present itself.
“How did you know?” She kept her voice steady, though terror clawed at her throat. “About Lady Fairhart. How did you discover the truth?”
Drakeston preened at the question, his vanity rising to the bait. “I have eyes everywhere, Your Grace. Servants can be bought. Letters can be intercepted. Did you really think you could keep such a secret forever?” He laughed, the sound echoing off the narrow walls. “The mysterious matchmaker who has captivated all of London, reduced to nothing more than a desperate spinster paying off her father’s debts.”
“The debts are paid.” Sophia lifted her chin. “Every penny my father owed you. You have no hold over me anymore.”
“No hold?” Drakeston’s expression darkened. “Your husband saw to that, did he not? Swooped in and paid off the debts before I could collect what I was truly owed. Then he threatened to destroy me if I so much as looked in your direction.” His voice turned bitter. “He turned my associates against me. Poisoned my reputation in every club and parlor in London. Do you know what it is like, Your Grace, to have everything stripped away by a man who thinks himself above the laws that govern the rest of us?”
“Edward did what was right.” The words emerged fierce despite her fear. “He protected me from you.”
“He took everything from me.” Drakeston’s grip tightened until Sophia gasped with pain. “My leverage. My standing. My future. And now I will take something of his in return.”
Sophia twisted in his grasp, trying to wrench free. His other hand shot out and caught her shoulder, slamming her back against the brick wall. Stars burst across her vision.
“Do not make this difficult.” His breath was hot against her face, sour with wine. “Comply, and I will keep your secret. Resist, and I will destroy you both. The choice is yours.”
Sophia’s mind whirled. She thought of Oliver, waiting for her at home. Of Edward, drowning in guilt and brandy in his study. Of everything they had built and everything they stood to lose.
She would not let this man take anything more from her.
“You think Edward will simply allow this?” She injected scorn into her voice. “You think he will not hunt you to the ends of the earth if you touch me?”
“Your husband doesn’t care about you.” Drakeston sneered. “Do you think I have not heard the rumors? The Duke of Heatherwell, drinking himself into oblivion night after night. Fighting in basement taverns like a common thug. Your marriage is a sham, Your Grace. Everyone knows it.”
The words cut deeper than they should have. Sophia pushed the pain aside and focused on survival.
“If our marriage is such a sham, why would destroying me hurt him?” She tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “You cannot haveit both ways, my lord. Either he cares enough to be wounded by this, or he does not care at all. Which is it?”
Drakeston’s eyes narrowed. She had struck a nerve.Good.The longer she kept him talking, the better her chances were.
“It does not matter whether he cares.” His voice dropped to something dangerous. “What matters is that I will have what I want. What I have always wanted.” His hand moved from her shoulder to her throat, his fingers pressing against her pulse. “You denied me for three years, Your Grace. Made me wait. Made me beg. And all the while, you were spreading your legs for a duke.”
Sophia spat in his face.
Drakeston recoiled, shock and fury rippling across his expression. His hand came up, and Sophia braced for the blow.
It never landed.
A figure emerged from the darkness at the mouth of the alley. Tall. Broad. Moving with the coiled tension of a predator about to strike.
Edward.
