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“Which is why my father called me in to look into it,” Jeb soothed. “Believe me when I tell you that the thief shall be brought to justice.”
Jeb only prayed to God that Sophia wasn’t stealing because he was fairly sure that he just couldn’t bring himself to drag her in front of the magistrate.
Once back at Delilah’s, Sophia dug around in the bottom of her cloak for her key and let herself into the house. She made her way to the bureau and quickly poured herself a shot of brandy before she refilled her glass and took a seat before the fireplace.
Thankfully she had the house to herself for a while, and savoured the silence while she gathered her thoughts. She needed to try to decide what to do next, but all she could focus on was Jeb, and what he might think of her now.
Physically shaking with nerves and worry, she swiped at the tears on her lashes. She couldn’t risk returning the rest of the stolen items now. Should she just hand everything over to Jeb, tell him what she knew, and then leave? She could then catch the next post-chaise out of the village and talk to Hooky face-to-face what Delilah was up to from the relative safety of home. If the magistrate wanted to talk to her then he could find her in Bentley. Unfortunately, she was horribly aware that by leaving, she would just make herself look guilty, especially to Jeb.
She now had to decide whether to write Jeb a note and, if she did that, what on earth she could say to him? If she told him what was going on, and Jeb searched the house, Delilah could point the finger at Sophia, or claim not to know anything about any stolen goods that were found. Sophia had no doubt that her aunt would point the blame at her just to get herself out of trouble. Because of that, and the fact that she couldn’t live with that weight of guilt she would feel if she didn’t do something about them, she was now stuck in Framley Meadow until they had left the house.
What do I do now? She thought desperately as she stared blankly at the goblet in her hand.
She didn’t see it, or its contents, as she contemplated the fraught moments in the study. Jeb had been so handsome in his evening attire that it had been a miracle she had been able to say anything to him at all.
Before she could make any decisions on, well, anything, a series of rapid knocks on the front door shattered the silence. At first, she contemplated whether to answer it or not. Thankfully, the curtains were closed and she hadn’t lit any candles, but when another series of knocks sounded again, she knew she wouldn’t rest until she opened the door and talked to him.
Jeb didn’t bother to wait to be invited in.
“Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?” Jeb snapped without preamble as he kicked the door closed behind him.
He grabbed her shoulders to hold her still when she tried to back away from him. She was going nowhere until she told him everything. Blanking out the fragility of her thin frame beneath his fingers, he kept his hold firm as he waited for her reply.
“I take it you saw me then?” she whispered battling a fresh wave of tears.
It was wonderful to be so close to him again. If only it could be in better circumstances.
“Tell me you were putting them back,” he pleaded in a voice no less ferocious than his demand.
“Of course, I was,” she protested. “How could you think I would take them?”
Tears gathered on her lashes. The fact that there was someone there,
especially someone as strong and capable as Jeb, meant that for the first time since she had found the stolen items in her aunt’s drawer she could confide in someone, and it was a blessed relief.
“Did you take them?” Jeb growled.
“Of course, I didn’t,” she whispered. “Delilah is the thief, Jeb, not me.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She closed her eyes when she said it and just couldn’t keep the tears back a moment longer. A sob escaped her.
“She has been stealing from everyone, Jeb,” she whispered. “It is not me, I swear it. Delilah is the thief.”
Jeb, completely lost for words, hauled her into his arms. He was quietly horrified, angry at Delilah, angry at Sophia for not trusting him in the first place but overall, stupendously relieved that she had finally confided in him.
He held her against him while she wept into his shoulder, and suspected from the way she was sobbing her heart out that she had been worried sick about what to do. Almost certainly, this was the reason for the ill-feeling between her and her aunt. He had just gotten the truth. He had no doubt in the world that it had been her who had, somehow, returned the hairbrushes to the Harvells the other day.
He just had to find out what the hell Delilah was stealing for, and where the rest of the stolen items were now.
“It will be alright, Sophia. I will help you with this,” he promised.
“I just don’t know what to do anymore. She won’t listen to me. I told her to put them back but she won’t. I found your father’s trinket boxes when we got back from your father’s dinner the other day. I refused to let her keep them and wanted to get them back to you but couldn’t knock on the door and hand them over, so I decided to leave them in the study tonight. I tried to get Delilah to return the Harvell’s hairbrushes as well, but she refused.”
More touched than ever at her honesty, Jeb began to place random kisses in her hair as he listened. Each word reiterated that he was right about the kind of woman she was, and that theirs was a future that must be together. It felt entirely natural to stand there murmuring endearments to her while she wept. It didn’t occur to him to stop, even when her sobbing eventually subsided and silence settled around them.
“I am sorry, I have gotten your shirt all wet,” she whispered, making no attempt to pull away. She wasn’t sure why she had just unloaded everything onto him. He was just so solid, so reassuringly masculine and dependable, that she couldn’t help herself. Throughout it all, he hadn’t once said anything to condemn her in any way. He had just listened to her tirade and offered her comfort.
