The color drained from her cheeks, and her blue eyes dulled.
The gun Maria had used was tossed to the floor, landing next to him, but Victor didn’t have time to worry about her reasons.
“Why?” he demanded.
“For you…the money…you are free…”
“Oh, Charlotte. I do not care about money. Only you. I love you.”
She frowned. “You love me?”
How could that even be a question, except Victor realized that he had never told her. “Yes, I love you. I need you. You are my heart. Do not leave me.” His own eyes filled with tears as he realized what he may lose.
“Our child.” How could she risk their child for him?
A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and trailed down her temple and into her raven hair. “I…” her eyes closed. “…sorry.”
She then went limp, and Victor quickly felt for a pulse before yelling for someone to send for a doctor.
Chapter 35
Afootmanracedoutof the library, and it was then that Victor realized that others had come into the room. They likely ran in here when they heard the gunshot. Marcus stood at the door to the terrace, his eyes wide with shock.
Charlotte grew heavy in his arms. “Is there somewhere that I can put her?”
“The settee. I would not move her any further,” a servant said.
Victor rose and carried Charlotte to the settee and laid her gently upon it. She was still breathing, but it was so light. He couldn’t lose her, but with each moment that passed, as blood spread, he feared that she might slip away forever.
The housekeeper that he remembered from the only time he’d been here before settled beside him. “Press this cloth to the wound,” she instructed.
Victor automatically complied and glanced up once to note Maria edging toward the entry.
Rage boiled in his veins. “Do not allow her to leave under any circumstance. Use force to keep her here if you must.”
A footman grasped Maria’s arm and as much as she tried to pull away, the man held tight.
Satisfied, Victor focused once again on his wife.
Charlotte had been shot below her shoulder and above her breast. Not her heart, thank goodness, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be as deadly.
“How long before the doctor arrives?” he demanded.
“He is not far,” the woman promised, though it didn’t answer his question.
Victor rested his forehead against Charlotte’s and willed her to live.
For an eternity, he pressed the towel against her wound and counted her breaths and watched the gentle lift and fall of her chest with each breath, afraid that it would stop.
He loved her. He needed her. He could not lose Charlotte, not now. Not ever.
“Move away,” a man said, and Victor glanced up to find a man pushing his way into the room.
“Dr. Hornsby?” Marcus asked in surprise.
The man nodded and went right to Charlotte. Victor moved and watched as he tore her dress away from the wound and inspected it. “The ball needs to be removed and then I can inspect the damage further,” he ordered. “Take her to the dining room table.”
“What of a bed?” a maid asked.
