“What is necessary,” he explained as he pushed the sleeves over Mary’s shoulders and began pulling her gown down over her waist. She groaned slightly, which gave him hope.
“This is highly irregular, sir. Her modesty—”
“Damn her modesty,” he fairly exploded. Amy fell silent and Richard clenched his jaw. He hadn’t meant to be quite that harsh, but by God, he was at his wits-end. This should have been him, not her... anyone but her.
With quivering fingers he turned her sideways so he could unfasten her stays.
“Allow me,” Amy said, her tone holding a comforting degree of determination.
Stepping back, Richard watched her work as helplessness drove its way to his core.I cannot lose her. The unspoken words sent a shudder through him. An ache clutched at his heart, tightening his chest and making it difficult for him to breathe.
A knock sounded at the door and then it opened, giving way to Lady Duncaster and an older gentleman whom Richard had not yet met. He nodded in Richard’s direction but did not bother with introducing himself or with making any other attempt at conversation. Richard found that he appreciated that—the fact that treating Mary was of greater importance to him than protocol.
“Please pull the covers up over her legs and then raise her chemise so I can get a proper look,” he said to Amy.
The maid complied without arguing while Richard stood at Lady Duncaster’s side, unsure of how he could be of assistance. Seeing the blood smeared across Mary’s abdomen, he went to fetch the washbasin that stood on a small table to one side, grabbed a clean linen towel lying next to it and presented both items to the doctor.
“Thank you,” Florian remarked as he wet the towel and began to wipe away the blood, revealing a dark wound surrounded by bright pink flesh.
“Will she be all right?” Richard asked as the doctor began to feel his way around the wound. It looked as if he was searching for something. Groaning, Mary shifted against the touch. “Only time will tell.” Turning her onto her side, the doctor studied her back and then muttered a curse.
“What is it?” Amy asked in a small voice that seemed close to breaking.
Richard winced. He knew what the doctor’s concern was now. “There is no exit wound. The lead ball will have to be extracted if she is to survive this.”
“Fetch some brandy,” Lady Duncaster said, “and I will inform Lady Foxworth of the news.” Suffering from shock, Mary’s aunt had been escorted to her own bedchamber and offered a small amount of laudanum in order to calm her nerves.
“We will need a bit of strength soon,” Florian said without looking up, “so if you can find another gentleman willing to help, I suggest you bring him with you when you return.”
Relieved that he’d been given a task, Richard glanced at Mary’s pale face before quitting the room and going in search of the brandy and Spencer. He felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest. What had happened... his steps were heavy upon the floor, carrying him forward only because he knew that Mary now depended on him to help her through this.
Coming from the opposite end of the hallway, Richard saw the man who was to blame for it all—the man who might very well have killed the most good-natured person in the world. Balling his hands into two tight fists, Richard gritted his teeth as he moved toward him. “Carthright!” The name sounded like bone crushing against bone.
“How is she?” Carthright asked, coming to a halt at a reasonable distance. His eyes bore a haunted expression that made him look old and tired.
“Struggling for her life, thanks to you.”
Dropping his gaze, Carthright muttered, “I am sorry.”
The apology reminded Richard of stale bread. “Sorry?” He was incredulous. “You aresorry?”
“Of course!”
Marching forward, Richard raised his fist. “She might die because of you, you bloody idiot!” His knuckles made contact with Carthright’s jawbone, producing a loud cracking sound and pushing Carthright back. “Why?” His voice wavered. “You were supposed to shootme!”
Dropping to his knees, Carthright raised his arms to cover his face in anticipation of another hit, but Richard made no effort to attack. Instead, he hovered over him, waiting for an answer to his question.
“I was nervous,” Carthright stammered. “I know that you are a far better shot and expected you to fire first, so I... I pulled the trigger too early.”
Richard felt his anger rise. “The same reason why you abandoned me in France—because you are a coward.” When Carthright didn’t respond, Richard stepped past him. He didn’t have time for this right now. Not when Mary needed his help.
Returning to her bedchamber a few minutes later together with Spencer, Richard poured the brandy into a large glass so the doctor could dip his tools in it. “How is she?” he asked, his gaze falling on Mary’s twisted features.
“She continues to fall in and out of consciousness.” Arranging some linen towels so they would be easily accessible, the doctor took a seat. “Her pain is severe, as is the wound, but I will do my best to save her. I give you my word on that.” He looked at Richard and Spencer in turn. “If you are ready, I would like to proceed. The quicker we get that lead ball out of her, the better.”
A heavy hand touched Richard’s arm and he turned to meet his brother’s gaze, the concern there so raw that it threatened to shatter Richard’s tightly reined control. Turning away, Richard nodded. “Yes,” he told the doctor as he moved closer to the bed, aware that Mary’s pain was about to get a whole lot worse.
Holding her firmly by her shoulders while Spencer pushed down on her legs, the brothers struggled to keep her as still as possible while the doctor worked. Her anguished groans were difficult to listen to, even though Richard knew that it was for the best. But to watch the tools being driven into her, was almost more than he could bear.
