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“Oh, that makes more sense.” Perry flashed him a cheeky grin. “I am glad you are still with us, brother.”

He ducked the cushion Richard hurled at him, his laughter trailing as he crossed the room. Taking down the box, he set it on the desk and opened it to retrieve one of the pistols. With careful precision, he prepared and loaded the weapon, then slipped it into the pocket of his overcoat.

With a quick, playful salute, Perry turned and left the room, leaving Richard alone with his thoughts.

After a few minutes contemplating the terror of this night, he stood up to make his way over to the Woods’ residence, his carriage waiting for him when he exited the front door.

When he reached the Mayfair home of Lady Wood, he found Sophia waiting for him alone in a drawing room with an untouched cup of tea on the table in front of her. She jumped up when he entered the room, running over to fling herself into his embrace.

Richard wrapped his arms around her, grateful that she was safe and alive while he rested his cheek on the crown of her head and breathed deeply the scent of roses.

“Richard, I cannot believe what you did. My heart stopped when the two of you tumbled to the floor. I thought you were dead!”

“Who would bring trouble into your life, then?”

Sophia pulled back to look up at him. “The trouble does not concern me. I need you alive.”

Richard let her go, pulling back to walk over and drop onto one of the rickety, elegant sofas, which juddered under his weight. “I do not see why. I have brought nothing but pandemonium and peril into your life. You were more protected before you married me.”

His heart squeezed in agony at the deep silence following his pronouncement. After many moments, he heard her light footsteps approaching. She sat down on the sofa beside him and reached out a hand to cover his.

“We are both exhausted and I can no longer think straight, husband. But please know my relief that you survived is most profound. Could we go home to rest and then we can discuss things in the morning?”

Richard bobbed his head. He could not deny that in the aftermath, his body was heavy with weariness. He had forgotten to rid himself of the jacket, and the smell of blood aggravated his senses.

“How is Lady Wood?”

“She had a strong drink to steady herself, then confided in me,” Sophia said quietly, her voice faltering. “She showed me bruises hidden beneath her garments. Before retiring, she asked me to thank you. She believes you saved her life tonight. Lord Wood had not allowed her to leave their home without him for weeks—she has been trapped in that townhouse since March. Some of the bruises … they were older, and …”

Sophia broke off, her composure wavering under the weight of what she had witnessed.

Richard grimaced, his jaw tightening, and drew her gently into his arms, offering comfort as she fought to steady herself.

“Do not fret, Sophia. I will visit Lady Wood and ensure she is well taken care of. And I will have Johnson look into her circumstances to ensure that proper provisions were made for her. Hopefully, her father negotiated good terms for the eventuality of her bereavement.”

Tears welled to slip down her smooth cheeks. She turned her head into his shoulder and flung her arms around him in a tight embrace. “I am such a watering pot tonight.”

Richard gave her a squeeze and rose to his feet, holding out a hand to her. “Let us go so we can get some rest.”

Sophia clung to Richard the entire night. Each time he stirred, he found her form draped over him in different angles as if she could not bear to let him go. It warmed the depths of his soul where he still sought to come to terms with the fact that he had taken the life of a man he barely knew. Nothing could prepare a man for such an event. However, if he had to do it again, he would not hesitate to protect the woman who was lying in his arms, emitting a bleating snore from the awkward angle her head tilted so that she could nestle into his shoulder.

Carefully unwrapping her arms, he eased her onto her side, ensuring her neck was not cricked. He curved his arm around her sleeping form and went back to sleep, content to lie in bed with Sophia for the entire day if he could.

It was early afternoon when Richard and Sophia finally arose. Dressed in their nightclothes and robes, they ate breakfast from trays at the table near Sophia’s window, too wrung out from the night before to bother with dressing or going downstairs to break their fast.

Once Sophia had swallowed down her eggs, sipped on her tea, and sat quietly contemplating the garden from her window, she broke their deep silence.

“May I see the note now?”

Richard huffed in mild amusement. He swallowed down his toast—he was surprised how ravenous he had been when the meal arrived—before rising to walk into his rooms.

After several minutes of searching, he found the note folded neatly with his things in a drawer of his bureau and returned.

Sitting down across from his wife, he stared at her for a while. She looked beautiful with her tousled red-blonde hair, her large eyes weary but prismatic with striations of light and dark blues reflected in their depths. And, more importantly, she was beauty itself because she was alive.

“I planned to talk with you when you returned last night. I wanted to apologize. Now I find I have more to apologize for.”

“Apologize?”