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Sophia turned her face back, scrutinizing him. She gave a deep sigh. “I will leave the matter to you, but know that I am here and ready to discuss anything you need to discuss.”

He gave a nod. “First thing is to summon the doctor. Then we should rest.”

She turned her hand to clasp his. “That sounds lovely.”

Richard bathed while they awaited the doctor’s arrival. It soon turned out his face was badly bruised, but his nose was intact. He had suspected this was the case, but he allowed the doctor to be summoned as a small mercy to his wife. She appeared relieved at the doctor’s pronouncement and agreed that it was time to go to bed.

He undressed with the help of Shaw before donning his nightclothes and robe to join Sophia in her chambers. When he entered her rooms and saw her lying in the bed, the light playing across her face and golden-red hair, he experienced a moment of revelation not for the first time since he had met her.

Sophia was an angel. He would do anything to defend this woman, who had come to mean so much to him. He had been a fool when he denied his love to Halmesbury, because in that moment he knew his heart would stop beating in his chest if anything happened to her because of him. Just as he knew, he was not worthy of such a woman. She brought peace and grace to his home, where he had only ever brought fallen women and pursued his own selfish pleasures.

It was no longer about hiding his shame. It had become about proving himself worthy of her so that she might one day grow to love the gentleman he aspired to be and not the rascal he currently was. One day, he would be worthy of the title husband—and father—and until that day came, he would not rest in ensuring he completed his reparations and uncovered the threat that was plaguing their household. This was his duty to take care of, and until he did so, he was not worthy of earning her love.

Mercy! Maybe he needed a drink to clear his head of these maudlin thoughts?

Stuff! No, he was reforming and this small request from his wife was the only one he could currently honor. He must bear the burden of his past actions and soldier on, one step at a time.

His wife raised her head. “Are you coming?”

To his relief, she seemed in a lighter mood than she had been since the predicament at the Drury Lane Theatre. When he approached, she drew a deep breath and blurted out a question.

“Do you think there will be another caricature of what happened with Lord Stanford?”

Richard threw his head back and groaned. “I guess that would be better than the last one. Mayhap it will distract the gossips from Ethan?”

She furrowed her brow in thought. “That is a good point. Well, in that case, I hope there is another print!”

They chuckled together while he disrobed and pulled back the covers to slip into her bed. She turned onto her side, a hand tucked under her cheek. “It is good to laugh about it. I now look forward to another illustration depicting the infamous Balfours.”

Richard smiled softly, pleased to see Sophia so at ease. She had been growing more comfortable in their marriage, and moments like this made him realize how deeply he valued her presence. When she lifted a hand and traced her fingers lightly over his chin, following the contours of his jaw, Richard sighed in contentment.

Her fingers traveled over his bruised face, lingering as if committing them to memory.

Sophia’s sweet tenderness, mixed with the admiration shining in her eyes, called to something deep and primal within him. He stayed still, letting her explore at her leisure, feeling a quiet sense of awe at the tenderness in her touch. This was different from any connection he had experienced before. Her sincerity, her focus on him as a man, filled a space in his heart he hadn’t realized was empty.

Chapter

Fifteen

“Tenderness of heart is the peculiar charm of the female character.”

Dr. John Gregory, A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters

It was early when a sound disturbed Richard from a deep sleep. So early that a single thread of morning light crept through a gap in the draperies.

“Richard?” It was the lowest of whispers floating through the air of the large, quiet bedroom. It sounded like Perry. Richard turned his head in awakening confusion, his eyes bleary from sleep. The connecting door to his rooms was slightly ajar, and a blurry face was peering at him.

“Richard?”

His heart sank. This could not be good. He gave a nod of acknowledgment, and the door closed.

Sitting up in Sophia’s bed, he rubbed his eyes to restore his vision before easing quietly from under the covers. Once he was on his feet, he searched around for his nightshirt and robe. Dressing hurriedly, he crept from the room back to his chambers, opening and closing the door with the greatest of care. He did not wish to disturb Sophia after their distressing evening.

Perry stood at the fireplace, his forearm leaning against the mantel while he waited for Richard to gather his wits.

“What is it?” Richard was afraid to hear the answer, steeling his nerve for what new crisis his brother had come to inform him of.

“I was just returning home when one of the Johns called me into the hall. It would seem that a rock was thrown through the window of your study about thirty minutes ago. The window is shattered, but the servants did not wish to disturb you. You have an injury of some sort, from what I gather?”