“I hope not. It feels so good to be free of their stares, if only for a few moments,” Sophie replied, reluctantly pulling her arm from his and placing her hands on the cool stone balustrade to keep them occupied.
“I agree,” Phillip replied.
“That was daring of you,” she continued, watching him from the corners of her eyes. “The Phillip I used to know wouldn’t court such scandal.”
Phillip leaned down, his forearms braced against the balustrade. He stared off into the darkened gardens behind the house. “The Phillip you used to know hadn’t faced death,” he said quietly.
Sophie sucked in a breath and nodded slowly. “Of course.” She bit her lip and ventured on the topic she hadn’t dared mention until now. “How badly were you injured…in battle?” She stared expectantly at the side of his face, hoping the story wasn’t too awful for him to recall.
He remained silent for several moments before saying, “Quite badly. I survived, but…” He bowed his head and stared at the stone beneath his boots.
“But what?” she prompted, not wanting to cause him painful memories but desperately wanting more detail about the time he’d been gone.
“The truth is…” He lifted his head and met her gaze. Pain shone in his green eyes. “I was going to say…not for the Frenchmen’s lack of trying.”
Sophie turned and looked at him. She could tell that he’d wanted to say something else and had obviously thought better of it. She couldn’t help herself. She reached out and laid a hand on his sleeve. “What happened, Phillip?”
He leaned down and bowed his head. Then he took a deep breath. “I was shot off my horse. Left to die on the battlefield.”
“No!” Sophie breathed, shaking her head.
“I was found two days later by a pair of soldiers scouring the field for anything of value.”
Sophie gasped and her hand flew to her neck. “That’s hideous.”
“That’s war,” he replied soberly. “I was only fortunate it was English soldiers who found me. Not the French. Or I’d have been run through with a bayonet. I had to keep silent until I could see their uniforms and knew they were ours.”
Sophie took a deep breath and tried to banish that awful thought from her mind before asking quietly, “What happened to you…after they found you?”
Phillip straightened up and lifted his gaze toward the dark treetops. “The ball went all the way through my right shoulder.”
Sophie swallowed and shook her head. Her throat ached.
“After I fell,” Phillip continued, “I had broken ribs, blood loss. Then there was the lack of water. Later, the infection nearly killed me. I was sick for…”
“Months,” Sophie finished for him, clutching at his sleeve. She knew it had been months because he’d been gone that long. She reveled in the feel of his pulse beneath her fingers, knowing that he was truly standing here next to her, alive and well. This wasn’t a dream. “I’m sorry, Phillip. Sorry that happened to you, but I’m not sorry you’re back now.”
He didn’t look at her, just continued to stare silently out at the night.
Sophie swallowed hard. The ache in her chest spread to her throat. The way he’d said the words, the quiet pain in his voice. Until this moment, she hadn’t truly considered how bad off he might have really been. She’d only been angry that he had returned, looking fit as a fiddle without having ever written to let her know he was alive. It had been selfish and short-sighted of her.
“I should have died out there,” Phillip finally said. “I was broken.”
“No,” she said quietly, but forcefully. “Don’t say that. Please never say that.” And then, to change the subject a bit, she said, “Where did you recover? Spain?” Her voice was too high and sounded far too bright, as if she was asking him about a holiday instead of a crisis that nearly took his life.
“No. Once they knew I was alive, Lord Bellingham came for me. Seems the son of a duke gets special treatment, regardless of whether he wants it.”
“Where did you go?” she asked, frowning.
“Clayton’s estate…in Devon.”
“That’s where you were all these months?” she breathed. It all made sense now. No wonder Phillip seemed so close to both Lord and Lady Clayton.
Phillip nodded.
“If it’s any consolation,” Sophie said, desperately trying to lighten the mood, “the papers claimed you died a hero.”
The hint of a smile tugged at his lips, but his expression remained blank. “There is nothing heroic about war.”
