Chapter 16 #3
Richard’s heart skipped a beat. Sophia was here? Of course! That was why the shorter John was unconscious on the floor.
“But”—the man whirled on Lady Wood, shouting directly in her face—“you are not a goose! Men may stray, but women are expected to behave!” he roared, his voice echoing through the room.
Lady Wood seemed unresponsive, her expression frozen as though she had slipped into a state of shock.
Suddenly, Richard’s perspective shifted, allowing him to see past the couple’s clasped figures, now slightly parted. Standing stoically on the bottom stair, Sophia came into view, her gaze fixed not on the furious Lord Wood, but on the ornate dueling pistol clutched in his hand.
Blood thundered in Richard’s ears and his eyes riveted to the pistol Lord Wood waved about while he ranted at his pale wife. With sharpened focus, he noted that the lord’s bloated index finger rested on the side of the barrel, not the trigger, which meant Richard could attempt to disarm him.
One step at a time, Richard.
“Fortunately for me, a friend informed me of what was happening. Did you know that Lord Saunton was reportedly seen sneaking into my home last evening? All that talk of the rogue being reformed—nonsense, pure nonsense! Men may stray! It is simply what we do!”
He puffed up indignantly, his voice rising with each word. “We marry respectable women to bear our children, and we visit others for amusement. It is a system that has stood the test of time! It works!”
The man’s ranting was despicable. Despite the danger of the moment, Richard could not help but be repulsed that he had once thought of women and relationships with a similar disgusting attitude as this vile reprobate who aimed a weapon at innocent people.
Never had it been more clear that walking away from his past immorality was the correct decision. The only decision.
Slowly, Richard inched forward. If anything happened to Sophia because of his own debauched behavior with the unhappily married Lady Wood, he would find no redemption for his wicked soul.
Damnation, what if his wife was killed tonight believing that he had engaged in an illicit affair after their wedding, rather than six months before he had even met her?
He must save her because Ethan needed her. He needed her. He must save his wife!
Richard approached the dimly lit spot behind the couple. Lord Wood was in the midst of shaking Lady Wood, whose cracked lip was bleeding from an earlier blow.
Radcliffe’s eyes flickered, noting Richard’s arrival. His wonderful, clever butler imperceptibly straightened and lifted his chin, clearly steeling his nerves and preparing to divert Lord Wood’s attention.
“My lord, perhaps a calm discussion might?—”
“SHUT UP!”
“But, I assure you?—”
“You speak again and I will end you, you insufferable serf?!”
Radcliffe’s ploy to distract the irate husband from Richard’s approach succeeded as he crept up behind the couple.
Fortunately, the angle of the light thrown by the chandelier above was in his favor, so no shadow announced his arrival.
At this proximity, the raving nobleman reeked of hard liquor, which offered some explanation for his unbalanced behavior.
Verifying that Lord Wood’s finger was still resting on the barrel, Richard spoke behind his ear.
“I believe you are looking for me?” Simultaneously, he swung his clenched fist down on the man’s pistol-wielding right arm.
Sophia immediately swung herself around the curving banister and dropped to her haunches behind the staircase.
Radcliffe stood hesitant, plainly unsure whether to retreat or leap forward to help, while Lord Wood was so startled that he released his wife.
Lady Wood crumpled into a heap but still possessed enough presence of mind to crawl away to where the butler hailed her toward him.
All of these events occurred in mere seconds, but Richard observed the scene with the same eerie calm, perceiving the position of every actor in the unfolding melodrama concurrently with the heightened focus that descended on him when it was time for him to spring into action.
He fought for control of the weapon now pointed down between them in Lord Wood’s hand, while Richard gripped the barrel.
He was younger and fitter, but the beefy lord he was wrestling had the advantage of mass and a large, powerful grip.
Lord Wood was renowned at their pugilistic club for packing a devastating punch—Richard knew he must avoid the man’s club fists while fighting for control of the firearm.
If the unthinkable happened and he lost … the damned weapon would only be loaded with one bullet, so Radcliffe and Sophia could protect themselves in the event of his demise.
Perry will take care of my family if he must assume the title, was his last coherent thought as the two of them stumbled and Richard took a ringing punch to the side of his head, holding on to the barrel of the pistol like his life depended on it while his vision spotted from the blow.