Andrew and Richard nodded. “We are,” they spoke in unison.
Looking at each of them in turn, Spencer then said, “Before we proceed, it is my duty to inquire if either one of you would like to prevent the events that will take place shortly by offering an apology instead.”
“No,” Andrew clipped, to which Richard said, “I fear I cannot do so.”
Mary’s heart crumpled. She’d known they wouldn’t agree to such a thing—that their pride would not allow it—but she had still hoped.
“Very well then,” Spencer stated. “Let us begin.”
Removing herself to the side with her aunt and Lady Duncaster, Mary watched as Andrew and Richard took up their positions.
“Have courage,” Lady Duncaster whispered at Mary’s side before she started counting.
Mary felt her heartbeat quicken as the men strode stiffly in opposite directions, the faint glow from the rising sun illuminating the sky as birds began to chirp from the treetops—an abundance of life so foreign from the bleak atmosphere on the field.
At the count of twenty, the men halted. “Face your opponent,” Lady Duncaster called out.
Each began to turn, but before they’d made a full rotation, a shot cracked like thunder, rustling the treetops and scattering the birds. Mary blinked, not entirely certain of what had just happened, the confusion distracting her from the slight ache in her side.
“That foolish boy,” Lady Foxworth muttered. “He cannot even conduct a duel according to protocol.”
That was when Mary noticed the confused look on Andrew’s face and the odd angle of his pistol. In his nervousness, he must have fired too early. Elation shot up inside her. She looked to Richard who seemed just as surprised as everyone else. As if in a daze, he lowered his pistol to his side.
Unable to resist, Mary started in his direction. He’d won thanks to Andrew’s blunder, with neither man getting hurt. It was the best possible outcome! But as she hurried toward him, a fierce fire ignited inside her, slowing her pace. Blinking, she tried to understand, her hand pressing against the pain and feeling the wetness there as Richard turned toward her. The smile he gave her immediately dropped from his face, confirming that something wasn’t quite as it should be.
“Mary.” Discarding his pistol he ran toward her.
Stumbling, she started to fall, her legs refusing to carry her weight.
“Mary!”
The ground tilted, plunging her into darkness.
Richard’s heart erupted with fear. “No!” Reaching Mary, he gathered her up in his arms, barely breaking his stride as he did so.
“What happened?” Lady Foxworth asked as he hurried past her.
“She has been shot.” The words fell heavily around them. Hell, just getting them past the thick knot in his throat was an ordeal. “We have to get her back to the house.” He heard Lady Foxworth sob as she conveyed the news to Lady Duncaster. Carthright on the other hand... Richard tightened his hold on Mary. He would deal with her brother later, as soon as he was certain that her life was not in danger. But if she died... He dared not think of such an outcome even as dark rage clawed at his chest.
Vaguely, he was aware of footsteps following him at a brisk pace. If someone spoke to him however, he was oblivious of the fact. All he knew was that he needed to get Mary back to her bedchamber so he could issue instructions for a physician to be summoned. A hand caught him by the arm and he instinctively spun on his heel. “What?”
The angry question was met by a very calm looking Lady Duncaster. “Doctor Florian is a guest here, Mr.Heartly. I will ask him to meet us in Lady Mary’s bedchamber.”
With a curt nod, he strode away, arriving in the aforementioned room only moments later where he was greeted by Mary’s maid, whose face twisted at the sight of her mistress.
“We need to undress her,” he said, focusing on whatever they could do to help improve the situation.
“You cannot possibly—”
“Get out of my way,” he bit out.
Amy didn’t argue any further. Instead, she stepped aside, closed the door and followed him to the bed where he carefully set Mary down.
“Oh no,” Amy murmured as the wound came into view, visible as a large patch of blood against the left side of Mary’s gown.
Richard ignored her. Aware of how efficient Lady Duncaster could be, he did not doubt that the doctor would arrive shortly. They should prepare Mary for when he did, which meant that they would have to get her out of her clothes so the doctor could access the wound properly. To this end, Richard reached down and began undoing the fastenings on Mary’s gown.
“What are you doing?” Amy asked with a hint of horror to her voice.
