Page 83 of A Bride for the Heartless Duke
“You—”
“I was faithful to my wife, and she brought her own demise upon herself,” Nicholas interrupted passionately. “I did not force her to get into that carriage, and I certainly did not encourage her to leave to quite possibly go back to her secret lover. That washerchoice. You cannot blame me for that. And even if you did, harming her daughter—the daughter of a woman you undoubtedly loved too—all for the sake of your petty revenge is too far.”
Sherborne ground his teeth menacingly. “Nothing else would have hurt you so much.”
“What did you intend to do with her once you had her? Surely you knew I would not let the matter rest. I would have chased you down to the ends of the earth to get Sophia back, and you knew that. You also knew you’d be hanged for your troubles. So why?”
“I have contacts,” Sherborne answered, his voice sulky. “I could have evaded capture.”
Nicholas doubted it; if he had all the connections he claimed, he would not have been caught so easily. Nor would he have started this entire blackmail ruse all on his own and come to Winchester Manor in broad daylight, by himself, to kidnap the daughter of a duke.
“You saw I was in York,” Nicholas murmured, remembering seeing Sherborne at the tavern while with Oliver, and the underground cellar after his last fight. “I presume that was toensure I was out of the way. How did you know I wasWillbeyond the mask?”
“You think me some kind of amateur? I had you followed,” Sherborne growled like a cornered hound. “And you had a routine. At first, I was happy enough with revealing your identity asWill—it was an evening away from the morning papers, but then I saw your marriage announcement and thought of a better plan.”
Nicholas could have struck him again. But now he was here, seeing the smallness of the man before him, the urge died before it even lit.
Sherborne wanted revenge because the woman he loved was dead. That was the long and short of it. He had tormented Nicholas because he wanted to cause pain, and Nicholas could have caused pain in return, but he found he didn’t have to.
The better victory was to live well and be happy. Nicholas had found a new form of happiness. Sophia was his, and he could finally let the past go. Grace could sleep peacefully in her grave with all the rest of her secrets, and he could find a new way forward with Isadora and Sophia and the life they could build together.
For even having the audacity of touching Isadora, Nicholas could have had Sherborne killed and his body thrown elsewhere, but that was not how he wanted to begin his new life. Finally, he knew what he wanted, and it was not to drown in the ripples from Grace’s infidelity.
It was to love, wholeheartedly, the way he had been fighting ever since Grace’s death. Isadora might not forgive him immediately, but he would take the time to show her that he could change.
All he needed was for her to be well again.
“I am going to leave you for the magistrate,” he said, standing and tucking his chair aside again. “You will remain here, and then you will submit to the justice of the law, and there is nothing else you can do about it. My word will be against yours, and I am a peer of the realm.”
“I, too, am a gentleman.” Sherborne writhed against the ropes, his face a mask of rage. “The world will know that your wife lovedme. And that Sophia ismine!”
There could be no proof that Nicholas could bring forward, but he knew in his own mind the truth: Sophia was his, and Grace had never claimed otherwise. And that was enough for him. Sherborne’s wild claims would get him nowhere; no one would believe him.
“And what will that achieve?” Nicholas demanded, leaning down and bracing his hands on the wooden arms of Sherborne’s chair. “She saw you as an escape and as a rebellion. And perhaps she loved you, but it was never enough to elope. She was not the woman you believe her to be. She lied to you. If she ever claimed she would leave Sophia behind, then she was a liar. And you are not upholding her memory by attempting to hurt the people she loved.”
He stuffed the gag back in Sherborne’s mouth and left the cellars.
The entire way upstairs again, he thought about Isadora. He hadn’t been there to see her fall, but he’d seen the blood caked on the back of her head, and the way she staggered, clearly dazed, but so determined to get to Sophia.
He’d never truly appreciated her, never shown her how much it meant to him that she would embrace his life and his world so entirely—in spite of all his flaws, but he would.
He would do anything just to make sure she woke again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Isadora fluttered her eyes open.
A dark world greeted her, the deep satin blue of night, moonlight shimmering against the curtains. It felt… it felt as though there was something wrapped around her skull.
Her thoughts stuttered, but she forced them through, forced herself into focusing, and found she could. Unlike before, when everything had felt confused and blurry, like fog over glass.
She twisted her head, wincing, and went still. Nicholas lay beside her, quiet and peaceful,asleep. His breaths were enormous, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. He was… sleeping in her bed.
Slowly she reached up a fuzzy hand and found the cloth bound about her head. She… she wished she could remember the last few hours. How long had she lain here?
Her bladder announced itself, and she eased the covers back, careful not to wake him. Her head ached, but it was the ache of a wound, nothing worse—a small price to pay.
Nicholas had said Sophia was all right. She was all right.
