"Elizabeth was incapable of loving anyone. She married Ravenwood to secure a good position and all the money she needed." Sophy edged away from him on her hands and knees. She dared not rise to her feet for fear Waycott would pull the rope again. "She kept you dangling on her puppet strings because you amused her. Nothing more."
"That's not true, damn you. I was the best lover she'd ever taken to her bed. She told me so." Waycott lurched to one side and stopped. He dropped the rope and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his free hand. "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing's wrong, my lord."
"Something is wrong. I don't feel right." His hand dropped from his eyes and he tried to focus on her. "What did you do to me, you bitch?"
"Nothing, my lord."
"You poisoned me. You put something in my tea, didn't you? I'll kill you for this."
He lunged at Sophy who leapt to her feet and stumbled blindly out of his path. Waycott fetched up against the stone wall near the hearth. The pistol fell, unnoticed from his hand and landed with a small clinking sound in the basket that had held the food.
Waycott turned his head to locate Sophy, his eyes wild with fury and the inevitable effects of the drug.
"I'll kill you. Just as I killed Elizabeth. You deserve to die, just as she did. Oh, God, Elizabeth." He leaned against the stone wall, shaking his head in a vain effort to clear it. "Elizabeth, how could you do this to me? You loved me." Waycott began to slide slowly down the wall, sobbing. "You always said you loved me."
Sophy watched with horrified fascination as Waycott cried himself into a deep slumber.
"Murderer," she breathed, her pulse leaping with rage. "You killed my sister. As surely as if you had put a gun to her head, you killed her."
Her eyes flew to the basket on the hearth. She knew how to use a pistol and Waycott deserved to die. With an anguished sob she ran to the basket and looked down. The pistol lay atop the glittering emeralds. Sophy leaned over and scooped up the small weapon.
Holding it in both hands she whirled about to point the pistol at the unconscious Waycott.
"You deserve to die," she repeated aloud and released the pistol from its half-cocked position. The trigger, which was designed to fit into a small recess for safety's sake, dropped into firing position and Sophy's finger closed hungrily around it.
She stepped closer to Waycott, her mind summoning up the image of Amelia lying on her bed, an empty bottle of laudanum on the table beside her.
"I will kill you, Waycott. This is simple justice."
For an endless moment Sophy hovered on the brink, willing herself to pull the trigger. But it was no good. She could not find the courage to do it. With a wrenching cry of despair she lowered the pistol, returning it to the half-cocked position. "Dear God, why am I so weak?"
She put the pistol back into the basket and knelt to fumble with the rope around her ankle. Her fingers shook but she managed to free herself. She could not take the emeralds or the pistol back to Ravenwood. There would be no way to explain them.
Without a backward glance she opened the door and ran out into the night. Waycott's horse nickered softly as she approached.
"Easy, my friend. I have no time to put a saddle on you," Sophy whispered as she fitted the bridle onto the gelding. "We must hurry. Everyone will be frantic at the Abbey."
She led the gelding over to a pile of rubble that had once been a fortified wall. Standing on the heap of stones, she adjusted her skirts above her knees and scrambled up onto the horse's back. The animal snorted and danced and then accepted her unfamiliar presence.
"Do not worry, friend, I know the route to the Abbey." Sophy urged the horse into a walk and then into a gentle canter.
As she rode, she tried to think. She had to have an explanation ready for the worried staff who would be waiting for her. She remembered the sound of her mare's hoof beats disappearing into the distance when Waycott had kidnapped her. Her horse had apparently run off and would undoubtedly have gone straight home.
A riderless horse returning to Ravenwood Abbey would mean only one thing to the stable lads. They would assume Sophy had been thrown and, perhaps, injured. Search parties would have been combing the woods around the Abbey all afternoon and evening.
It was as good a story as any, Sophy decided as she guided Waycott's horse around the pond. She certainly could not tell anyone she had been kidnapped and held captive by the Viscount Waycott.
She dared not even tell Julian the full story for she knew that Waycott had been wrong when he claimed the Earl would not engage in another duel over a woman. Julian would call Waycott out if he discovered what the Viscount had done.
Damn. I should have killed Waycott myself when I had the chance. Now there is no telling what lies ahead. And I shall be forced to lie to Julian.
She was so dreadfully inept at lying, Sophy thought fearfully. But at least she would have time to prepare her tale and learn it by heart. Julian was still safely away in London.
It was not until she saw the lights of the Abbey through the trees that Sophy realized she would have to abandon Waycott's gelding. If she was going to claim she had struggled home on foot after a riding accident she could not show up on a strange horse.
Dear heaven, there was a lot to be considered once one started conjuring tales. One thing led to another.
Reluctantly, because she still had a long walk ahead of her, Sophy slid to the ground and turned the gelding loose. A slap on the rump sent it cantering off down the path.
Sophy picked up the hem of her riding habit and started walking quickly toward Ravenwood Abbey. Every step of the way she cudgeled her brain, trying to put a believable story together for the waiting servants. She must have every bit of the tale in place or she would surely trip herself up.
But as she stepped out of the woods that surrounded the great house, Sophy realized she had a much bigger task ahead of her than she had anticipated.
Light spilled from the open doors of the front hall. Footmen and stable lads scurried about readying torches and in the moonlight Sophy saw that several saddled horses were being led from the stables.
A familiar dark-haired figure in riding boots and stained breeches stood halfway up the left staircase. Julian was issuing orders in a cold, clear voice to those around him.
It was obvious he had just arrived which meant he had left London before dawn.
Sophy knew real panic in that moment. She had been finding it difficult enough to organize a story for the servants who would be bound to believe anything she told them. But she was very much afraid she was in no condition to lie convincingly to her husband.
And Julian had always claimed he would be able to tell if she tried to deceive him.
She had no choice but to make the attempt, Sophy told herself bracingly as she started forward again. She could not allow Julian to risk his life in a duel over her honor.
"There she be, my lord."
"Aye, thank the good God, 'tis safe she is."
"My lord, my lord, look, over there at the edge of the woods. It be my lady and she's safe."
The loud cries of heartfelt relief brought everyone around to the front of the house as Sophy walked out of the woods. She wondered with a sort of wretched amusement how much of the relief her staff felt was occasioned by the fact that they had been forced to explain her absence to Julian.
The Earl of Ravenwood swung his gaze instantly toward the trees and saw Sophy in the moonlight. Without a word he loped down the stone staircase and crossed the cobbled yard to catch her roughly in his arms.
"Sophy. By God, you have nearly killed me with worry. Where the devil have you been? Are you all right? Are you hurt? I could thrash you for terrifying me so. What happened to you?"
Even as she reminded herself of the ordeal that lay ahead of her, a tumultuous sense of relief poured through Sophy. Julian was here and she was safe. Nothing else mattered just then. Instinctively she huddled into his strong embrace, leaning her head against his shoulder. Her arms tightened convulsively around his waist. He smelled of sweat and she knew he had driven himself as hard as he must have driven Angel.