Papa lifted his brows. “Vining, yes. Apparently, Hillsdale blackmailed Vining to help him cover up what truly happened to Malcolm. Hillsdale didn’t want to get his own hands dirty, so he employed that lackwit Vining to go around bribing doctors and ensuring the right story got into the papers. Vining is in gaol now, too.”
“Good,” Sophie replied. She bit her lip before tentatively asking, “Did General Grimaldi tell you how Malcolm died?”
Papa shuddered, too. “Apparently, Valentina stabbed him in the back. No doubt he allowed her in, thinking of her only as a former lover. It makes sense. Lord Bellingham said the valet mentioned that a woman with dark hair wearing a green cape was seen sneaking down the back staircase the night Malcom Grayson was murdered.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Sophie’s mouth fell open. “Valentina gave me that cape. She told me it looked good on me. I was suspicious at the time. Now I know why.”
Papa’s nostrils flared with anger. “I’m quite certain she would have been only too happy to blame you if she’d thought you were close to discovering the truth.”
“It’s all quite unbelievable,” Sophie replied, shaking her head.
“Yes. And I’m an old fool.” Papa took a deep breath. “I owe you an apology for bringing Valentina into our lives. I nearly ruined your life pairing you with Hugh. Not to mention, I could have lost you.” Papa pulled his handkerchief from his coat pocket with his free hand and dabbed at his eyes.
Sophie pulled her hand from his and patted the top of it. “Thank you for apologizing, Papa,” she said, tears burning her eyes too. “It means a great deal to me.”
Papa continued to dab at his wet eyes. “I love you, Sophia, and I won’t do wrong by you again. As soon as you’re strong enough, I’m taking you away from here. We’ll go to our country estate, where you can recuperate away from this awful family.”
Sophie frowned. “Awful family?”
“The Graysons. Malcolm may have been innocent. But Hugh was a horror and Phillip nearly got you killed taking a bullet meant for him. I’m not about to allow any of them to hurt you ever again.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Phillip was sitting in his study the next day, staring morosely into a bottle of brandy as he drank his third glass of the stuff. Sophie had gone home this morning. She hadn’t even said goodbye, not that Phillip could blame her. He didn’t deserve her consideration. He’d nearly got her killed.
He’d tried to see her, of course. Every day after her father had arrived, he’d hovered outside her bedchamber door, waiting for Sir Roger to give him permission to enter. But that man had made it quite clear from the moment he’d stepped foot in the house that no one was to see Sophie without his express permission—and that permission certainly did not extend to Phillip.
He wouldn’t even speak to Phillip. Instead, Sir Roger insisted upon hearing the story of what had transpired directly from General Grimaldi, who had obviously shared the fact that Valentina had been trying to shoot Phillip when Sophie had jumped in front of the pistol.
With every look, Sir Roger made it clearer that he had absolutely no use for Phillip. And Phillip couldn’t blame him either. Phillip was paying the doctors, however, so he was at least aware of Sophie’s progress. According to Dr. Morrison, she was healing nicely, and all hints of infection had gone. Her fever had broken, and Sophie was officially on the mend.
Phillip had never experienced such overwhelming relief. Not even when his speech had returned in Devon. But a sennight after her father arrived, she was gone.
He’d had words with Sir Roger, of course, before the man left. He’d asked one last time to visit Sophie, to say goodbye, and had once again been denied. “Sophia doesn’t want to see you, Your Grace,” Sir Roger had finally told him. “She’s never asked for you. She wants to leave immediately.”
Those words had felt like daggers in Phillip’s heart, but no matter how painful it was, he would respect Sophie’s wishes. She obviously blamed him for her condition, and she had every right to. There had been no promises between them. No plans for the future. They may have spent one heavenly night in each other’s arms, but he’d been an arse and told her he would not promise her more. What else was she left to think? No. Phillip didn’t blame Sophie for never wanting to see him again. He blamed himself.
A soft knock was followed by the study door cracking open and Bell sticking in his head.
“Looking for company?” Bell asked.
“No,” Phillip growled. “I want to be alone right now. Besides, I thought you went back to London with Grim.”
“I wanted to talk to you,” Bell replied.
“Go away,” Phillip growled again.
“I’ll take that as a welcome. It’s as good as I’m likely to get,” Bell said with a grin, pushing open the door and coming to sit on the opposite side of Phillip’s desk.
“Don’t you dare tell me not to drink,” Phillip told him, pouring himself more brandy.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Bell replied.
Phillip sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. Then you may stay.” At least Bell could distract him from his thoughts of Sophie. “Any news of the prisoners?”
“Yes. They’re all in gaol. Hillsdale, Valentina, and Vining are in the Tower, and Hugh and the other two men are in Newgate.”
“Ah, Hugh’s not in the Tower because he is no longer a duke,” Phillip said with a smirk.
