“That what?”
“I don’t understand you.”
“Sometimes I don’t understand myself,” he said. He began to rock her back and forth. She was asleep within two minutes.
No, he thought, he didn’t understand and it was driving him mad.
He carried her back to bed and laid her on her back. He decided to leave her ribs unbandaged. Very gently he removed the towel from her hair and smoothed out the tangles with his fingers, fanning her hair about her head on the pillow to dry.
He looked at her flat belly and at the soft nest of hair below. She really was quite lovely, he thought, as he pulled a sheet over her, and she’d known men in only one context. They wanted her body, nothing more. Well, she had a very nice body, but he wasn’t moved at all.
He had no intention of ever being moved by this woman, at least any more than he already was.
He was eating luncheon with Samuel, Emile, and Jeremy, when James came into the room and said, “Mr. Thomas is here, Mr. Sherbrooke. He wants to see you.”
Jeremy’s fork fell to his plate, his face suddenly white. Ryder nodded to James, saying, “Show him into the salon, James. I shall be there presently. Now, Jeremy, pick up your fork and eat those delectable shrimps. I asked your sister to trust me. I’m asking the same of you. If you don’t get color back into your cheeks, I’ll stake you out in the sun. If you think I will allow Thomas or anyone else to get near you, you are sorely mistaken. Do you understand me, young man?”
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy said, his eyes searching Ryder’s face. Ryder saw the fear, the uncertainty, and he felt something move deep inside him. He buffeted the boy’s shoulder as he passed his chair. “Emile plans to teach you all about rum this afternoon.”
“I already know a lot about rum.”
“Emile will show you things you’ve never seen before, won’t you, Emile?”
“Indeed.”
“Eat your lunch. You’ll need your strength.”
Ryder heard Jeremy say to Emile as he left the dining room, “Do you whip the slaves, sir?”
“No,” Emile said matter-of-factly. “They’re our workers. Without them we wouldn’t produce much sugar. We depend on them. If I hurt them, why then, they couldn’t work and then where would we be?”
“Thomas beats the Camille slaves.”
“Thomas is a stupid man. Ryder will doubtless see to his education.”
Ryder smiled in anticipation. He wished he’d spoken to Sophie but he hadn’t wanted to awaken her. Well, doubtless Thomas was here because Uncle Theo still wasn’t well yet. Good. It seemed that she’d plunged that letter opener nice and deep.
Sophie woke up just as the sun was lowering, splashing the sky with all shades of pinks and reds. She was alone. She rose and relieved herself, then found the man’s nightshirt she’d been wearing and slipped it over her head. Her ribs ached and pulled but the awful tearing pain was now bearable.
She walked slowly to the balcony and raised her face to the still evening air. Soon she would be well enough to leave Kimberly. Soon she would have to leave Kimberly, she and Jeremy. But where would she go?
Ryder was right about that. She had nothing, no money, nothing except a harlot’s reputation.
She stared blankly into the pink and golden twilight, listening to turtledoves, frogs, crickets, and the myriad other night creatures that she normally didn’t hear because she was so used to them.
Ryder paused in the doorway. He saw her standing there in the ridiculous loose nightshirt, her hair thick and flowing down her back. She looked sixteen. But he knew when he saw her eyes there would be weary cynicism there.
“Come back to bed,” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.
She turned slowly. She was no longer weak and hurting. She was standing now, a grown woman, and she had to deal with him. She said calmly, “I’m tired of that damned bed. I wish to remain standing for a while. You said you wanted to speak to me. Let’s do it.”
She was back to normal. It pleased him enormously. “As you will,” he said easily. “Thomas was here.”
Had he expected her to gasp? To shudder with fright? To totter toward him and beg for his protection? She didn’t do any of these things. Her expression was remote and remained remote. She looked calm and serene. She was really very good. He walked to her and stopped directly in front of her. He raised his fingertips and lightly touched her chin, the tip of her nose, ran his fingertips over her eyebrows. “The bruises are fading. By tomorrow you won’t be such a fright.”
She didn’t move. “Then I won’t request a mirror until the day after tomorrow.”
“As I said, Thomas came here.”
“I assume you handled him?”
He grinned. “No, I pleaded with him to allow you to remain here for a little while longer. He beat me into the floor but decided to let you stay. However, he said he’d come back and—”
She jerked. It was just a small sort of shiver really, but he’d discovered that during the past few days he’d become attuned to her, noticing small movements, small reactions, that gave her away.
“Don’t be a fool,” he said. “Now, let me tell you about a very unmemorable meeting. Lord, the man’s a villain and utterly without a conscience. I met him in the salon. Did you know that James, our footman, isn’t fond of Thomas? Why, I do believe James’s eyes got meaner than a snake’s when he said the man’s name.”
“Thomas is an animal. James has a brother who is owned by my uncle. Mr. Grayson tried to buy him but my uncle refused. Yes, Thomas is a swine.”
“Well, yes he is. Hush now and let me tell you of our rather boring conversation.”
Ryder had walked into the salon in high good humor, nearly rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He stopped, smiled, and said, “I believe your name is Thomas? Fancy seeing you here at Kimberly Hall without your bow and arrows and that very charming white sheet both you and your master enjoy wearing. I particularly applauded the white hoods. Ah, but my manners. Would you care for some coffee?”
“I have come for Mr. Burgess’s niece and nephew.”
“Oh?” Ryder smiled benignly at the overseer. He was tall, exceedingly thin, save for a belly that protruded between his vest and his breeches. His hair was grizzled and very short and there was beard stubble on his jaw. He looked as if he hadn’t slept much or bathed or changed his clothes in several days. His eyes were cold, very cold, and Ryder doubted if he’d ever been filled with the milk of human kindness.
“I do owe you for that arrow you put in my shoulder.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thomas said. “If you please, Mr. Sherbrooke, Mr. Burgess is anxious to see his niece and nephew. He is naturally concerned for their welfare.”
“Ah, doubtless that is so. How could anyone ever question his feelings? However, whatever makes him think they could be here?”
“There is talk. Everyone knows. The gossip is that Miss Stanton-Greville is living here openly as your mistress, and in return for her favors, you also took in the boy. It distresses Mr. Burgess. Bring them down now and they won’t bother you again.”
“Why don’t you sit down, Thomas.”
“Damn you, Sherbrooke, you have no right—”
“No right to what? To rescue a girl who’s been beaten senseless? To take a small boy out of a locked room?”
“Hellfire, one of her lovers beat her! I locked the boy in his room to protect him!”
“One of her lovers beat her,” Ryder repeated slowly. “Which one, I wonder? Perhaps Oliver Susson? Now, he’s certainly a vicious brute, isn’t he? No, I think you must be mistaken. He’d already been dismissed, and according to my sources, he didn’t seem at all upset by his dismissal. Who else? Charles Grammond, perhaps? I hear his wife’s a regular tartar, perhaps she did it?”
“Damn you, Sherbrooke! Get them!”
Ryder smiled. “You will now listen to me, Thomas. I think you’re a conscienceless bastard. I will have no more dealings with you. Your master, however, is another matter. Tell him he will hear from me shortly. Now, if you attempt to bring back some of your cronies to Kimberly Hall and cause a ruckus, I will come after you. I will kill you and I will do it very slowly. Do you understand me?”
Thomas didn’t know what to do. He’d told Mr. Burgess that this man wasn’t like the other men here on Montego Bay. This man was hard and smart. “As I told you, Sherbrooke, one of Sophia’s lovers beat her. Her uncle tried to stop it. If she’s told you differently, it’s because she’s ashamed of her notoriety. Now, be sensible. Why would you want to be saddled with a little cripple and a whore?”
Thomas didn’t get out another word. Ryder smashed his fist into his jaw, a hard, clean blow. Then he drew back his right arm and sent his fist into the man’s belly. Thomas yelled as he fell like a stone to the floor.
“James! Ah, I’m glad you’re here. Didn’t go very far, did you? Well, I very much do need your assistance now. Please ask another strong man to take this vermin back to Camille Hall and dump him there. In the dirt. On his face.”
“Yes, massa,” James said and he was smiling. “Dat man a bastid, a real bastid. He look good flat on de floor. No, not a bastid, he be a serpent.”
“His fangs should be dangling loose, at the very least,” Ryder said as he rubbed his knuckles. He frowned down at Thomas. “He’s got a big belly. That’s not good for a man. No, not at all healthy.”
He rubbed his knuckles again as he finished speaking, thinking again how good it had made him feel to vent his rage on that mangy bastard. He looked at Sophie and grinned just as he had before to James. “That’s all that happened. Nothing more. James and another fellow took him away.”
She said, “I’m glad you hit him. I hope you struck him very hard. I’ve wanted to many times. He’s a horrible man. Good heavens, you enjoyed that!”
“Perhaps,” Ryder said with obvious relish. “The man’s a rotter.” He fell silent then and he gave her a brooding look. “However did you manage to get yourself into this ridiculous mess?”
“What do you mean, sir? Ah, you wonder why I chose of my own free will to become a whore? Perhaps why Jeremy decided to become a cripple? I would that you be more specific.”
“You were much easier to handle on your back. You’re all vinegar again.”
“A pity, for you will never see me like that again.”
“Not even when I make love to you again?”
Another very small jerk of her shoulders. Yes, he was getting to knew her quite well.
“Sit down, Sophie. I’ll keep my distance. I don’t wish to frighten you.”
That got to her. Ryder was pleased; he was even grinning shamelessly when she said, “You don’t frighten me. No man frightens me.”
“As a matter of course I would believe you. You appear quite skilled with men. However, I am not other men and I do frighten you. You will admit it eventually and then, I daresay, you’ll be more careful around me. Sit down before I pick you up and set you down.”
She sat down, smoothing the nightshirt over her legs. It occurred to her then that it must surely be odd to be here in a bedchamber with a man wearing only a man’s nightshirt, and that made her smile.
She said then without preamble, “Kimberly Hall belongs to you, not to your brother, the Earl of Northcliffe.”
Ryder stared at her, his mouth open. “What did you say? No, that’s absurd, that’s utter nonsense. Wherever did you get such an idea?”
“Be quiet and attend me. Kimberly Hall belonged to your uncle Brandon. When he died, you inherited his fortune. However, Oliver Susson neglected to attach the specifics of this property to the will he sent back to your family. At the time it was truly an oversight. Also, at the time, I believe your father had just died and thus there was some confusion because the new earl hadn’t sold out yet of the army. Thus, everyone believes that Kimberly belongs to the family—your older brother—not you, to be exact.”
“By God,” Ryder said, staring at her.
“Are you not rather rich for a second son?”
“Yes.”
“Well, now you are even richer for this plantation is yours.”
“I begin to see why Oliver Susson was one of your lovers.”
“Naturally.”
“I did tell Emile that there were always motives. Particularly where you are concerned, Sophie. You would never have become a slut without very strong motives.”
“Understand me, Ryder. I don’t care if you own all of Jamaica. My uncle wanted this plantation and he thought my talents would give him an excellent chance at it. Don’t get me wrong, I was to be used just to soften you up. In his final estimation, he didn’t think you would care about living here, or care about the uncertainty of sugar profits, and thus, you would sell out to him, stuff the guineas in your aristocratic pockets, and sail happily back to England.”
“And at the appropriate time I would have been told by Mr. Susson that Kimberly Hall belonged to me.”
“Yes.”
“And with you as my delightful mistress—you and that other woman with the big breasts of course—I would be delighted to sell to your uncle. Did he intend to send you back with me to England? As my mistress?”
“I don’t know what he planned.”
“Why did you agree to this?”
Her look was hard and cold. “Don’t be absurd. You’re so excellent at assigning motives, why have you let down here? Jeremy was to be his heir if I cooperated. If I didn’t cooperate, he said he would throw both of us out. Jeremy is lame; he would never be able to make his way here.”
“And naturally, you could.”
She didn’t react in any way, merely said in that same cold voice, “Quite probably.”
“Lord David became your lover so that he would fleece Charles Grammond.”
“Yes and he performed admirably.”
“And Charles Grammond was your lover so he would be quite amenable to selling his plantation to your uncle.”
“Yes.”
“How did you ever manage to rid yourself of Lord David?”
She smiled. It was an impish smile, a young smile, and he found himself reacting to it. He realized it was the first genuine smile he’d ever seen from her. “I told him I had the pox.”