“It’s not fatal,” he managed through clenched teeth. “Shoulder. Clean shot. I can feel the exit wound.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, voice shaking as she tore a strip from her skirt and pressed it to the wound. Her fingers were slick with his blood. “You don’t…Winston, look at me.”
He did. Her eyes were wild with fear, with fury, with love she hadn’t yet named aloud when he was awake. Behind them, Pike had regained his composure. He drew a pistol of his own and now stood over Harston, who moaned in a fevered stupor.
“Lord Harston,” Pike said sharply, “can you hear me?”
Harston’s head lolled. “She…she…I…” He swallowed, eyes rolling. “I poisoned her. The old woman. The Dowager. Tainted her cordial. Blame the girl. Blame her…”
Pike’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you, now?”
Harston muttered something unintelligible, then, clearer: “She deserved it. All of them. Ungrateful…traitors…”
Pike exchanged a glance with Mrs. Grogan, who clutched the doorframe as if it were the only thing holding her upright.
“That will do,” Pike said. “Your Grace, I believe Bow Street’s requirements are met.”
“You’re arresting him?” Adeline asked, her hands still pressed to Winston’s bleeding shoulder.
“With pleasure,” Pike said curtly. “Two witnesses to the murder of Lady Harston. A confession, however muddled, to poisoning the Dowager Duchess. The attempted murder of a Duke. Quite the list.”
Harston groaned, barely conscious. Pike knelt and bound his wrists with a strip of curtain cord. “In the name of the King, Lord Harston, you are under arrest.”
Adeline sagged with relief, and fear. She turned her attention back to Winston, who had gone pale but had not fainted.
“Stay with me,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Please.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, trying for steadiness and managing only halfway. “You hit him hard.”
“He deserved worse,” she said fiercely. Her hands trembled as she pressed the blood-soaked cloth tighter. “Let me fetch water. Let me…”
“Adeline.” His good hand lifted weakly, brushing her cheek. “Listen to me.”
She leaned close, tears spilling unchecked. “I’m here.”
He swallowed, wincing. “I should have said it sooner.”
“Said what?”
“That I love you.”
Her breath caught. She froze.
He went on, words sanded by pain but undeniable. “I love you. I’ve loved you longer than I had any right to. And if you don’t marry me, I’ll…” He gritted his teeth as the pain knifed through his shoulder. “I’ll get myself shot again.”
A sob of laughter burst through her tears. “That’s not funny.”
“No,” he said. “But it’s true.”
She pressed her forehead to his, trembling. “Winston. You can’t ask me now. You’re bleeding. You can barely breathe.”
“I know what I’m saying,” he whispered. “Marry me. Let’s put an end to running. To lies. To all of it. Stay at Greystone. Stay with me.”
Her tears fell onto his cheek.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll marry you. I love you. I love you so much I…I can’t breathe without it hurting.”
He let out a shaking breath, relief softening the line of his mouth. “Good.”
