‘From a distance. He was tending to the wounded who have been carried to a temporary hospital on the stage. I imagine he’s desperate to find you so we’d better hurry back before he sets off to hunt.’ He looked down. ‘Oh, your foot!’
‘Lost a shoe– nothing worse.’ They began moving back towards the concert stage. Percy trailed behind them.
‘Are you not going to introduce me?’ the Frenchman called from behind.
‘No,’ said Dora.
They arrived at the same time as the Russian doctors who took over the care of the count. Dora hurried to Jacob’s side.
‘You’re bleeding,’ she said, noticing a trickle of blood on his neck.
He touched the tip of his ear. ‘I think a splinter caught me here.’
‘Let me look.’ She pulled his head down. There was a nick on the top edge. ‘You’re hurt here, but not badly.’
‘The helix?’
‘Is that what it’s called? I didn’t know. Live and learn. I have the remedy for it.’
His eyes softened in a smile. ‘Oh, yes?’
She kissed it better. ‘There.’
He hugged her to him. ‘Thank God you’re all right. There was a boy– crushed. I couldn’t do anything for him.’
‘Oh, Jacob. That wasn’t your fault.’
‘Wasn’t it? Was someone trying to get us? We’ve been attacked so many times over the past two days, I can’t believe it is coincidence.’
She squeezed him tightly. ‘This was planned in advance. Who knew we would be here? Percy thought they were aiming for him, but surely he came on a whim? I imagine Count Vorontsov might consider he was the target. But perhaps it was a ghastly accident? They are common enough on stage.’
He set her away from him and gave a firm nod. Her Jacob didn’t like showing any weakness before others. ‘You’re right. We mustn’t jump to conclusions. Cool heads and all that.’
‘Are you finished here?’ she looked around at the row of injured people waiting for stretchers to carry them out of the gardens.
‘I should stay till all my patients are gone.’
‘Then I will make myself useful and ask the stagehands what happened. I think they are more likely to talk to me than to you.’
‘How so?’
‘The authorities will be looking for someone to blame and the stagehands are in the frame for it.’
‘And I seem too official?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Very well then. But don’t leave on your own.’
She kissed his cheek. ‘Same goes for you, Dr Sandys.’
Just as she was about to find the backstage crew, Madame Catalani approached, holding a pair of slippers.
‘Miss Fitz-Pennington, I could not help but notice you’ve lost a shoe. Would you like to borrow these? I have a spare pair.’
‘Thank you. I am much obliged.’ Untying the handkerchief, Dora wriggled her feet into them, finding she took the same size as her heroine.
‘Unlike Cinderella, you have found your prince already, I see, without the intervention of a lost slipper.’ The soprano’s gaze was on Jacob. He made a fine sight, looking rakishly dishevelled, sleeves rolled up to display capable arms, bronzed after their stay in the Lakes. His expression was compassionate as he listened to a girl’s account of how she came to twist her ankle while he bandaged her injury. ‘Is he the one the newspapers say you are going to marry?’ At Dora’s surprised look, the singer smiled slightly. ‘Yes, I too read the gossip, though one seldom comes across anything good about oneself in that column.’
