by Sandra Heath
Sophie’s face went white. “No ...”
“Oh, yes. So you see, my dear mademoiselle, your little diversion with my fool of a brother is at an end. You and he are never going to be together, and it won’t be long before you’re far away in some dark corner of Prussia, where I trust you’ll rot!”
Sophie rose slowly to her feet. She was trembling from head to toe and her eyes were wide with dismay. “I will not marry Prince Ludwig! I will not!”
“You have no choice.”
Sophie began to sob. “I—I’ll tell the grand duchess that the Prince Regent and the British government have been trying to turn me from this match! I’ll—”
“Do that and the prince will see my brother disinherited. You’ll have that on your conscience for all time if you carry out your childish threats.” Elizabeth was enjoying her revenge, and felt no conscience at all as she twisted the dagger in Sophie’s wounds.
William stared at his sister in disbelief. “Elizabeth, there’s no need to—”
“There’s every need, otherwise this provoking little trollop won’t pay heed to the unsavory truth.”
His eyes hardened with fury. “Don’t speak of Sophie like that!”
“I’ll speak as I choose! I’m tired of your Mlle Arenburg, and I don’t intend to put up with her nonsense any longer. She is putting our entire family into difficulty, and I see no reason whatsoever why we should endure it without hitting back!”
William held his sister’s gaze. “If anyone has put the family at risk, it’s me,” he said quietly.
“You wouldn’t have done any of this without encouragement from her,” Elizabeth answered.
Sophie was distraught. “Please, Lady Elizabeth, do not say such terrible things, for I love William with all my heart,” she whispered.
“It’s my brother today, my dear, but who will it be next week? I doubt if you’re capable of constancy. I look at you and see my own reflection. I know you for what you are, a fickle, self-centered hussy, with thoughts only for yourself. Just as I was at your age.”
“It’s not true!” Sophie cried wretchedly, her cheeks wet with tears.
“Every word is true, and you know it,” Elizabeth replied coldly.
William struggled up from the chair, his eyes dark with anger as he faced his sister. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Elizabeth,” he breathed.
“The prospect leaves me cold,” she replied. A fury had been unleashed inside her, and the need to hurt came pouring out in a vitriolic torrent. “Your precious little Arenburg is going to marry Prince Ludwig, and after all the trouble she’s caused me and mine, I pray he won’t make her happy.”
“I don’t think I know you anymore, Elizabeth.”
“I don’t care about your little mademoiselle, William, because if it were not for her, Camilla and Dominic would not be—” Elizabeth broke off, her lips closing abruptly.
William searched her face. “Well, go on, you might as well finish it. If it were not for Sophie, Camilla and Dominic wouldn’t what?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“But it does, Elizabeth. You obviously have some deep reason for behaving like this, and I think Sophie and I deserve to be told what it is.”
A nerve flickered at Elizabeth’s temple and she turned away. “It’s no concern of yours.”
“I’m making it my concern! What have Camilla and Dominic got to do with all this?” William snapped.
Sophie was distracted. “Stop! Oh, please stop! What does it matter why Lady Elizabeth has said the things she has? All that matters is that we can’t be together, William, and I cannot do anything about it because if I do I will hurt you. That is something I could never do, my love! And so I will marry Prince Ludwig and go hundreds of miles away from any hope of happiness.”
“Oh, Sophie, my dearest darling ...” William tried to pull her into his arms, but she pushed him away.
“No! I cannot bear it!” Tears were wet on her cheeks and she ran from the room as another rumble of thunder sounded outside.
William turned on his sister. “Get out of here, madam, for I never wish to see your face again. I’ll leave Summerton Park, but not with you, of that you may be sure.”
Sophie’s tearful flight didn’t bring Elizabeth the sense of triumph she’d anticipated, and the aversion in William’s eyes washed over her like icy water. “William, I...”
“I have nothing more to say to you.”
“Please listen to me.”
“You’ve said more than enough; now get out of here.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes and without another word withdrew from the room.
William picked up the makeshift crutches with which he’d been provided, and then went after Sophie.
While the confrontation took place in William’s room, Dominic was at the window in his own apartment, watching the progress of the storm along the valley.
The window overlooked the stable block, and the rain shone in the glow of the yard lanterns. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled across the dark skies. Time stood still for a moment, and then began to roll backward. The stormy April night was left behind, and suddenly he was plunged back to the humid summer day that Sir Harry Summerton met his death.
He stared down into the past, watching himself riding back from watching Harry meet his mistress at the villa. The thunderstorm that had been threatening was now approaching fast, and could almost be smelled in the draft of wind that breathed across the stableyard.
Rain fell as he dismounted and handed the reins to a groom, then there was a clatter of hooves as the Tattersall’s roan was led in from the paddock.
“Has Sir Harry requested the horse?” he asked, as lightning sliced the sky overhead.
The groom nodded. “Yes, my lord. Before he went out, he asked for it to be ready in an hour from now, though I don’t know if he’ll still want it in this weather. To my mind he’s ill-advised to ride such a brute in any conditions, let alone thunder,” the man added as the storm made the stallion toss its head and caper nervously about.
Dominic could only agree.
The storm had intensified an hour later as he returned to the stables to wait for Harry. The roan was saddled and waiting in the stall, but it moved restlessly to and fro each time there was a crack of thunder. He leaned on the stable door, watching the rain and thinking what a fool Harry was to risk his marriage for charms far too many others had sampled before him. Titled as she was, the lady was far from exclusive.
The rain fell relentlessly, and the air tingled with electricity before each resounding thunderclap. The stallion became more and more unnerved. Its neck was damp with sweat and it was clearly too overwrought to be ridden. At the best of times it was a mount that would require the control of a rider of steel: Harry Summerton was not such a rider.
At last Harry rode swiftly into the yard, and handed his horse to the groom who reluctantly ventured out to greet him. Dominic heard him shout above the racket of the storm.
“Keep the roan in readiness, I’ll take it out the moment the weather improves.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then Harry tugged his top hat low over his forehead to run toward the house, but Dominic called him.
“Harry, I want a word!”
Startled, Harry hurried across to the stall, removing his hat and shaking the moisture from it as he looked at him. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Harry searched his face. “Oh?”
“Yes, and I think you can guess what I’m going to say.”
“I’ve no idea.”
“I know why you’ve been in such a base humor these past weeks.”
Harry smiled. “Do you, indeed?” he murmured.
“Yes, and you have her installed in a villa just beyond the park. You’ve come from her now.”
Harry’s smile faded. “Fouché would appear to be your middle name.”
“It’s got to stop, and Camilla must
never know.”
“Who in the hell do you think you are?” Harry demanded curtly.
“I’m someone who wishes to protect Camilla from ever discovering what a misbegotten louse you really are.”
“You’re free with your insults.”
“You couldn’t afford my compliments. Face facts, Harry, I mean to have this whole business satisfactorily sorted before Camilla returns from Tetbury.” Dominic glanced at the stableyard clock. “She could return at any moment now, so I want your word you’re about to become the perfect husband again.”
“Your impudence astounds me, for what damned business is it of yours in the first place?” Harry replied angrily.
“I’m making it my business.”
“Why? Because you’ve developed an itch for my wife?”
Dominic became still. “I’ll forget you said that.”
Harry gave a short laugh. “How noble, to be sure. Come on, Dominic, I know exactly how you feel about Camilla, and—”
“Don’t say another word, for you have no conception at all how I feel toward her,” Dominic breathed icily, for it was all he could do to contain his fury and distaste. He wondered if he’d ever really known Harry Summerton, for the man into whose eyes he looked now was a callous stranger.
Harry gave a thin smile. “My, my, how pure you’d like me to think you are, but I’ve seen the lust in your eyes when you look at Camilla. You’re a hypocrite, Dominic, wanting my wife, while at the same time condemning me for wanting someone else’s.”
“I’m no saint, Harry, but there’s a world of difference between what I feel for Camilla and what you’re doing. I love her with all my heart, and I’ve done so since before your marriage. I thought you loved her as much as she loved you, so I didn’t attempt to come between husband and wife, but then I discovered you were deceiving her with a woman who is little better than a whore. I admit I’ve now tried to steal Camilla from you, but she cannot be stolen.”
“So this is nothing more or less than jealousy! You can’t have what you want, so I can’t have what I want either?” Harry was scathing.
“I’m merely protecting Camilla.”
“Ha! Nobility again! Well, if you ask me Camilla doesn’t want your protection, she wants your passion! I know my wife; your burning looks have made the desired impression, and she’s ripe for seduction.”
“Have a care how you speak of her!”
“Why, I do perceive that behind Fouché there lurks a veritable Sir Galahad,” Harry murmured mockingly, his voice almost inaudible as another clash of thunder shook the sky.
“I don’t give a damn about you, Harry, but I care very much about her.”
“And if I tell you to go to hell?”
“I wouldn’t advise it.”
“How tedious you are, to be sure. Well, I’m not about to dance to your tune, Dominic, and as for Camilla, to be truthful I find her dull fare these days. Enjoy her if you wish, I’ll even turn a blind eye if you get her between the sheets here. Just be discreet, old boy, I don’t fancy having to act the outraged husband.”
Dominic’s disgusted fury spilled over, and he brought his clenched fist crashing up to Harry’s jaw. Caught unawares, Harry staggered backward into the roan, making it whinny and rear.
A flash of lightning illuminated the gloom as Harry recovered and lunged back. The two men struggled, trading blow for blow, and the terrified stallion plunged from one side of the stall to the other.
Suddenly Harry flung himself sideways to snatch a rake from the wall. Grasping it in both hands, he swung it furiously at Dominic, who didn’t quite manage to duck out of the way and was caught a glancing blow on the head. It was enough to daze him, and he fell dangerously close to the horse’s flashing hooves.
He lay so still that Harry thought he was dead and dropped the rake just as an earsplitting thunderclap exploded directly overhead. The rain became a cloudburst as Harry stared numbly down at what he thought was Dominic’s lifeless body.
Then he was seized with panic. Snatching the roan’s reins, he led it out into the storm. The horse reared and tried to break free, but somehow he managed to mount. Then he kicked his heels and urged the animal across the yard to the open park.
The clatter of hooves penetrated Dominic’s daze, and he struggled to his feet, still reeling from the fury of the blow. Realization swept sickeningly over him as he saw the open door, and he staggered out into the rainswept yard, calling Harry’s name.
But Harry urged the horse on without hearing. Lightning turned the countryside white, and the earth shook as more thunder discharged above the park. The roan swerved violently to one side, and he was flung heavily to the ground. His head was dashed against a protruding tree root, killing him instantly, and at the very moment the breath left his body, Camilla’s carriage drove in through the gates on its way back from Tetbury.
Dominic experienced it all again as he watched from the window, but then time turned once more and the daylit past faded into the darkness of the present. He stared down into the storm-drenched yard, where the lanterns swayed in the gusting wind. “I hope you’re rotting in hell, Harry,” he whispered as another roll of thunder echoed across the sky.
A slight figure in a hooded cloak hurried toward the stalls. The wind caught the hood and whipped it back. He stared at Sophie’s tearstained face. She ran into the first stall, and the horse inside stirred nervously. It was Camilla’s newly acquired roan, so like the one Harry had ridden ...
Dominic put his hands on the sill and leaned urgently forward. What in God’s name ...? As he watched, Sophie lifted a sidesaddle down from the shelf.
He needed no second bidding, but ran from the room.
Chapter 19
But as Dominic ran toward the staircase, he heard Camilla’s alarmed voice from the hall below.
“William! For heaven’s sake tell me what’s wrong!”
“Let me go, Camilla! I must stop Sophie!” William cried.
Dominic reached the gallery and saw them at the foot of the stairs, which a distraught William had somehow managed to descend on his crutches. He was trying to go to the front door, but Camilla held his arm as she pleaded with him.
“You can’t go out in this storm, William! Please tell me what’s happened!”
In the split second before Dominic hurried down to them, he saw a motionless figure standing in the shadows to his right. It was Elizabeth. Her attention was on the scene on the stairs, and she didn’t even glance toward him. She made no move to go to her brother’s aid, indeed she seemed almost detached, as if everything was now out of her hands.
William tried to pull free of Camilla. “I must go to Sophie!” he insisted.
“What about Sophie?” she demanded as Dominic reached them.
“She’s running away!” William cried desperately.
Camilla was aghast.
William turned to look bitterly at Elizabeth. “I despise you,” he breathed, his voice carrying clearly in the moments before the storm echoed across the night again.
Elizabeth turned and walked away.
Neither Dominic nor Camilla needed to be told any more, for it was clear that Elizabeth had broken her word by telling Sophie everything as cruelly as possible.
Dominic put a reassuring hand on William’s arm. “I’ll go after Sophie. She went to the stables; I saw from my window.”
William stared anxiously after him as he went out into the storm. Camilla waited only a moment before gathering her blue velvet skirts to hurry out as well. The rain was torrential, but she paid scant heed. Lightning transformed the night into dazzling day, and then darkness returned.
Dominic ran toward the roan’s stall, calling out to Sophie as he went. But the past was with him again, and he heard that other day, when he’d shouted Harry’s name into the fury of a storm.
Sophie had managed to saddle the frightened horse, although her hands shook so much she hadn’t been able to tighten the girth properly. She was too distressed to be sens
ible, and was trying to mount as Dominic burst into the stall and caught the horse’s bridle.
“Don’t be foolish, Sophie!” he shouted.
“Leave me alone, milord!” she sobbed, trying to drag herself up to the saddle.
“No, damn it! I’m not having history repeat itself to the very last detail!” Seizing her around the waist, he pulled her roughly away from the horse. Then he slapped the animal’s haunch and with a clatter of hooves it galloped out into the yard.
Camilla pressed back against a wall and closed her eyes weakly as it passed. This was all a bad dream ... “Harry,” she whispered, blinking back tears.
Sophie was hysterical. “You should not have done that, Lord Ennismount! You should have let me go. I don’t want to stay now!”
“You can’t go anywhere in this!” Dominic cried, pointing at the wild night.
“I wish I were dead!” Sophie wept, hiding her face in her hands.
“No, you don’t,” Dominic said more gently, putting his arms around her and holding her close.
“Lady Elizabeth said such terrible things ...”
“Yes, I fear she probably did.” His eyes met Camilla’s as she came into the stall.
Sophie clung to him now. “Tell me it isn’t true that I must be married to Prince Ludwig in June,” she begged. “Tell me Lady Elizabeth only said it because she hates me.”
He couldn’t reply.
Camilla went to the weeping girl. “Let’s go back inside, Sophie. Poor William is beside himself with worry over you,” she said.
Sophie allowed herself to be led away, but Dominic spoke as they reached the door.
“Camilla?”
She turned.
His eyes were bright and intense. “I could stop it this time, but I swear there was nothing I could do before. You must believe me.”
She gazed at him for a long moment, and then ushered Sophie out into the rain.
William was waiting anxiously in the entrance hall, and Sophie ran to him the moment she and Camilla came in. One of his crutches fell to the floor as he caught his love close, resting his cheek against her wet hair.