The Virgin Who Ruined Lord Gray - Anna Bradley Page 0,117

find when she opened it, yet when she saw it with her own eyes her heart rushed into her throat, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “I-I can’t believe it.”

No one who hadn’t seen it with their own eyes could have believed it, but the proof was right there in the palm of her hand.

“Poole’s dagger went through the lid of the locket, and left a deep puncture in the bottom half.” Lady Clifford traced a fingertip over the gouge there. “It was a near thing, but the blade didn’t go all the way through.”

The dagger hadn’t touched Tristan’s heart. The locket had stopped it.

“What is it? Let me see.” Cecilia leaned closer to peer over Sophia’s shoulder. She let out a soft exclamation and reached out to touch the hole in the center of the locket. “My goodness, that’s astonishing! I’ve never seen anything like that in my entire life.”

Sophia ran her thumb over the hole wonderingly, then looked up at Lady Clifford. “But how? Tristan was bleeding. I saw the blood myself—”

“Lord Gray didn’t escape unscathed, unfortunately. Giles Wakeford thinks the dagger glanced off the locket when Poole brought it down in the center of Lord Gray’s chest. The blade likely skidded sideways. It left his lordship with a nasty wound, but it prevented the knife from reaching his heart.”

Sophia stared at Lady Clifford, too stunned to speak.

Her locket…it was precious to her, special, yet she’d given it up to Mr. Hogg the day she and Tristan had gone to Newgate to see Jeremy. It had pained her to lose it, especially to someone so loathsome as Hogg, but she’d given it up for Jeremy’s sake.

Then Tristan had got it back again, for hers.

That it should be the locket that saved Tristan’s life, when it had been Tristan who’d rescued it for her, that the kindness he’d shown her had been the means by which his life had been saved…dear God, even she couldn’t deny there was something mystical there, a sort of otherworldly balance.

Fate, or perhaps a perfect iteration of justice.

Lady Clifford’s dark blue eyes met Sophia’s. “If Lord Gray hadn’t been wearing the locket—if the blade had touched his heart—he’d be dead now. Your locket saved his heart, and then you saved his life, my dear, when you hit Poole with the cross before he could stab Lord Gray a second time.”

“My goodness, Sophia.” Cecilia squeezed Sophia’s arm, nearly breathless with the romance of it. “A dagger-wielding villain in a dark graveyard, and a magical locket that saves the hero’s life? Why, it’s a Gothic romance come alive! Mrs. Radcliffe herself couldn’t have written a more perfect ending!”

Sophia gave a shaky laugh. It did sound like something out of one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s romances. She was an unlikely enough heroine—so much so she could hardly credit such an ending could belong to her—but despite her many imperfections, she loved Tristan with all her heart.

Perhaps that was all it took for a happy ending?

Lady Clifford wrapped Sophia’s slack fingers around the locket. “Lord Gray had fallen into an uneasy sleep when I left his bedchamber just now, but he asked for you over and over again tonight—each time he regained consciousness. Indeed, when he was at his most agitated Daniel was obliged to hold him down. He’ll likely sleep for some time, but I think he’ll be quite pleased to see you when he wakes again.”

“Yes, you must be waiting by his bedside when his eyelids flutter open, Sophia.” Cecilia took Sophia’s hand and tugged her from the bed. “That’s what a proper heroine would do.”

Sophia closed the locket tightly in her fist and rose from the bed, leaving her dread behind her in the tangled sheets. She was more than ready to see her hero.

* * * *

Sophia’s courage nearly deserted her when she crept into Tristan’s bedchamber. She paused at the door, her heart swelling into her throat at how pale and still he was.

He was lying on his back in the center of the bed, his arms laid carefully at his sides. The coverlet was pulled down just enough so she could see his bare chest and torso were wrapped heavily in bandages. A bit of blood was already pooling over his breastbone, despite the fresh dressing.

Sophia edged closer and took his hand in hers. His skin was cool and dry, his fingers slack. He didn’t react when she touched him, not even a twitch of his eyes under his eyelids.