He merely shrugged. 'Your husband isn't a stupid man, but just maybe he is where women are concerned. I don't pretend to fathom why the hell he married you when he could have simply taken you until he was bored with you. Oh no, Sophia, if you screamed rape to him, he would probably kill you, because once a whore always a whore."
'You make no sense, Lord David. You said you didn't want my husband for an enemy. He married me. He loves me. He wouldn't kill me, he would believe me, not you. He would kill you."
"Are you so ignorant of your husband's nature? Of his reputation? Like you, he must have a great deal of variety. You loved sex, God, you started on your career when you were barely eighteen. You want sex still, I doubt it not. You can't stay faithful to one man, even to Ryder Sherbrooke, who, I've heard, has bedded every woman who resides in Kent. Now he's in the Cotswolds and no woman will be safe from him. You'll see. He'll parade his mistresses under your nose and laugh. Well, my dear, Charles and I are going to allow you to continue with your ways just as he will with his."
He dug his heels into his stallion's sides, and came up close to her. He reached out his arms to her. Sophie raised her riding crop and brought it down hard on his arm. He yowled, jerking back.
"You're utterly mad!"
His face flushed with rage, but before he could do anything, the silence was broken by what sounded like a pack of wild dogs, all howling in anger, growling deeply and viciously, bounding ready to attack, and to kill. Wild dogs in the Cotswolds?
"What the bloody hell!"
Sophie pulled Opal back from him. An arrow came flying through the air to land in Lord David's upper arm, just nicking it actually, but certainly ruining his superfine riding jacket. He screamed more in anger than in pain. He had no weapon. He had no way to defend himself against an unseen enemy.
"You brought someone, you perfidious bitch! This isn't over, you'll see!"
He wheeled his stallion about and was soon lost to her sight. Sophie just sat there, trying to breathe deeply. It was no surprise to her when the underbrush surrounding the road spilled out seven children, Jeremy, and Sinjun, all of them oddly silent after their sterling performance. Sinjun carried the bow. It had been she who had shot Lord David. Sophie climbed down from Opal's broad back.
Jeremy came to her and enfolded her in his arms.
"He's a bad man from Jamaica," the boy said. "I told Sinjun who he was."
"You did well." She raised her head. All the children, from four-year-old Jenny to ten-year-old Oliver, stood silent, all in a line, watching her. She wondered how they had known, then decided she didn't want to know. She tried to smile but it was difficult. She said finally, "I was in trouble. Thank you all for your help. I truly believed a pack of wild dogs had somehow come along. You were splendid. I'm very proud of all of you."
Sinjun said quietly, "I didn't think you wanted Ryder to know just yet. We will figure out what to do, Sophie. You're not alone anymore. But Jeremy doesn't understand everything that happened on Jamaica. You need to tell me more."
'Yes, I will. Now, listen to me, all of you. I know that you all dearly love Ryder. But I beg you not to tell him of this. The bad man is as mean as a snake, he isn't honorable or good like Ryder. He wouldn't fight him fairly. I don't want Ryder hurt. Please don't say anything to him. All right?"
Amy said, "What's a hore?"
Tom slapped his hand over the little girl's mouth. "That's not a nice word. Don't say it again."
Amy, affronted, yelled back at Tom, "You say horrible words to Jaime all because Ollie said you grew up on the docks. You—"
Oliver got into the argument, waving one of his crutches about, and then Jenny said in a very carrying voice, "I want to go pull up my dress and visit Mrs. Nature."
Sophie felt something loosen inside her. She laughed, really laughed, and soon the children joined her, and it was Sinjun who carried Jenny off into the underbrush to visit Mrs. Nature.
Sophie realized on the way back to Chadwyck House that none of the children had promised her not to tell Ryder.
Jane and her two helpers were nearly recovered and would come to Chadwyck House within the next two weeks.
Sophie, who knew all about Jane now, realized that the woman wouldn't be happy living in another woman's household. There would be no problem. They would simply build another house in the small knoll that stood not one hundred yards from the main house. Ryder agreed and work would begin soon.
To Sophie's astonishment, Melissande decided after only one visit to Bedlam House, as Ryder had christened it, that perhaps having a child wasn't such a bad idea after all. All the children, even Jenny, told her over and over again how very beautiful she was. They were afraid to touch her for fear of somehow hurting her perfection. As for Melissande's husband, Tony, he groaned and said there was no hope for it. He was immediately taking her to London. "I can tolerate—just barely—some nodcock fool young man telling her that her eyebrows are like an artist's brush strokes, but all this nonsense from a pack of children? No, Sophie, it is too much. I will go into a decline if I have to hear much more."
Tony sighed deeply. Ryder laughed. Melissande beamed at all the children, patting every single head. She promised each of them a special sweetmeat on her next visit.
Ryder strode toward the house one afternoon, tired from a long day in the fields, speaking to many of his farmers. He'd also met with architects and arranged for artisans and wo
rkers for the new house. He'd also heard gossip about his gaggle of "bastards," and he'd gotten a good laugh from that. Just wait, he thought, just wait until there were a good fifteen children. Then what would the busybodies say? He wasn't at all surprised to realize that eventually, there would very probably be at least fifteen children, perhaps more.
It was a hot day, far too hot for this time of year, nearly Michaelmas now. He heard the chil-dren before he saw them. Always, they were ready for him. They had set up some kind of signal sys-tem. In another minute, many of them were there, escorting him to the house, all of them talking at once, even Jenny. She was talking like a magpie now and he realized it was his influence that had brought the rapid progress. He wouldn't let her out of his sight after this. He quickly forgot his fatigue; he laughed and listened to each of them and all of them at once, and silently thanked the good Lord yet again that none of them had come down with the measles.
And each night there was Sophie beside him, accepting him now, and he knew she enjoyed his body, knew that she looked forward to their time alone so she could touch him as much as she wished to, and accept his touches. Only last night, he had actually made her laugh when he was deep inside her. He felt good. He couldn't imagine the stars aligning themselves in a more propitious stance.
He was whistling until he found two letters in the top drawer of her desk. Sophie was in Lower Slaughter, three children and Laura and Sophie's maid, Cory, with her, buying cloth to make clothing. The seamstresses of Lower Slaughter—all three of them—were in alt because of the sudden manna from business heaven that showed no sign of ever diminishing. It was during Sophie's jaunt that Mrs. Chivers had complained to Ryder that the butcher was cheating them royally, and here they were, not royalty at all, and he really should do something about it and not spend all his time with those dirty farmers. And so he was looking in Sophie's desk for the butcher bills. And he found the letters from David Lochridge.