Page 22 of Summoner of Sins

“Sophie?” Abigail asked, her voice wobbling with her fear.

“Come here, love,” Sophie crooned, and then, somehow, Abigail wormed her way between them, pressing into the middle of their embrace.

For a moment, Sophie wondered how Max might respond to a child joining their embrace. He’d already saved Abigail, she didn’t expect him to give the child affection. However, he kept his arms around them both, holding them tightly. Sophie’s heart swelled in her chest. What would she give to call a man like this her own? Had she really thought him frightening? He was the best man she’d ever met.

She curled around Abigail, resting her forehead on his collarbone. “Max?”

“Yes.”

“Where are we going?”

“The Duke of Ironheart’s home.”

“Who is he?”

“A friend,” he said, grimacing. “With an army of footmen and the social sway to stay an earl.”

“I don’t think Lord Whitehouse follows normal rules,” she whispered. None of these men did. Max had removed her from an earl’s home without much bother. Much as she’d like to think she was safe now, what was stopping the earl from stealing her right back?

Max seemed to understand. “I’ll get you out of London as soon as I know where to take you. Lady Tabetha is searching for relatives now.”

“Tabbie helped you?” Her heart swelled to think of having friends who’d come to her aid.

“Yes.”

She heard the creaking swing of large metal gates as the carriage slowed. They moved through the gates, the metal clanking behind them as the gate closed again.

She swallowed down a lump. She wasn’t certain she wanted to go anywhere that Max wasn’t. “You’re certain that Ironheart can be trusted?”

“Yes.” He gave her another squeeze. “But I’ll stay too.”

“Thank goodness.” She sighed. She didn’t say more because she felt him stiffen underneath her.

Had she given away too much? Put some sort of pressure on him? She was a woman with no social connection, little money, and no family other than a child who needed to be cared for. In the best of circumstances, Max would never be hers. She hadn’t meant it like that. She just felt safe with him nearby.

The carriage came to a stop as they attempted to untangle themselves from the floor of the carriage. Once they’d all managed to climb out, Sophie realized the bodice of her gown was hanging off one shoulder, completely in tatters.

Her face flamed as they walked past several assembled servants, but Max looked completely at ease. “Doctor,” he said to the most matronly of the women, likely the housekeeper.

“Yes, my lord.” She curtseyed. “Right away.”

“My lord,” a man stepped forward. “What happened?”

“Bullet,” Max said, pointing toward her back. In the carriage, he’d spoken full, unbroken sentences.

Now, while he wasn’t stuttering, he only spoke a word at a time.

The butler stepped around her, assessing her skin. “A scratch.”

“Feel…her…dress,” Max said the three words slowly.

The butler pulled the fabric away from her skin and she heard him gasp as he tugged, dislodging a bullet and a coin. He dropped them both into her hand.

She shook her head. She’d sewn the coins into the gown for protection. She’d just never considered that it would be that kind of protection. “Unbelievable.”

Max pulled her close again, his arms wrapping around her in front of the entire staff. Then he whispered in her ear. “I still want you to be seen by a doctor.”

She swallowed. “All right.”

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