But then she saw Graham, head slumped as if he had lost consciousness, body held in place by whoever was braced behind him.
Something was wrong.
Without another thought, she sprinted towards the steps, arriving just as the group reached the front of the house.
“What’s happened?” she asked, her voice panicked. Logan Harris jumped off his horse and came to Graham’s side.
“There was an accident,” Jared said. Graham rolled himself off the horse with a guttural sound. Hope was glad to see that he was conscious after all, but he certainly didn’t sound well. Nor did he look well, though she couldn’t tell right away exactly what was wrong.
“What accident?” she demanded as she went to Graham. Her hands went immediately to his chest, but he hissed at the contact, causing her to pull back. Peering down at her hand,she gasped when she realized it was covered in blood. Her head snapped back up. “Graham?”
“I’ve been shot,” he grumbled, his face wet with perspiration.
“Shot?”
“Fetch a doctor,” Logan was telling one of the groomsmen. “See if Dr. Hall is home. If not, get Barkley.”
“Yes sir,” a groom said, taking a horse.
“We have to get him inside,” Logan said, pulling Graham with him.
Hope had never experienced such panic before in her entire life, and it was all she could do to stay steady on her feet and follow the crush of men as they entered Lismore.
“What’s all this?” Belle asked. Jeanne, Rose, Faith and Grace came out of the drawing room. “What’s wrong?”
“Graham’s been shot!” Hope followed her husband-to-be and Logan on quivery legs. “Have cook—”
“Yes, dear, I know,” Belle said, her usually cheerful face drawn and worried. She hobbled forward appearing to struggle more than usual. “Andrews!”
As Belle barked orders, her cane caught in the lip of one of the flagstones and she let out a yelp of fear as she fell to the ground.
“Aunt Belle!” Hope shouted, dropping to the floor to help her. “Are you all right?”
“Gad, blasted floor!” she barked. “Andrews!”
Hope turned around and watched Logan help Graham up the stairs. She was desperate to follow, but Belle’s breathing wasbecoming labored and a strange sort of whizzing was emanating from her throat.
“Is Aunt Belle all right?” Grace asked, dropping to her knees.
“Faith, follow the men, please,” Hope said, ignoring Grace as Andrews appeared, rushing to his mistress. “I’ll be along in a moment.”
“But—”
“Please, Faith.”
She must have heard the desperation in Hope’s voice, because Faith nodded quickly and turned on her heel, rushing up the stairway as Andrews lifted Belle with apparent ease. Grace followed Belle to her room while Hope began ordering the servants about. She needed hot, clean water brought up to Graham where she suspected Dr. Hall would perform some sort of extraction of the bullet, if he could. Belle would need a bath as well as a poultice made for the bruises she undoubtedly gained during her fall.
It was so unlike her to fall, but Hope suspected the commotion that morning had been enough to distract her from her footing. When the servants were all hard at work on their tasks, Hope went to Belle’s room to check on her. She found Andrews and Grace had taken things into hand.
Grateful, Hope left and followed the sounds of commotion up to the room where they had taken Graham. She focused on the great wooden bed where several men had helped Graham to, along with Faith, who was standing back, her face scrunched her what looked like disbelief.
“Faith?” Hope said, coming up to her and reaching out to touch her elbow. Faith flinched and turned, apparently having just realized Hope was there. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course,” she said unconvincingly.
Hope frowned, but was distracted by a guttural noise coming from Graham.
“Thank you for keeping an eye on things for me,” Hope said as she moved towards the bed, but Faith’s hand wrapped around her wrist. Hope turned back, her frown deepening. “What’s wrong?”
