Khaled said, “I was an idiot not to check Yusuf for another weapon. I could have gotten you killed, Lady Elizabeth. Thank you for putting him down, Rome.” He frowned. “But you know, I liked him. A pity the choices he made.”
Rome said matter-of-factly, “I wish I hadn’t killed him, because he might have told us who’s behind all this. You have no idea, Khaled?”
Khaled shook his head.
Elizbeth leaned against the torn-up seat, stared out at the carnage, two dead men and Adara Said, her hand pressed against the back of her leg. It had happened so quickly. Life and death, decided in seconds.
Rome leaned in, checked her wound again. He closed his eyes a moment, then kissed her forehead. “Hang in there, kiddo.”
“My plan exactly, Special Agent.” Elizabeth didn’t feel any pain, only a relentless chill. She saw two cars had stopped on the country road, waiting to pass. No doubt the police had gotten calls from both of them. No one got out to help or to ask what happened. She couldn’t blame them. Through the blur of rain, she saw a man’s face through his windscreen, snapping photos on his mobile. She pressed Rome’s shirt harder against her neck, watched Rome and Khaled motion the cars to pass slowly through.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Darlington Hall
One hour later
Even now, as Rome sat beside Elizabeth in the Darlington Hall drawing room, pressing one of the earl’s handkerchiefs lightly against her neck, the same thoughts careened again and again through his brain. If the bullet had struck her neck an inch inward, she’d have bled to death; he couldn’t have saved her. And yet again, Rome shook his head. She’d be fine. She Would Be Fine. Adara Said was on her way to the hospital, Yusuf and the other man, whose name Rome didn’t know yet, had been picked up in a coroner’s wagon headed for the morgue. Still, even now it was over, the familiar fear broiled in his belly, and with it rage, rock-solid rage. Who was the “he” the woman Adara had yelled about?
The earl paced, his eyes never leaving his daughter. He’d canceled his planned meeting with the Home Secretary when his daughter had arrived home wounded. He said again, “We should have you transported to St. George’s Hospital, Elizabeth. You must let us take you.”
“Father, you’ve seen the wound,” Elizabeth said for at least the third time. “It’s only a gash, a small, shallow little gash. The last thing I want to do is drive off to hospital. We rushed back home rather than call you so you could see for yourself I’m fine.Dr. Benton-Johns will be here in a few minutes, and he will agree with me.”
Millicent managed a watery laugh. She stroked Elizabeth’s fingers. “You’re very brave, my darling.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I didn’t do much of anything helpful, just got myself shot. No, maybe I did hit one of them, but it didn’t bring him down. I’m sorry, Rome.”
Millicent swallowed. “If Dr. Benton-Johns believes you should go to hospital, you will go?”
“Let’s wait and see, Mother. I’m quite comfortable on this sofa, and I promise not to move.” Her neck was burning, but she could easily bear it, maybe because the aspirin Rome had given her was finally kicking in. Rome lifted the handkerchief he’d been pressing against her wound. “No more bleeding. And you’re not as pale as you were. How’s the pain?”
She poked him in the arm. “Get off your worry horse, all is good.”
He wondered if he could trust her to tell the truth about the pain with her parents there. He’d wanted to carry her into the Hall, but Elizabeth hadn’t let him, insisted she was ambulatory, thank you very much. “Everyone’s coming. I don’t want to scare them to death.” Benbett was hovering soon enough, directing them unnecessarily toward the drawing room, but Rome let him do it, knew he had to feel like he was doing something to help. Even the cook arrived, flapping her apron.
He said again to her parents, “I don’t believe she’ll need stitches. I think sterilizing the wound and Steri-Strips will be enough.”
She started to turn her head to face him, winced. “Mom, Dad, please, I’m not going to die. Dad, loosen your jaw and talk to me. I heard you speaking to Mr. Eiserly. What did he have to say?”
“Only that the van was stolen. He’ll come back to me when he has more information.” He didn’t look happy.
Elizabeth gave him a grin. “Thank you for kissing off the Home Secretary to stay with me. What did Lord Corinth have to say about that impertinence? I mean, I wasn’t dead, after all.”
Benbett came back into the drawing room carrying a silver tray. “What you need, my lady, is another cup of tea. I brewed it myself. And Cook has added some sugar biscuits, as her ladyship suggested.”
Rome smiled. Tea seemed to be the Brits’ restorative for every condition, be it hysteria or a bullet wound. But he didn’t leave her side. Touching her, hearing her talk, calmed him.
Benbett announced, “And finally—Dr. Benton-Johns is here, my lady.”
Dr. Benton-Johns, a spry seventy-five, came striding into the drawing room. She turned her head slightly to see him, regretted it. Her mother noticed her grimace and covered her hand.
“Hello, Dr. Benton-Johns,” Elizabeth said. “A pleasure to see you again. I will give you a dozen of Cook’s sticky buns if you pronounce me good to go.”
“Do not wish to go to the hospital, do we? All right, so we have a bullet wound, I’m told. Let me cast a sapient eye at your neck and make my pronouncement. Are the sticky buns fresh out of the oven?”
“Yes, sir. Lots of pecans on top.”
Elizabeth remembered she’d always loved to hear him talk. His expressions were quite unexpected. She held her teacup between her palms and savored its warmth as Dr. Benton-Johns examined and cleaned the wound with alcohol, well aware everyone’s eyes were on his every move. He reassured them all as he worked, aware the young man next to him—an FBI agent!—was eyeing him as if he’d shoot him if he hurt her. He lightly rubbed on an antibiotic cream, pulled the flesh together with Steri-Strips, flattened a small bandage over the strips, gave her a tetanus shot, and held out two bottles of pills. “Yourneck will cause you only a modicum of discomfort over the next few days, provided you take two aspirin every four hours. You have a bit of tea left; take one of those antibiotic pills and two aspirin now. They will make all neck unpleasantness dematerialize in short order. No driving and keep your head still for a day and a half.” He patted her head, rose, and smiled down at the lovely too-pale young woman he’d known since she was born. “I didn’t bring a lolly for you, sorry. No hospital needed. Where are my sticky buns?”
