Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
“The most sacred friendship is that which is formed between persons of different sexes; the tender and delicate union of love and friendship.”
Dr. John Gregory, A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters
Ashot rang out.
Sophia screamed in fear and clamped her hands over her ears. Then she scolded herself for being a scared little mouse, stiffened her resolve, and carefully peered around the curving banister of the staircase, which afforded a little protection.
Both men were prone on the floor, Lord Wood on top of her beloved Richard. Please, she prayed, please let Richard be unhurt. Neither man moved. Were they both dead? Panic clawed at the thought that her wonderful, foolish husband might be gone.
Slowly, she reached behind her onto a table to grab a vase as an impromptu weapon and then, crouching down, she scampered over to where they lay.
Lord Wood rolled off Richard, and Sophia panicked, her eyes filling with tears until she realized it was Richard who had pushed the large man off, causing him to roll as if he were still alive.
She wept in relief, taking in Lord Wood’s sightless eyes and blood seeping through the gold brocade of his waistcoat.
Richard scrambled to his knees to grasp Sophia in a hard embrace while she sobbed out her relief into his shoulder, the vase she held in her hand trapped uncomfortably between their bodies.
Sophia gasped. “You are hurt!” she exclaimed, touching his blood-soaked jacket.
“Nay, it is Lord Wood’s blood. Sophia, my love, I must take care of Lady Wood. Can you be strong for me while I check on her?” Sophia realized she was still sobbing. Calming herself, she nodded.
He let her go and crawled over the few feet to where Lady Wood lay near Radcliffe, who had collapsed in a stupor. His butler noticed Richard’s arrival and exhaled in deep relief. “My lord.”
“Are you all right, Radcliffe?”
“Just a little dazed. I will collect myself back together, my lord.”
“Take your time, Radcliffe. This is not a typical evening.”
The butler bobbed his head, drawing in a deep breath while Richard turned his attention to the slight form.
“Evaline?” He touched the trembling woman on her shoulder and she flinched, cowering in a huddle.
“Evaline? Are you all right?” She shuddered and then looked up at him.
“It is over?” she whispered, her eyes unfocused and her face as pale as a white sheet.
“Yes,” Richard assented. “But, my lady, Lord Wood … I am afraid … he is no longer with us.”
She stared up at him with empty eyes until, in a hollow voice, she replied, “I could do with a strong drink, if I may?”
“I will take you to my study in a moment, as soon as I check on John over there.”
Sophia watched her husband move over to the shorter John, carefully turning him over from the position he had fallen in after Lord Wood surprised him with a blow to the head with the pistol.
The guardsman mumbled, to her relief, opening his eyes to look up into the earl’s face.
He bore a nasty gash on his temple that was bleeding profusely, and his gaze skittered about.
“Your lordship?”
“Yes, it is I. Radcliffe is calling for a doctor.” Richard glanced over to the servant, who gave a quick nod and clamored to his feet.
Sophia dried her eyes, taking pride in the man she had married. Her heart had nearly stopped when her husband hurled into Lord Wood, but he had succeeded in his heroic antics and now ensured the well-being of each person, despite the ordeal he had just faced.
Richard had just saved her life.
And killed a man.
Richard placed his wife and Lady Wood in a carriage to return to the Woods’ residence, promising to follow the two women later.
Then he dispatched footmen to dig Perry out of whichever club he was gambling in that evening in his bid to gather intelligence.
Finally, Richard sent for the authorities.
When the Bow Street Runners arrived, he informed the grim-faced strangers that Lord Wood and himself had been playing cards together the day before and that Lord Wood had shown up that evening to accuse him of cheating before attempting to shoot him.
Richard had been forced to wrestle him for his pistol, and the man was killed in the ensuing struggle.
Fortunately, Richard outranked the dead peer who had a reputation for drinking, an irascible temper, and violence with his fists.
He recalled hearing of the man brandishing a pistol at a prize fight sometime in the past year, so he had high hopes that his version of events would protect Evaline over the coming days.
Radcliffe told the same story, forgoing any mention that the two women had been present and altering the accusations the lord had thrown to mumblings about a game of cards. Richard knew he could trust the longtime family servant to never speak on the matter.
The shorter John had been unconscious from the moment Lord Wood knocked him out with a crack to the head with the pistol the peer brandished after the couple had gained entry to the entrance hall.
When the runners questioned the undercover guardsman, he corroborated that Lord Wood had been out of control upon gaining entrance to Balfour Terrace.
Richard worried if his story was weak, only having had a half hour to prepare it and gain Radcliffe’s cooperation, but the runners appeared to accept what he said.
Apparently, they were aware that Lord Wood was infamous for routing and fighting.
The decoy tale was the least he could do to aid Lady Wood.
Perry arrived moments before the coroner. His brother was pale when he stepped through the front door, his eyes resting on the corpse before he strode over to Richard and grabbed him into a firm embrace.
“You daft cretin, you nearly got yourself killed!” His younger brother’s sardonic ennui was not in evidence, his voice gruff with distress.
“Just think, you could have inherited an earldom tonight.” Richard’s jest was halfhearted, his tone sounding thick to his ears.
“Faugh, that would have been awful! Please promise me you will sire an heir soon. I have no wish to shoulder the responsibilities you carry. How will I find time to spend my allowance and frolic my days away?”
Richard chuckled, releasing his brother. “I am working on it.”
They sat on the stairs while the coroner investigated the scene. Richard answered his questions and then, finally, the body was removed and his brother joined him in the study.
Perry made for the sideboard, poured two drinks, and walked back to where Richard sat in one of the plump armchairs to stare sightlessly into the hearth.
“Here, drink this.”
“No, I am no longer drinking.”
“Make an exception. You have just taken a man’s life, and you look dreadful.”
Richard hung his head, bringing up a hand to rub his face in despair. “I killed a man.”
“Drink, brother. You are in shock.”
Richard took the tumbler and downed the brandy in a few gulps.
Warmth spread through his chilled body, and he noticed Perry was correct.
Shock had rendered his limbs cold and sweaty, while his pulse fired too rapidly and his breathing was too shallow.
As the spirits spread through his system, his body eased and he became more aware of his surroundings.
“I killed a man,” he whispered.
“I only pointed that out so you would accept the liquor. I think you should focus on the fact that you saved someone’s life tonight. That bullet was inevitably going to find its way into one of the people present. All things considered, the right person was on the receiving end of that shot.”
“I doubt his wife would agree.”
“I am certain his wife would agree. Lord Wood was notorious for using his fists to settle disputes. Do you not think his wife suffered under his temper as well? Nay, I believe she turned to you last year for a reason, and you may have freed her from the confines of a difficult, perhaps even unbearable, marriage. Is he the behind all your troubles?”
Richard’s hopes soared at the possibility before sinking like a stone into a pond.
“Nay, when I first arrived on the scene, he ranted that a friend informed him they saw me sneaking into his residence last night.”
“He claimed you are currently carrying on an affair? Good heavens! I can scarcely recall a time you have left Balfour Terrace since you married the countess. I must say, I am thoroughly impressed with Lady Saunton’s resilience. Any other woman would be utterly exhausted by now.”
Richard glared at his brother, who threw up his hands in surrender. “I shall not mention the countess or her resilience again, but clearly your hidden villain has struck once more. What are we doing to end this living nightmare?”
Richard leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands to ponder the question. “Lord Stanford knows the man’s identity. He refused to name the scoundrel out of misguided honor.”
Perry sprang to his feet, his jaw set with determination. “I will find Lord Stanford and compel him to reveal the identity of this troublemaker—even if it means dragging him out of Lady Partridge’s den of impropriety and beating it out from him.”
Richard thought about it, then nodded. “Take one of the barking irons with you.” He gestured to the carved walnut box that housed his pistols on a top shelf.
Perry frowned in puzzlement. “I was not planning to kill the man or call him out.”
Richard groaned. “For protection, you bird-wit! You will carry one and I the other until we settle this matter.”
“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.