“Is there one on this floor of the house?” he barked and received only stunned silence.
“I cannot risk moving her further but cannot treat her on this settee.”
Victor didn’t need any further order and lifted Charlotte and carried her to the dining room and laid her down gently.
“You can now leave,” Dr. Hornsby ordered.
“She is my wife,” Victor objected.
“Which means you will be in my way. Now go.” He turned to the housekeeper. “Please have your most responsible servants assist me.”
Someone pulled him from the dining room, and Victor realized that it was Marcus and soon he was back in the library. The butler and two footmen watched Maria, as did two maids. They also watched him and Marcus with suspicion.
Marcus crossed to the sideboard and grasped a decanter of brandy.
“I would not drink that if I were you.” Victor’s eyes bored into Maria’s.
Marcus frowned.
“See if he has something else. A bottle that has not been opened.”
Marcus didn’t question Victor further and pulled out a brandy bottle still sealed. Marcus poured two glasses and pressed one into Victor’s hand. It was then that he noted that he was shaking, and his hands were also stained with Charlotte’s blood.
Why had she stepped in front of him? Why had she been so foolish? Did her life mean so little to her?
Did she care more for him than herself?
She carried his child and that should mean more to her than anything, and not because it may be a blasted heir, but because it was their child. The one that they had created together.
Victor sank down into a chair. He hadn’t told her that he loved her until today. She had never said those words to him ever, but she had kept him from being shot, which spoke louder than any words ever spoken.
“How do you know the doctor?” Victor asked Marcus.
“He treated me after I had been injured fighting the French.”
“You were injured?” Victor asked. How had he not been told?
“It was not serious, or I would not be here.” Marcus glanced toward the dining room. The doors had been closed after they had exited. “Hornsby has far more experience with gunshot, rifle and saber wounds than any physician who has never left England. If anyone can pull her through this, it will be him.”
Victor was grateful that Charlotte’s doctor had experience, but Charlotte had been struck in the chest. Did anyone survive that?
“I understand that there has been a shooting.”
Victor turned to find Lord James Bryant, the Earl of Somerton standing at the entry to the library.
“Why are you here?” Victor asked.
“I am the magistrate and as I was alerted to the shooting, a possible attempted murder, I came to investigate.”
He sauntered into the library. “What happened?”
“My sister shot my wife, though it was me that she wished to kill.”
“I did not,” Maria defended and pointed to Victor. “He did. He was upset about the Will left by his wife’s father and shot her. Ask the servants. He had the gun, not me.”
Victor vaguely recalled her tossing the pistol toward him. Now he knew why.
“That is not true,” Marcus stated as he stepped forward.
