Chapter 13 #3
The prints were coming out too quickly to be anything else but calculated attacks.
If this mysterious enemy wanted to attack Richard, he could do so.
He could call him out for a meeting at dawn.
He could demand reparations for Richard’s sins.
But there could be no excusing the blackguard for threatening his new family.
Until this moment, he had believed the threatening note from the musicale was intended to target Sophia, but this print proved that the mystery perpetrator was aware of Ethan, too.
Which meant the note was a warning aimed at both his wife and his son.
Whoever this man was, Richard wanted his blood.
Once Richard’s anger cooled sufficiently, he retrieved the print and went to find Sophia.
Just as before, there could be no hiding it because she would soon learn of its existence in a manner that could wreak more havoc.
He resolved to show her it to her and then inform her about the note.
This situation was becoming as dangerous as he had feared when he initially read it.
The duke was correct. It was time to tell Sophia the full truth, so she would be prepared to defend herself.
It took him a while to track Sophia down, but he eventually found her in the nursery, reading a story to Ethan.
The boy was enraptured, staring at Sophia with a besotted expression on his young face.
Richard understood how the boy felt because he, too, was experiencing it.
She felt like home, with her calm presence, and her endless well of patience and concern for himself and the boy.
He could not believe his fortune in stumbling onto the terrace to hear her parody of his morals.
The chance encounter had changed his life, abruptly, to one worth living.
Sophia’s blue eyes found him standing at the door, listening to her tale. A single blink was the only sign that she noticed something was amiss. Gently, she ended in the middle of the story and promised Ethan they would read the rest together soon before she extricated herself to exit the rooms.
Richard offered her his arm, which she took, and they walked down the stairs to the library. The room was long and narrow, with shelves of books towering up to the tall ceilings. Sophia never said a word, just waited for him to speak when they took a seat at one of several library tables.
“What is it?” she finally asked in a quiet voice when he failed to speak.
“My man of business brought me another print.”
Sophia looked relieved. “Is that all? I thought something serious had happened.”
Richard handed her the print he was holding. He hoped she would find the humor in it as she had done before.
She took it from him and looked down. She was deathly quiet for some time. Suddenly, she exploded to her feet in a shriek of rage, knocking over her chair. “How dare they!”
Richard clamored to his feet, rounding the table to calm her, but she broke into a storm of agitated pacing. “How dare they! He is a child. This is unforgivable!” She spun to glower at him. “You must do something! Sue them … or … or purchase their shop and tear down the presses!”
Richard felt panic descending when he saw her blue eyes awash with angry tears.
His dear wife was frantic in her desire to protect his son, whom she had only just met days before.
He felt like such a cad. He knew he could never tell her about the shameful note and how he put not only her sought-after security at risk with his past misdeeds, but he had jeopardized the safety of his tiny child with his actions, too. She was correct. It was unforgivable.
He must make it right. She could not be forced to live with the burden of fear he now carried with him while he fought to protect his wife and child.
It was clear he would need to keep the note to himself, but he would hire every runner in London if he had to.
He would make this right and protect them.
He hurried over to fold her in his arms. She was quivering with rage and grief, dropping her head on his shoulder and sobbing in earnest. For the first time, Richard found himself comforting her, which was a novel experience.
“Sophia, I will make it right,” he promised in a soothing voice, gently stroking her back.
“He is a child! A tiny, innocent little boy,” she wept.
“I know, love. I will take care of it. Whoever is behind this will regret it.” Her gasping sobs eased and her trembling body slowly relaxed into his arms while he continued to calm her with soft assurances.
Richard felt a deep pang of guilt for the situation he had caused, but he knew he must keep his promise to protect those he cared about.
The print shops selling the illustration were of little concern to him now.
No, his focus was on uncovering the instigator.
His gut told him this was no random scandal but a deliberate campaign of malice, driven by a single, vengeful individual.
The individual may have just cause to pursue him in this manner, but there was no excuse for attacking his wife and child who were innocent of wrongdoing. He would find the man and tear his beating heart out of his chest, before displaying it to the worthless, dying bounder.