Chapter 10
Felicity wasglad that Charlie knew the way home. It was all she could do to stay aboard as he thundered over the fields. She alternated between abject terror, a prayer that there weren't any fences to jump, and a growing certainty that she shouldn't have left Flint.
He'd been shot. How could that happen?Why?It could be a poacher, certainly, but thatcrackhad not sounded like the fowling pieces she'd heard over the years.
But what else could it be?
And then she saw the fence rise before her and forgot everything but her own survival.
“Sweet, suffering...Charlie, no!” she begged, leaning down on his neck and clutching his mane with both hands.
Evidently Charlie didn't hear her. Just as he'd been trained to do in his years on the hunt, Charlie gathered himself, his powerful hindquarters bunching, and up he sprang. Felicity thought she might have screamed. She knew she closed her eyes.
She wasn't sure how, but she leaned back as he landed, jarring her so hard she thought she might have bitten her tongue. But she didn't fall off. It was silly, but that made her laugh and pat Charlie on his sweating neck. On he ran, with her hanging on for dear life until they both clattered into the stable yard.
It seemed she didn't need to call Billy. He was running toward her before she even crunched to a halt.
“What happened?” he demanded, grabbing Charlie's bridle as the horse skidded to a halt, almost unseating Felicity for the fourth or fifth time.
“Flint....” she gasped, sliding sideways until the stablemaster caught her and set her on her feet.
Her knees buckled, and she held on to his shoulders. “Somebody shot him. On the way...to...the Siren's...house.”
“The what?”
She shook her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heart thundering. “Mrs. Dent-Hardy. About halfway back...in a field. He told me to...get...you...”
Billy didn't ask more, just ran into the stable. Felicity leaned against a sweating Charlie, hoping the animal wouldn't move. She wasn't sure she was going to be able to stay on her feet. She heard shouting inside the barn, and then Billy was back on one of the hacks, another groom following.
She was looking for the mounting block, when Billy pointed at her.
“Stay here,” he commanded, pausing before her. “Can ya get Mrs. Windom to be ready for his lordship, then?”
She wanted to go with him, but knew even as she clutched Charlie's reins that she'd only be in the way. She nodded and watched as Billy and the groom swept past. Then, hand to suddenly unsettled stomach, she ran for the house.
“Mrs. Windom!”
* * *
They prepared for any eventuality. Felicity had seen the blood on Flint's white shirt. She couldn't tell where it had come from but, just in case, they had hot water, lint, a bed made up, a call out for a local physician. She paced the kitchen and drove the staff mad, all sure Lord Flint would be carried back on a plank. Instead he slammed open the kitchen door and stalked in.
Felicity stared.
“We need to talk,” he said without preamble and took her by the arm.
“I thought you was shot,” Mrs. Windom said from the corner.
He kept walking, never taking his eyes from Felicity. “I was. I'm fine. Come along, Miss Chambers.”
She felt suddenly cowed, as if she'd done something wrong. And out he dragged her through the green baize door and up two flights of stairs to the library.
“What happened?” she demanded, still feeling completely disoriented. She had expected him to come in unconscious, bleeding, dead. He looked as mad as a wet cat, but hardly grievously injured. “I saw blood.”
“Yes, yes.” Letting her go, he shut the door behind him. “He caught my shoulder. Third time it's been hit. Getting tiresome, actually. Sit down.”
She sat. “But you should get it cared for. We're all ready...”
“Not until I straighten this out.”
