“Step away from my wife.”
His voice was ice and iron, a command that brooked no argument. He advanced into the alley, his hands curled into fists at his sides, and his face carved from granite.
Drakeston spun, his grip on Sophia loosening in surprise. “Heatherwell. How did you?—”
“I said step away.” Edward did not slow. “Now.”
Drakeston’s face contorted with rage. He yanked Sophia in front of him like a shield, his arm locking around her waist, and his other hand still at her throat.
“One more step and I will snap her neck.” His voice shook with desperation. “I swear to God, Heatherwell, I will do it.”
CHAPTER 40
“Get your hands off her.”
Edward did not wait for compliance. He seized Drakeston by the collar and wrenched him away from Sophia, sending the man stumbling backward. His fist connected with Drakeston’s jaw before the marquess could regain his footing.
The impact sang through Edward’s knuckles. Drakeston crashed against the alley wall, his head snapping back, and blood spraying from his split lip.
Edward hit him again.
And again.
Every ounce of fear, every moment of terror since Oliver had told him Sophia was missing, poured through his fists. He drove Drakeston to his knees. He grabbed him by the hair and forced his head back until their eyes met.
“Listen carefully.” Edward’s voice emerged low and lethal, barely recognizable as his own. “Because I will only say this once.”
Drakeston’s face was a ruin of blood and bruises. His eyes rolled with terror, the arrogance stripped away, leaving only the coward beneath.
“You will never come near my wife again.” Edward tightened his grip. “You will never speak to her. Never look at her. Never so much as breathe in her direction.”
“I—I understand—” Drakeston choked on blood and fear.
“I am not finished.” Edward wrenched his head back further. “You will leave England. Tonight. I do not care where you go. France. America. The bottom of the ocean. But if I hear so much as a whisper that you remain on English soil, I will find you.”
He leaned closer, his face inches from Drakeston’s.
“And if I ever hear anyone suggest my wife might be Lady Fairhart, if that rumor finds its way to a single pair of ears, I will know exactly where it came from.” His voice dropped to something barely human. “And I will break every bone in your body. Slowly. One by one. Until you beg me to let you die.”
Drakeston whimpered. His body shook with violent tremors. The stench of urine filled the alley.
“Do you understand me?” Edward demanded.
“Yes!” The word emerged as a sob. “Yes, I understand. I will go. I will leave. Please?—”
Edward released him. Drakeston collapsed onto the cobblestones, gasping and weeping. He scrambled backward on hands and knees, too terrified to stand, too broken to run.
“Go.” Edward stepped back. “Now. Before I change my mind.”
Drakeston found his footing. He staggered toward the far end of the alley, one hand pressed to his ruined face, glancing back with the wide eyes of a hunted animal. Then he disappeared around the corner, his footsteps fading into the pre-dawn silence.
Edward stood motionless, his chest heaving, his hands trembling with spent adrenaline. The rage drained out of him, leaving behind something hollow and shaken.
He turned.
Sophia stood at the mouth of the alley, her face pale, her eyes wide. She had not run. Had not fled to the hackney as he had ordered. She had stayed. Watched.
He crossed to her in three strides and pulled her into his arms.
