Page 62 of Solving Sophronia

“Or he’s just waiting for us to go after the others,” Jonathan said.

“Can’t leave them there.” Sergeant Lester peeked out again. “And someone must have heard the shots.”

“Agreed,” Jonathan said. The sergeant was right. The shooter wouldn’t continue to fire, not from his current location anyway. The noise would have drawn attention from the others in the building. Most likely, he was already on the run.

Jonathan started to move, but Sophie grabbed one of his arms. “No! You can’t go out there!” Her voice was high, and he could hear the panic in it.

She twisted around, clutching him with both hands now. Tears glimmered on her cheeks in the moonlight, and her breathing came in bursts.

Inside Jonathan’s chest something cracked. In light of what he’d told Miss Miller only half an hour earlier, why had he permitted Sophie to come? Why had he allowed her to be part of the case at all? He cupped her cheek. “The shooter’s gone now, Sophie. I must help the others.”

She nodded and leaned her face in to his hand. “Please be careful. I couldn’t bear it if—” Her voice caught, and another tear spilled from her eye.

“Stay here.” Jonathan pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled away. He motioned for the sergeant to follow. Keeping low, they made their way back to the others.

When he reached Merryweather, Jonathan pushed the man onto his back. Merryweather’s chest was wet, but no wound was visible in the darkness. Jonathan pulled off his gloves and touched his neck, relieved to feel a heartbeat.

“Tucker’s dead,” Sergeant Lester said.

Jonathan nodded. “Help me move Merryweather.”

They dragged the constable through the door to where Sophie waited with a wide-eyed stablemaster and a younger boy.

She retrieved a lantern and brought it close, gasping when she saw the blood on Constable Merryweather’s chest, but she didn’t draw away. She set down the lantern and knelt beside the constable, brushing damp hair from the injured man’s forehead.

Sergeant Lester pulled open the man’s shirt, revealing the wound.

Jonathan forced away the painful flashes of memory at seeing a friend lying unresponsive and bleeding. The stablemaster brought some cloth, and Jonathan instructed Sophie to hold it against the wound. She looked much calmer already, and he knew having a task would help keep her panic at bay.

“Send for Miss Thornton,” Sophie said to the stablemaster, her voice still shaky. “Inside the assembly hall. She is a nurse.”

The man nodded and motioned for the boy to do so.

Sergeant Lester stood and used a knife to dig a bullet from the doorframe. He held the bit of metal close to the lantern. “Thirty-eight caliber,” he muttered.

“A pistol,” Jonathan said. “Easy to hide.”

“Good aim,” Sergeant Lester said, pocketing the bullet.

A hunter.Jonathan stood, feeling anger rise inside him. One of his men was down and their best witness dead. He ripped off the mustache and removed his jacket. “Enough games. Sergeant, call for Dr. Peabody. And I want every available officer. Close the stable yard gates. Block the exits. Nobody leaves this blasted party until we’ve spoken to each and every last guest.”

Chapter 18

The next morning Sophie lefther bedchamber much later than usual. She could already hear her mother and Prissy in the dining room and paused on the upstairs landing, wanting a few more moments to herself before joining them.

She turned away from the rail, leaning back and allowing all the emotions from the night before to rush over her. The utter terror at being under fire and watching a man die before her eyes squeezed her heart, constricting it in a vice. Her mind had gone completely blank as panic froze her body and thoughts, but Jonathan had known exactly what to do. He’d pulled her to safety, held her, comforted her... The vice loosened, and a warmth filled her as she remembered the feel of being held.

Sophie hadn’t told anyone aside from Mimi and her grandmother’s friends about the dance and her reaction. And though she’d initially balked at the women’s explanation, chalking it up to teasing or the elderly ladies’ misunderstanding the situation, now... now she believed they might be right in their assumption.

Even as he’d directed the questioning of guests and the search of the assembly hall, Jonathan had remained in close contact as she and Hazel tended to the constable and waited for the doctor. Sophie would never have believed herself to be one of those women who wished to be mollycoddled, but she found it a very pleasant sensation to know that Jonathan’s thoughts had often turned to her through the course of his work. He’d been worried for her but had also kept her appraised on the status of the investigation, likely knowing she’d pester him with questions if he didn’t.

A set of pistols had been found in a storage closet, but they had no identifying marks. Their owner was still unknown. Sergeant Lester believed the shooter, or shooters, had fled. “Wouldn’t linger, waiting to be caught, would they?” he’d asked.

Once the doctor had taken Merryweather and Mr. Tucker’s body away, Jonathan had insisted Hazel and Elizabeth accompany Sophie home. He’d held her hand as the carriage was sent for, and when the other women had climbed inside, he’d pulled her into a tight embrace. Though he’d said nothing, she’d understood completely. The terror they’d experienced and the relief that they had both come away unharmed—the feelings were impossible to express in words. But they couldn’t go unshared. She’d held him tightly as well.

A sigh escaped, and Sophie pressed her hands to her pounding heart as she walked down the stairs, savoring the memory of that moment.

The bliss fled, however, once she entered the dining room.

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