“I heard rifle shots just before he fell.”
She breathed deeply, her chest burning with anger. “I, sir, don’t have a rifle. I had just left my room when I heard of the accident.”
“Then if it wasn’t you, maybe somebody is after him to get to you.”
“Mr. Kennedy.” She tilted her head to study him. “Why would anybody want to hurt my husband?”
“I don’t know, unless—” He paused and looked around once again. “Unless it is because you backstabbed them in one of your deceitful bargains. I know from personal experience how well you make plans you don’t intend to keep. Perhaps there are other men you have upset lately?”
“That is ludicrous.” She folded her arms and blinked away frustrated tears. “What I think, Mr. Kennedy, is that your pride has been injured due to my rejection, and you are creating tales to upset me. Either that”—she lowered her voice slightly—“or you are the one who fired shots at my husband and are trying to point the finger at me.” She lifted her chin a notch higher. “In any case, I believe I will have Colonel Burwell look into this incident, since I cannot believe a word that comes from your mouth.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“You are not me, Mr. Kennedy,” she snapped.
Anger and fear pushed her forward in haste, and she practically ran to her horse.
Why had Kat taken up with a man like Kennedy? Camilla’s sister must have been insane for certain. Perhaps the good Lord took Kat from this world before she could cause any more harm to those around her.
When Camilla arrived at the Burwells’ manor, she flew up two flights of stairs to her room and stopped abruptly. The colonel paced outside her bedchamber door, his brow creased. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Colonel? What is wrong?”
He tried to smile, but there was a slight quiver on his lips. “Mrs. Worthington, the physician doesn’t want anybody in the room until he’s finished examining your husband.”
She twined her fingers together in worry. “Has my husband regained consciousness?”
“Not yet.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “But all will be made right, soon. You must be patient.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not certain exactly what happened out there, but I shall look into the matter.”
She struggled not to cry. “I think you should talk to Mr. Kennedy. He heard rifle shots just seconds before my husband fell from the horse.”
Colonel Burwell scowled. “Are you jesting?”
“I wouldn’t jest about a matter so serious. Mr. Kennedy implied someone might have shot at my husband.”
“Then I shall certainly look into it.”
“Thank you.”
The bedroom door opened, and Camilla rushed forward, meeting the physician just inside the room. “How is he?”
“He is resting. A horse stomped on his right shin, and amazing as it sounds, there was only a small break. I placed a brace on his leg to help him heal faster. His head wound is not serious, although he did lose a lot of blood. However, I was surprised to see a bullet had grazed his shoulder.” He frowned and shook his head. “I imagine plenty of bed rest and proper nourishment will cure that.” He turned to the colonel. “I suggestMr. Worthington not be moved for at least a week—just as a precaution, you understand.”
“Quite right.” The colonel nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Worthington can stay here for as long as necessary.”
“May I see him?” Camilla asked the physician.
“Yes, but allow him to rest.”
“Thank you.” She hurried past the two men and into their room, closing the door behind her.
Malcolm lay on the bed stripped of his clothes, his only covering the sheet and blanket. His right leg protruded from under the sheets, braced and precisely wrapped. Clean bandages now covered his head and shoulder. The color of his skin almost matched the white strips of cloth.
Her tense muscles demanded rest, and she plunked down into the sitting chair next to the bed. “Oh, Malcolm,” she sighed. “What has my sister gotten you into?”
