“And what?” She searched his face. “You must tell me, Phillip. What happened to you? What was so bad to make you think you’re unworthy of my love?”
Phillip hung his head. Then he took her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. “My illness…it wasn’t just physical.” He took a deep breath. “There was something wrong with my mind as well.” He lifted his head again to see her reaction.
Her brow was furrowed. “Your mind? What do you mean?”
Phillip took another deep breath. His lungs hurt. His heart hurt. This was it. It was time to tell Sophie the entire truth. She was correct. She deserved it. She had always deserved it. “I couldn’t speak. I had constant dreams of bloodshed and battlefields. I still have them, Sophie. I can’t escape them.”
Pain slashed across her features as Sophie lifted a hand and placed it on his cheek. “Oh, Phillip,” she breathed. “I’m sorry.”
He lifted his gaze toward the ceiling, shaking his head. “I couldn’t return to Society that way, and I wasn’t certain I would ever recover. I stayed away. I let everyone think I was dead.”
More pain flashed across Sophie’s pretty face. “That’s what you didn’t want to tell me?”
He nodded. “I was afraid you’d think I’d gone mad. Who would want to marry a man who couldn’t speak? I…I was no longer the same man you met three years ago. I never will be. The war…changed me. There’s no telling whether it might happen again.”
She pulled her hand away from his cheek, wrapped her arms around his neck again, and hugged him tightly. “I still would have wanted to marry you, Phillip. I promise you.”
His eyes stung with unshed tears, but he hugged her back, saying, “It isn’t normal to be unable to speak. It was…mortifying. If I had been stronger, I—”
Sophie pulled away from him, but grabbed both of his hands and squeezed them. She looked him straight in the eye. “Phillip, you saw the worst things imaginable. You nearly died. You’re not mad…you’re human. You simply needed time. You still need time.”
More tears pricked the back of Phillip’s eyes. Pain and regret slashed through his chest. He should have known that Sophie, his darling Sophie, would accept whatever shortcomings he had. She had never let him down before. Which made it even worse that he’d ever doubted her. “I’ll never be able to forgive myself,” he breathed. “For so many things…”
She searched his face. “What? What other things?”
He took another deep breath. His next words would be the most difficult he’d ever spoken in his life. He had never said them aloud before. Not to Clayton, not to Bell, not even to Thea. Phillip hung his head and clenched his jaw. His voice was raw. “If I’d had the strength to face what had happened to me…if I hadn’t broken…Malcolm would still be alive.”
“What?” Sophie continued to search his face, confusion written all over her features. “What do you mean, Phillip? You cannot possibly truly believe that.”
Phillip took another painful breath. He swallowed hard. “Hugh obviously killed Malcolm to gain the title because he believed I was already dead. And I let him believe it by being too weak to come forward.”
“What? No!” Sophie replied, shaking her head so vehemently her curls bounced. Horror and denial were combined on her face. She squeezed both of his hands again. “Phillip, you cannot blame yourself. You had every right to take the time to heal the way you needed to from the atrocities you experienced. You’re not responsible for the actions of another. How could you ever think that?”
Phillip closed his eyes and clasped Sophie’s hands with his more tightly. An unfamiliar feeling of relief swept through him. What Sophie said made sense. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a modicum of peace. He’d never considered it that way before. He’d been far too preoccupied with his guilt. “Thank you, Sophie. I think I’ve needed to hear that for quite a long time.” He tugged her into another hug and whispered into her ear, “Thank you for helping me to see the world differently. You’ve always been good at that.”
“You’re welcome.” They kissed once more before Sophie pulled away and asked, “Now. Do you think Lord Vining will be the Jackal?”
“Are you trying to distract me, Miss?” he asked with a laugh.
“Yes,” she replied, smiling.
“I don’t know if Vining is the Jackal or the man upstairs.” Phillip rubbed his jaw. “I suppose we’ll find out in the morning.”
“Speaking of the morning,” Sophie continued, “you seem awfully certain and calm for someone who is about to be killed.”
A half-grin, half-guilty look stretched across Phillip’s face. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet.”
Sophie arched a brow. “What’s that?”
“I know a secret way out of this cellar.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sophie jumped up, nearly stumbling off the cot. “You know a way to get out of here?” she nearly shouted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Phillip winced and bit his lip. “Two reasons. First, the way out is a very tight space.”
He watched as Sophie frowned at that news.
