"You cannot do that," Waycott hissed.
"And that is only the beginning," Julian continued relentlessly. "I shall let all the owners of the various parcels of land that surround your estate in Suffolk know that I am willing to buy them out. In time, Waycott, your lands will be surrounded by properties owned by me. Furthermore, I shall make certain that your reputation suffers so that no reputable club will have you and no respectable hostess will want you under her roof."
"It will never work."
"Yes it will, Waycott. I have the money, land, and a sufficiently powerful title to ensure that my plan will work. What's more, I will have Sophy on my side. Her name is golden in London these days, Waycott. When she turns against you, the entire social world will turn against you."
"No." Waycott shook his head furiously, his eyes wild. "She will never do so. I did not hurt her. She will understand why I did what I did. She is sympathetic to me."
"Not any longer."
"Because I brought her here? But I can explain that to her."
"You will never have the chance. Even if I allowed you to get close enough to plead with her, which I have no intention of doing, you would find no sympathy or leniency from that quarter. You see, Waycott, you sealed your own doom before you even met Sophy."
"What in God's name are you talking about now?"
"Remember that young woman whom you seduced here three years ago and whom you later abandoned when she got pregnant? The one who took your devilish ring? The one you told Sophy was unimportant? The one you called the village whore?"
"What about her?" Waycott screamed. "She was Sophy's sister."
Waycott's expression went blank with shock. "Oh, my God."
"Exactly," Julian said quietly. "You begin to perceive the depths of your problem. I see no point in my staying here any longer. Consider your two choices carefully, Waycott.
If I were you, I'd choose America. I've heard from those who patronize Manton that you are not a good marksman."
Julian turned his back on Waycott, picked up the emeralds and walked out the door. He had untied the black's reins before he heard the muffled shot from within the old castle.
He had been wrong. Waycott had had three choices, not two. It was obvious the Viscount had found the pocket pistol in the basket and taken the third way out.
Julian put one foot in the stirrup and then reluctantly decided to go back into the ominously silent ruin. The scene that awaited him would be unpleasant, to say the least, but given Waycott's general ineptitude it would be best to make certain the Viscount had not made a muddle of the whole thing.
TWENTY
It seemed to Sophy that she had been sitting huddled in a chair for hours before she finally heard Julian's booted footsteps in the hall. With a soft cry of relief, she leaped to her feet and flew to the door.
One anxious glance at her husband's harsh, weary face told her that something very grim had occurred. The half-empty bottle of claret and the glass that he had obviously stopped to pick up in the library confirmed the impression.
"Are you all right, Julian?"
"Yes."
He walked into the room, closed the door behind him and set the claret on the dressing table. Without another word he reached out to pull Sophy into his arms. They stood together in silence for a long while before either spoke.
"What happened?" Sophy finally asked.
"Waycott is dead."
She could not deny the sense of relief that went through her at that news. She tilted her head back to meet his eyes. "You killed him?"
"A matter of opinion, I imagine. Some would certainly say I was responsible. However, I did not actually pull the trigger. He performed that task himself."
Sophy closed her eyes. "He took his own life. Just as Amelia did."
"Perhaps there is some justice in the ending."
"Sit down, Julian. I will pour you some claret."
He did not argue. Sprawling in a chair near the window he watched with brooding eyes as Sophy poured the wine and carried it over to him.
"Thank you," he said as he took the glass from her. His eyes met hers. "You have a way of giving me what I want when I need it." He took a large mouthful of wine and swallowed it. "Are you all right? Has the news about Waycott unsettled you?"
"No." Sophy shook her head and sat down near Julian. "God forgive me, but I am glad it is over, even if it means another death. He would not go to America?"
"I do not believe he was rational enough to think clearly on the subject. I told him I would hound him, make his life a torment, until he left England and then I told him the young village girl he had seduced was your sister. Then I walked out the door. He found the pistol and used it on himself just as I was mounting my horse. I went back to see if he had managed to properly finish the business." Julian took another sip of wine. "He had."
"How terrible for you."
He looked at her. "No, Sophy. The terrible part was walking into that hellish little chamber and seeing the rope he had tied around your ankle and the pallet where he intended to rape you."
She shivered and hugged herself tightly. "Please, do not remind me."
"Like you, I am glad it's over. Even if today's events had not occurred, I would have had to stop Waycott eventually. The bastard was getting worse, not better in his obsession with the past."
Sophy frowned thoughtfully. "Perhaps his condition took a turn for the worse because you decided to marry again. Some part of him could not bear to believe you could find any woman worthy of putting in Elizabeth's place. He wanted you to be as true to her memory as he was."
"Bloody hell. The man was mad."
"Yes." Sophy was silent for a moment. "What will happen now?"
"His body will be found in a day or two and it will be obvious that Lord Waycott took his own life. The matter will end there."
"As it should." Sophy touched his arm and smiled tentatively. "Thank you, Julian."
"For what? Not protecting you with sufficient care to ensure that this day's events never happened? You managed your own escape, if you will recall. The last thing I deserve from you is your thanks, madam."
"I will not have you blame yourself, my lord," she said fiercely. "What happened today could not have been predicted by any of us. The important thing is that it is over. I am thanking you because I appreciate how hard it must have been for you to resist calling out Lord Waycott. I know you, Julian. Your sense of honor would have demanded a duel. It must have been very difficult for you to abide by your vow to me."
Julian shifted slightly in the chair. "Sophy, I think it would be best if we changed the subject."
"But I want you to know how grateful I am that you kept your promise to me. I hope you realize I could not allow you to take such a risk, Julian. I love you too much to let you do it."
"Sophy—"
"And I could not bear for our babe not to know his father."
Julian put down his wineglass and reached over to capture Sophy's hand in his. "I, too, am very curious to meet our son or daughter. I meant what I said when I walked out the door earlier tonight. I love you, Sophy. And I would have you remember that no matter what happens, no matter how often I fail to live up to your ideal of a perfect husband, I will always love you."
She smiled quietly and squeezed his large hand. "I know."
Julian's brows rose with a familiar arrogance but there was a gleam of loving amusement in his eyes. "You do? How so?"
"Well, let us say that I have had some time to think while I waited for you to return tonight. It occurred to me, rather belatedly, that any man who believed my outlandish tale of what had really happened this afternoon, the kidnapping and the drugged tea and all the rest, must be a man who was at least a little bit in love."