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"He did marry, just before we received the letter from Samuel Grayson."

"Well, I feel sorry for his poor wife if that is why he married her. To breed heirs."

"I wouldn't feel sorry for Alexandra," Ryder said slowly. "I must admit, however, to being interested in learning what has happened between the two of them. But that's all beside the point. I will go to Montego Bay and speak to Oliver Susson. I will tell him the race is lost, so to speak. I will engage him to handle this situation and if he does it well, why then, I won't beat him to a bloody pulp."

She was quiet. Too quiet. He frowned down at her. "Attend me, Sophie. This is what is going to happen so accustom yourself. If you try to leave Kimberly Hall again, Emile has instructions to sit on you."

"Why are you doing this? Do you even realize what you're doing? You are volunteering to take a nine-year-old boy into your guardianship along with his nineteen-year-old slut of a sister. Why would you want this kind of responsibility?"

"I don't know," Ryder said. He tried to shrug it off, but couldn't quite manage it. He said slowly, "I am twenty-five. I am the second son, an honorable, not a lord. All my life I've done precisely what I wanted. All my life I've laughed and played and loved and enjoyed myself. When my father died, well then, there was Douglas to take care of things because, after all, he was the new earl. He was the respon­sible one. And I continued as I had. There was no reason for me to change. No one expected anything else from me. As for the other, well, none know of it and it is none of their business and besides it is no great or grave responsibility."

"What other?"

He simply shook his head and looked irritated with himself.

Sophie held herself silent.

He shrugged. "So," he said, "now I am responsible for both you and Jeremy. You will depend upon me and upon no one else. Just me. No, just shut your mouth, Sophie, and shake hands with your new guardian."

He hadn't really expected her to do anything but continue to squawk. She thrust out her hand and he took it in his. She stared up at him, saying in her tortured raw voice, "I do trust you with Jeremy. I do."

"You must learn to trust me with yourself as well."

"Oh no."

"How are your feet?"

"My feet? Oh, I forgot about them. They're fine, nearly well, in fact."

"Yes, I'll just bet they are." Ryder pulled the sheet off her. Her feet were lightly bandaged. Blood had soaked through the white cloth. "Why is there blood on the bandages?"

From walking on them downstairs and then run­ning back upstairs.

"I don't know." Actually, she hadn't felt a thing. Odd, that.

"Sophie, it's obvious you got out of that bed. What did you do?"

"I had to relieve myself."

"Yes, certainly, that sounds like the exact truth. And reaching the chamber pot—all of six feet away— did this. Where did you go, Sophie?"

She looked at her hands. There was still grime under her fingernails. She said absolutely nothing.

'You need a guardian more than Jeremy does."

She looked then at her feet and wondered how she could have possibly forgotten them. Even dash­ing up and down the stairs to eavesdrop on Ryder and Mr. Cole hadn't hurt her. But now, looking at them, seeing the bloody bandages, she began to feel throbbing pain.

"I will see to them. There's no reason for you to remain, Ryder."

He cursed, fluently and loudly.

Within ten minutes he'd removed the bandages and was washing her feet with soap and hot water. She was trying to keep from crying out. He saw her white face and gentled. He called her a fool and kept cleaning the cuts. He called her a stupid twit when he lightly rubbed at a gash that was ugly and still bleeding.

When he poured alcohol over both feet, she nearly leapt off the bed it hurt so bad. But he grabbed her shoulders and forced her onto her back. "I know it must sting like the very devil but you deserve it. Damn you, don't move. I don't know where you went walking but I'll find out and don't think I won't. Now, I'm going to do it again, just to make sure. If you dare to move, I will tie you down. Scream instead."

She yelled at the top of her lungs when he forced both feet into an alcohol bath. He held them there and she choked on the pain and on her tears.

Jeremy came flying through the door. His fists were up, his face was red with anger and determi­nation.


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