The Virgin Who Ruined Lord Gray - Anna Bradley Page 0,31

did you hope to gain with such a trick? To see Sharpe taken up for theft?”

Sophia’s gaze followed the locket as it swung gently back and forth in Lord Gray’s long, scarred fingers. She clenched her hands in her lap to keep from snatching it away from him.

Her memories of her mother were worn and faded now, like a letter she’d read too often, but the locket was different. It was something Sophia could hold in her hand, tangible proof of a mother she’d loved, and failed, and now could no longer remember.

It was the only possession she had that was truly hers, that meant something to her. Losing it would be as painful as severing a limb, but planting it on Sharpe was the only way she could think of to gain the upper hand on him. She’d been willing to risk sacrificing it for Jeremy’s sake, yes, but she’d had every intention of getting it back.

Lord Gray was wrong about one thing, though. She hadn’t intended for Sharpe to be taken up for theft. Sophia didn’t have any faith in the justice system, but she did respect the justice of the streets. She’d been well aware once she cried theft the men at the pub wouldn’t bother to verify the crime before they threatened to beat Sharpe bloody.

Sharpe was a coward, like most men of his ilk, the sort who collapsed at the first threat of violence. Sophia had planned to let him panic for a while, then withdraw her accusation just in time to save him—provided, of course, he chose to be forthcoming about his reasons for accusing Jeremy of theft.

It wasn’t, admittedly, one of her cleverest plans, but after listening to Sharpe’s testimony this morning she’d been desperate to do something, to somehow hold him to account for his lies.

Lady Clifford was going to be appalled when she found out what Sophia had done. Above all else, she’d taught them to be cautious. Cautiousness, alas, had never been Sophia’s strength. She tended to leap first, then figure out the rest while she was flying through the air.

Unnecessary risk, Sophia.

Except to Sophia’s thinking, it was necessary. Jeremy hadn’t committed any crime. Sharpe hadn’t accused Jeremy because he was guilty, so he must have done it for some other reason. Sophia wanted to know what it was, and she’d been close to finding it out before Lord Gray had rendered all her efforts on Jeremy’s behalf useless.

Again.

“Miss Monmouth? Would you care to explain to me why you attempted to frame Mr. Sharpe for a crime of which he’s innocent?”

Another laugh rose to Sophia’s lips, the taste of it bitter on her tongue. Peter Sharpe might not have taken her locket, but he was far from innocent. It mattered little to her which crime he was punished for, as long as he was punished.

But Lord Gray wouldn’t see it that way, would he? No, the way he saw it, people like him decided questions of guilt or innocence. People like her and Jeremy explained themselves, then begged for forgiveness. Ironic, really, since pleas for mercy never seemed to mean much to men like Lord Gray.

She’d get nowhere with him, even if she told him the truth. Perhaps especially then.

The truth certainly hadn’t done Jeremy any good, had it? Anyone who’d seen him today should have recognized he wasn’t capable of deception, yet it had taken less than half an hour for him to be tried, found guilty, and sentenced to death.

Sophia tore her gaze from the locket and met Lord Gray’s forbidding wolf’s eyes. “Tell me, my lord. What was your impression of the court proceedings today?”

“Are you questioning me now, Miss Monmouth?”

She shrugged. “I simply wondered if you found anything distasteful about it.”

His face hardened. “I saw a guilty man sentenced to death as punishment for a despicable crime. There’s nothing distasteful in that.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s what you would see. I thought you more perceptive than that, but it’s easier to see precisely what you expected, isn’t it?”

With a quick snap of his fingers, her locket disappeared into his fist. “It sounds as if you’re accusing me of something. May I ask what it is you think I’ve done?”

So polite, so correct and courteous, yet Sophia could see the arrogance there, his certainty that he must be in the right. “I accuse you of willful blindness, my lord. It’s not an uncommon failing, but still a grievous one.”

Oh, he didn’t care for that. That accusation had gotten