Lizzie was all but dragging Katherine as they stepped out into the cool night air. She looked around the terrace, but Morgan was not there. She stepped up to the terrace wall. She leaned on it with both hands and peered into the night. The moon was full, so it cast a glow across the grounds that would help their search.
But there was nothing to be found. She looked up and down the paths and corners of the garden below. But then, in the distance, over by where the new gazebo was almost complete, she saw something. A flash of movement.
Her heart raced and she pointed. “There!”
She didn’t wait for a response, though she heard Katherine say, “Where?” as she rushed down the stairs. She weaved through the garden, wishing the paths hadn’t been made so intricate. And as she came around the last corner, she saw him.
Morgan lay on his back, arms sprawled at his sides. He was unconscious, both his eyes were bruised and there was blood trickling from the corner of his lip.
“Morgan!” she screamed and dropped down beside him.
Katherine skidded to a stop and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Great God! I’ll get the others!”
She pivoted and ran away, leaving Lizzie with Morgan. She reached out, hesitating because she feared harming him more. “Morgan,” she said, this time softer. “Oh please, you must open your eyes. Please look at me.”
He made a soft moan, a pained sound, and her heart leapt as his dark eyes came open. “Elizabeth,” he whispered.
She shifted and lifted his head into her lap so he would no longer have to rest it on the cold, hard ground. “What happened?” she whispered. “Stay awake now, love, and tell me what happened.”
He blinked hard and the pain of that action fluttered across his handsome face. “Struck…from behind. Dangerous.”
“Yes,” she soothed, smoothing a lock of hair from his forehead and looking at the bruise at his temple. He was struck from more than just behind. “Whoever did this is certainly dangerous.”
“I’m dangerous,” he corrected, and his gaze got a bit wild. “I’mdangerous, Elizabeth.”
She didn’t get a chance to respond to that statement. The crowd began to stream from the ballroom, people shouting and racing toward them. Robert, Hugh and Ewan burst into the small area first with their wives at their heels. All the color went out of Robert’s face as he looked down at his brother.
Morgan’s gaze was starting to clear and he forced a tight smile. “Not so pretty now, am I?”
“Do shut up,” Katherine snapped. “Can you stand?”
Morgan glanced at Elizabeth. She shifted, gripping his arm to help him as he struggled first to his knees and then slowly tried to get up further. He staggered, and before she had to catch him, Ewan stepped forward and caught him beneath the armpits. The Duke of Donburrow was a massive man and he held Morgan upright like he weighed nothing. Morgan leaned heavily on him and Lizzie squeezed his arm before she released him.
“My head is spinning,” Morgan muttered.
“What happened?” Hugh asked as he looked over his shoulder. All along the terrace, the guests were lined up, watching the drama below unfold. Lizzie could hear them on the paths, too. Curious onlookers, gossips and those with true concern over the injury of a guest. It didn’t matter their intent—the outcome of their observations would be the same.
Rumors.
Lizzie swallowed past the lump in her throat. “He’s injured,” she said as she found her voice. “We can talk about the particulars once we get him inside, can’t we?”
The question seemed to snap the others from their shock. Robert lunged forward and slung Morgan’s arm around his neck. Together he and Ewan began helping Morgan up the path, the other women circling around the three, clearing the crowd and calling out comfort to those they saw along the way.
Lizzie pivoted on Hugh. “He was attacked,” she said.
His eyes widened. “He told you that?”
“Yes, and not much more. So when you are sending for the doctor, may I also recommend you send for the guard?”
Hugh stared down at her, eyes slightly wide. “Anything else, my lady?” he asked.
Her cheeks heated at the pointed question, but she ignored the embarrassment when she thought of Morgan’s statement that he was dangerous. He believed it. Believed he had somehow earned the attack on his life.
She waved her brother up the path. “Go then!” she said.
He was shaking his head as he rushed up to the join the others. She followed close behind, and at the entrance back onto the path, she turned. The grass was flattened where the struggle between Morgan and his attacker or attackers had occurred. She saw the boot scrapes and the divots, and she shivered.
She was about to catch up with the others on the path when the moonlight from above glinted on something in the dust. She stepped closer, and there was a cufflink smashed into the dirt. She picked it up and turned it over. It was a flat disk of gold, impressed with the initialsG.C. Not Morgan’s then. Perhaps the man who had attacked him.
