He prepared himself for a sharp retort, but she surprised him by saying, “I cannot bear to think of you suffering, though it is nothing like the pain of being told you were dead.”
Hell!
His heart plunged like a rock kicked from the cliff edge.
Sophia hugged her abdomen and turned to stare at the flames dancing in the hearth.
He couldn’t do this.
He could not revisit emotions that were so raw they still wept.
He should leave, but duty held him rigid.
“None of that matters,” he lied. It all mattered. “You approached Lucius Daventry because you needed help and I am here to bring an end to your problems.” Though numerous times in the last few minutes he’d considered braving the haunted woods and returning home. “Let us consider this a business arrangement. Push all personal feelings aside.” He had been doing the same for years.
Sophia cast him a sidelong glance. “An arrangement between old friends?”
“Yes,” he said, already reinforcing the wall he kept between them. “We will work together and have the matter resolved in a few days.”
Her sapphire blue eyes widened. “So soon?”
“There are few suspects.”
“That I know of, yes, but I fear there is something more sinister afoot.”
Sinister?
“When scared, the mind plays tricks and feeds our fears.” Hell, he had almost imagined devilish creatures hiding in the woods. “Once we examine the facts, things will appear clearer. Perhaps I should return in the morning, begin proceedings when your mind is more alert.”
She swung around to face him. “Return in the morning? But Mr Daventry assured me you would remain here.” A wild panic filled her eyes. “Jessica often goes missing at night. It is at night when I need you most.”
Merciful Lord!
When journeying along the woodland path, he’d sensed this visit would be a form of retribution. To hear she needed him at ni
ght was like a prod with the devil’s pitchfork.
“Besides, where would you go at this late hour?” Sophia added.
He had not given the matter any thought. But he knew a thousand miles was not far enough away to banish his craving for her.
“Come.” She stepped closer and gestured to the red velvet Knole sofa close to the fire. Once, she might have grabbed his arm and tugged playfully. Now, she knew not to touch him. “You’ve ridden a long way, and we have much to discuss. Trust me, you’ll be exhausted and fit for nothing but bed when I’ve finished explaining the strange nature of events.”
The strength it took to keep a tight rein on his emotions left him weary, though he doubted he would sleep tonight.
“Leave your greatcoat on the chair by the window, and I shall pour you a drink.” Sophia’s weak smile failed to hide her apprehension. Clearly, this was difficult for her, too. “P-port or brandy?”
“Brandy.”
He could not drink port without recalling the time they stole his father’s decanter, keen to experience why the fortified wine made men spout nonsense. The prank led to their first kiss. And despite the heartache that followed, nothing could eradicate the beauty of the moment.
While she ventured to the rosewood chiffonier, he removed his coat and draped it over the chair. He poked the fire until she joined him, though she placed the brandy goblet on the side table, not in his hand.
“I suppose I should start with what happened while you were away in Belgium,” she said, lowering into the wingback chair. Evidently, she was just as keen to get this over with.
“Held hostage in Belgium,” he corrected, taking a seat at the far end of the sofa. “There’s a vast difference.”
“Yes.” Sophia stared at the flames crackling in the hearth before turning to face him. “Of course, you’re aware my father gave permission for Jessica to wed Mr Archer. It was assumed we would marry first. When we learnt you were amongst the casualties at Waterloo, Father insisted they wait until I was settled.”