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She reached forward and grabbed his hands in hers. “I am so happy you found the right woman and that you finally found your way. I always knew you had it in you, Richard. You are a great man who influences many. I want you to live a long and happy life⁠—”

“CECIL!” At Sophia’s cry, Richard and the duchess froze. The sound of someone running could be heard.

Richard burst out of the stall just in time to see his wife throw herself at the legs of a groom, wrapping her arms tightly around his knees and bringing him crashing to the hard-packed earth with a loud thud.

The man, enraged, swung his arm back and struck Sophia across the face. She reeled from the blow but clung tightly to him, her determination unwavering.

A surge of fury rose in Richard’s chest at the sight. Roaring with anger, he sprinted forward, throwing himself onto the man and pinning him to the ground. “John!” he bellowed, calling for the guard as rage pulsed through his veins.

Unable to contain himself, Richard delivered a sharp blow to the man’s side.

How dare he lay a hand on my countess?

He heard John’s hurried footsteps approaching as his own fists continued to drive home the message: no one harms his wife without answering for it.

“Your lordship, stop! I am here. Let me take hold of the man.” Richard could barely hear the guardsman as blind outrage made him pull his arm back to throw another punch.

“Richard!” Sophia’s voice penetrated his frenzied haze. Richard froze. His heart beat loudly in his ears while he slowly unclenched his fist. He used that hand to push himself up and look back.

Sophia was sitting on the blackguard’s legs. The sight of disheveled hair and her split lip, with a trickle of blood running down her chin, broke his heart—until he noticed that her face, her eyes, her skin were glowing. She was incandescent with unbound joy.

“Richard! I caught him! I tackled him to the ground!”

Richard reached over to wipe the blood off her chin, feeling reverence at the bravery of his young wife. He realized why she was so overjoyed—she had just bested the bully that tortured her these past several years. “You did, my love. I take it this is your brother?”

“Of course!” He forced back a smile at her wounded affront. “I do not make a habit of tackling strangers.”

The taller John helped him hold the struggling man by the arms so they could turn him over. Richard reached down and pulled off the low-slung hat to reveal red-blond hair and defiant bloodshot eyes. The brother showed evidence of hard drinking, his face ruddy and his congested skin webbed with spider veins. For such a young man, his appearance was bloated and unhealthy.

Richard grinned with grim determination. “Mr. Hayward, I spent the day looking for you.”

Who would have imagined that visiting his own stables to deliver the long-overdue apology would fortuitously lead to the capture of his foe? It was fitting somehow that the two events converged in such a manner. By accepting responsibility for his past, fate dictated that he solve his present troubles.

Now the scourge of their household was trussed to a chair in a little-used drawing room. The cursing man tugged at the ties in a futile attempt to leave while being guarded by the two Johns and Radcliffe.

“He certainly has a fixation on coin,” commented the duke in a dry tone.

It was as if Hayward overheard the remark; the cursing increased in volume. “I do not see why that witch should receive all the money and advantages! She leaves nothing for me!”

Annabel, the duke, Perry, Sophia, and Richard stood on the far end of the large drawing room, huddled in a group to discuss what to do while pointedly ignoring the brother’s spitting vitriol.

Only Perry glared at the scoundrel. “I knew it! I knew he must have been observing Balfour Terrace! Who would have thought such a spoilt young man would take a post working as a groom? He must be quite dedicated to ruining this household!”

Sophia shook her head in disbelief. “He could be angry that I tattled to my uncle about his plot. Or he is simply enraged to be thwarted in his plans to exploit my inheritance. He seemed to think he had some right to the funds, so that might fuel his petty anger.”

Richard nodded in agreement. “The stable master said one of the grooms disappeared the afternoon of the wedding—hopefully because your brother paid him off and not for more sinister reasons—and that Hayward showed up early the next morning with references, which I assume are faked. Or written by his cronies. He has been right under our noses the entire time.”

Halmesbury’s deep baritone interjected. “Yet somehow he found the time to sneak off to rile up Lord Stanford and Lord Wood.”

“How intrepid of him. If he put half that energy into making a respectable living, he would have done well for himself,” Annabel observed.

“Be that as it may, what do we do now?” Sophia’s question made them all pause.

Minutes ticked by without any suggestions offered. Richard sifted through ideas in his head but came up with nothing worth offering out loud.

“We could have him jailed,” Perry finally ventured.

“There is no evidence that he broke the law. The only offense we can prove is he provided false references, and an assumed name, but I would not want to take my chances that he goes to prison for a short time and then returns angrier to seek vengeance for having him arrested,” Richard reasoned.