Till Dawn with the Devil (13 page)

The marquess’s mouth thinned at the enigmatic statement. “When is it ever?”

Reign wearily collapsed onto the chair next to Sin’s. His appetite had abandoned him, but the enticing fragrance of coffee caused his stomach to growl. He ignored his discomfort.

Whether she wanted it or not, Sophia needed his help, and Reign was determined not to disappoint her.

“I have come to ask both of you for your help.”

There was nothing better than a good cry and some warm food to clear a lady’s head. Sophia knelt down in front of the door and inserted one of her small hat pins into the keyhole.

Originally, she had contemplated rending the sheet linens and tying the pieces together to form a makeshift rope. She realized almost immediately that her daring plan had several problems. First, she did not possess a knife to cut the strong cloth, and the sewing shears that she used for her needlepoint were too dull for the task.

Second, even if she had managed to fashion a
rope out of the sheets, she was uncertain if it would be long enough for her to safely reach the ground. Her eyesight was too poor for her to judge the distance properly, and what good was escaping if she broke her neck?

No, a rope was too risky.

She had also ruled out using the spoon the maid had given her for her breakfast to dig a hole through the thick plastered walls. Such a feat would take days. Besides, if Stephan was about, he would most likely notice the thumps and scratching sounds emanating from the wall. It would be too much to expect that he would believe that rats were suddenly infesting one particular wall in the town house.

A weak-spirited miss might have given up, but Sophia was determined to best Stephan. Even if she had to prostrate herself at Lord Mackney’s feet and beg for his mercy. Sophia had no intention of marrying the earl. When faced with possible financial ruin, her brothers had decided to sacrifice their little sister rather than place their own necks through a marriage noose. All things considering, their high-handedness seemed quite unfair.

No, Sophia would save herself from Stephan’s tyranny.

The hat pin bent as she jabbed at the hidden mechanism inside the keyhole.

“Blast it all!” Sophia muttered, tugging the pin out of the hole. It slipped from her fingers and vanished, swallowed by the keyhole.

“Hmph!” she said, disgusted with the useless hat pin and her limited skills. “There has to be another way.”

She pulled herself to her feet and marched over to the forgotten tray that held the remains of her breakfast. She snatched up the spoon and returned to the door. The handle of the spoon was too wide for the keyhole.

“No. This is not fair!” she complained aloud. She jammed the handle against the lock in frustration before she discarded it with a flip of her wrist. “What else?”

The sewing shears.

Sophia strode over to the chair she had been dozing in when her brothers had returned. Kneeling down, she shifted items in the basket until her fingers closed around the shears. Armed with a new tool, she went back to the door and dropped to her knees.

“Please work.”

Biting her lower lip, Sophia slipped one of the short blades into the keyhole. Her eyelids lowered as she concentrated on her task. She had never studied the internal workings of a lock. Nevertheless, how complicated could the shifting bits of metal within be? Something clicked within the keyhole, causing Sophia to smile.

Perhaps this would not be so difficult, after all?

The blade snapped off.

“No!” Sophia squinted at the dark keyhole in disbelief. She began to stab the remaining blade
into the hole when the recognizable sounds of a key being inserted on the other side of the door froze her in place.

Had her brother returned?

Panic caused her heart to race as she scrambled backward. She quickly got to her feet and realized she still had the broken sewing shears clutched in her hand. Sophia hid them behind her back just as the door cracked open.

“Milady?”

Sophia almost fainted as she recognized her maid’s voice. “Lucy!” she whispered, placing her hand over her heart. “Good heavens, I thought you were my brother.”

The two ladies embraced.

“Stephan told me that he had ordered you to remain in your quarters.”

“Now, now . . . ,” Lucy went on. “We have so little time. Most of the staff is terrified of your brothers, and everyone has been warned that they will be sacked without references if any of us interfere with Lord Ravenshaw’s business.”

“Where is my brother?”

“He left the house fifteen minutes ago. Mr. Northam has orders to watch over you, but he is currently in the kitchen flirting with one of the maids.”

Sophia could not quite trust her good fortune.

“Lucy, I have to get out of this house before Stephan returns,” she said urgently. “I am not sure what you have heard—”

“Enough.” Lucy pressed a small leather pouch into Sophia’s hand. “It isn’t much, I’m afraid.”

Sophia walked over to her dressing table and collected her reticule and bonnet covered in straw-colored diaphanous satin. “I gathered what jewelry I have. Stephan has sold most of the larger pieces.”

“It will have to do.” Lucy plucked the bonnet from her mistress’s boneless fingers and placed it on her head. With brisk movements, she tied the ribbons under Sophia’s chin. “Use the back stairs. The door to the gardens is unlocked. From there, go to the stables. I have one of the grooms preparing a horse—”

“I am not properly dressed!” Sophia protested.

“This is about haste, not propriety, milady.” Lucy strode purposely over to one of the chairs and retrieved Sophia’s walking stick. “If you leave by carriage, Lord Ravenshaw will know that the staff helped you. Here.” She pressed the top of the walking stick into Sophia’s hand. “Toss it away when you get to the horse. It will be a distraction, and might frighten the beast if he catches sight of it.”

Sophia clutched the other woman’s hands. Her riding skills were adequate, but navigating London with her limited vision would be difficult. The horse’s movements usually unsettled her stomach. “I am terrified, Lucy. I cannot do this. Perhaps I could hail a hackney coach—?”

“There is no time for this nonsense,” Lucy
snapped, pushing Sophia toward the door. “Lord Ravenshaw could return at any moment, and Mr. Northam will only be distracted for so long.”

With a firm hand on Sophia’s upper arm, Lucy escorted her mistress down the hallway toward the servants’ hidden stairs. “I can go no farther. The rest is up to you.”

Sophia embraced the maid she also considered her friend. “I thought I would ride to—”

Lucy covered Sophia’s mouth. “It is best if you do not tell me or anyone else where you will be heading. When Lord Ravenshaw discovers that you have escaped, he will question the servants. Wherever you go, I suggest that you choose a place your brother will not expect. He has a frightful temper when provoked, nor will he be reasonable if he discovers your whereabouts.”

“I owe you more than I can ever repay. Now go.” Sophia gestured with a nod of her head. “You have risked much for me, and I do not want you to come to regret it.”

Sophia’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dim staircase as she hurried down as swiftly as she dared. It was strange, but fear seemed to have sharpened her eyesight. Within minutes, she reached the unlocked door to the outer gardens. She opened the door, and fresh air bathed her face.

Sophia peered up at the gray, cloudy sky. The air held a hint of rain, but there was a chance that the light wind would blow the storm clouds away.
With the help of the walking stick, she crossed the back garden and headed for the stables.

She almost stumbled as she realized that Lucy had not told her the name of the groom. Was it important? Indecision slowed her pace. Had Stephan thought to warn the stable not to prepare a carriage for her? Mayhap not. Her brother had a bad habit of underestimating his younger sister. With Henry guarding her, Stephan would not have considered that Sophia might leave her bedchamber, let alone slip out of the house.

Her heart was pounding in her throat as she observed from a distance two grooms stroll into the stable. Lucy was right. Sophia had no time to spare with this nonsense. If she hoped to ride to Fanny’s house, she needed to walk into the stable and ask for her horse.

A large gloved hand covered her mouth, smothering Sophia’s scream. Rough hands dragged her off the pebbled path and into the foliage. Sophia raised her walking stick and stabbed the sharp point into her attacker’s foreleg.

“Bloodthirsty wench!” Reign growled in her ear. “And here I thought you needed rescuing.”

Sophia would have fallen to her knees if Reign had not caught her up into his arms. Her head lolled back against his arm as she stared at him with wonderment.

“Reign, I cannot believe it is you!”

He savored the caress of her hand against his cheek.

“How did you find me? Did Lucy send you?”

“Who the devil is Lucy?”

Sophia frowned. “My maid. If you did not—Reign, why are you here?”

“I already told you. I came to rescue you.” He grinned down at her stunned expression. “Though I’m beginning to regret it now that you’ve put a hole in my leg with your walking stick.”

“I-I thought you were Stephan.”

Reign suddenly had the urge to hit something. Ravenshaw would do. “Where is he?”

“I do not know. Lucy said that he left the house. I assume to meet with Lord Mackney. Henry is inside, supposedly watching my bedchamber door.”

His eyebrows rose in an inquiring fashion. “Supposedly?”

Sophia shrugged. “Henry was rather neglectful in his duties. Lucy was able to unlock the door so I could slip out of the house.” Now that she had recovered from her fright, she was able to stand without his support.

The bastard had locked Sophia in her room.

Reign was tempted to stroll into the house and seek out young Henry. Northam was not Ravenshaw, but he clearly had been unwilling to stand against his older brother.

“Where were you heading?”

Sophia peeked around the large bush to make certain that they had not been overheard. “The stables. Lucy told me that one of the grooms had readied a horse. I was going to Fanny’s from there.”

Reign gave her a look of disbelief. The notion of Sophia riding a horse down the streets of London was terrifying. “Are you mad? How were you going to manage that?”

Her lower lip protruded slightly as his insult struck its mark. “I will have you know that I am capable of riding a horse.”

“In the country, perhaps, when you only have to worry about trees and grazing sheep,” Reign said, letting himself get momentarily distracted by Sophia’s harebrained plan. “The London streets are no place for an inexperienced, half-blind lady on horseback. You would have likely broken your
foolish neck, and I want to throttle you myself for even contemplating such a reckless challenge.”

Sophia’s lip quivered. “I was desperate,” she said simply, her beautiful blue-green eyes filling with tears.

Hell. Reign felt like a brute for lecturing her after everything she had been through. Without waiting for an invitation, he gathered her into his arms and hugged her. “I know.” His only excuse was everything he had set into motion since Frost had told him about Ravenshaw’s plan to marry Sophia off to Lord Mackney.

After years of burying his feelings, Sophia had slipped under his skin and triggered all his protective instincts. If Ravenshaw had been unlucky enough to stumble upon them, Reign would have gladly murdered the man and not felt a twinge of regret. It was a sobering realization that he had more in common with his sire than he thought.

“I still do not understand,” Sophia said, banishing his dark thoughts. She stepped out of his arms. “If Lucy did not send for you, then why are you here?”

Reign rubbed the back of his neck. He suspected that Sophia was going to be difficult when she heard his plan. “Is it not obvious? I have come to collect my bride.”

Sophia was speechless.

Lord Rainecourt was proposing to marry her?

Impossible.

From what she had learned about his first
marriage, it had been a disastrous affair of the heart that had ended with the countess’s untimely death. Reign himself had told her that he had no desire to bind himself to another lady.

No, Sophia thought, she had misunderstood him.

What words rhyme with
bride?
Pride . . . guide . . . died?

Reign took advantage of her silence and led her away from the stables toward the street. With his arm gallantly hooked through hers, they strolled down the street to the awaiting coach. At their approach, the coachman scrambled down from his perch. He opened the door and tipped his hat.

“A lovely day, is it not, milady?”

Sophia mutely stared in horror at the coachman as if he had sprouted horns from his forehead.

Reign placed his hand on the small of her back as he helped her ascend the steps of his private coach. Behind her, he addressed the servant. “We have tarried here long enough. Let us be off.”