“A defender tackled him,” Reggie said, his voice preternaturally calm. “His head hit the ground so hard.”
Matthew made low, whining noises by her side, and she grabbed his hand, gave it to Reggie. “Stay here.” Her voice was a rasp, barely audible past the screams she was holding back.
She knew she’d attract attention, but she couldn’t stand there as the men gathered around Archie, couldn’t find a reason tocarewhat others thought of her. Her lungs swelled until her ribs stretched, like they might crack and split through her skin, butthe air burned as it scratched down her throat. She needed to see him—let me see him!—as she hurried along the fence line to the gap, then lifted her hem and ran across the pitch.
Black pushed in on the edges of her vision as she grew closer, saw the pale miens of his teammates, his prone form, the scarlet blood on his temple, on his chest, on the grassoh god no please—
A large arm caught her about the shoulders and turned her away just as she reached the circle of hushed players. “Ma’am, ye can’t go out there.”
She lashed her arms out, pushed the arm away, but he caught her again. A graying man, grizzled and hunched over a cane, watching her with understanding eyes.
“I need t-t-to see him,” she gasped, damn but why wouldn’t her lungs work? “He’s—he’s my—”
Her what? Barrister? Lover? No single word adequately proclaimed what he was to her exceptmine, and she wanted to scream it as she pushed aside anyone who stood between them.
“Ma’am, ye don’t want to cause a scene. It won’t help him.”
She couldn’t help him. She couldn’t eventouchhim, not with everyone watching, everyone knowing who she was. Not without risking the trial, her children.
So she bit her lip and sucked in a shaky breath.
The man shook his head. “Ye shouldn’t stay here.” He lifted his chin towards the sidelines, back where she belonged.
She swallowed her sob, laced her fingers together until her knuckles screamed in protest, then turned, retreated, cowed andhumiliated. Her vision blurred as she fled from the pitch, left him for someone else to attend to his wounds. Left himaloneto suffer.
As though he meant nothing to her.
She remained silent when she reached her place on the far side of the fence, watched as no one moved for so long,why is this taking so long, before someone wheeled a cart onto the pitch. Several of the players lifted his inert body, his bloodied head lolling against his shoulder, and laid him inside. Like he was nothing, something to be discarded.
“Mummy.” Reggie was holding her hand, pulling her away from the fence as spectators scattered, their hushed voices like the roar of crashing waves through the thundering in her ears. At some point, Matthew took her other hand as the men dragged the cart towards the street and hooked it to a horse. She recognized the man who climbed into the cart beside Archie as the one who’d held her back, and she prayed he knew what he was doing, that he would save Archie from whatever horrible thing had happened to him.
And she knew she could never claim him, never be the one by his side when the worst calamities befell them, nor could he be by hers. That he would never hold her hand while she wept or mourned, nor would she be the one he turned to in crisis.
She hated it.
She wanted to rage at the heavens and hell, at all the choices she’d made up to this point, at the cruel injustice of keeping her happiness just out of reach.
She’d vowed to never give a man control of her life again. And at the first opportunity, she’d fallen in love with someone she couldnever have, who would never need her as much as she needed him. A man she could never claim, and who would never claim her, not publicly, not in the way she craved.
A strange calm settled over her, as though she’d reached her capacity for emotions and simply felt… nothing. She was impotent, and nothing she said or did would change her circumstances. Whatever power she had felt in the days prior had dissolved the moment Archie’s head hit the ground.
She squeezed her boys’ hands and cleared her throat. “I’m sure Mr. Grant will have the best doctors looking after him.”
Matthew’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “But will he—”
“He will be fine,” she said, sheprayed. “All we can do is wish him well.”
Chapter 29
Archiefelteverycobblestoneon the route from Leeds to York, the jolts from the hired hack’s wheels reverberating up his spine to the ache in his head. When they rolled to a stop in front of his office, his relief was palpable, and he exhaled with a groan. “Thank you, Owen,” he said. “You didn’t need to stay with me.”
Owen huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best to look supremely put out while simultaneously not letting Archie evade inspection for any maladies the doctors in Leeds hadn’t noticed. “Ye were whinging non-stop, an’ I didn’t want to give the nurses too much trouble.”
“I wasunconscious, Owen.”
He pursed his lips. “I’ve seen worse. A few bruises and a headache is nothin’ to complain about.”
Archie touched his fingers to the bandage wrapping around his temple and winced. “Don’t forget the stitches.” From whathe’d pieced together from Owen’s recalling of the injury and the doctor’s assessment, he had been fortunate. A few bruised ribs and half a dozen stitches across the brow were a trifle compared to what could have happened.
