He hesitated a moment while she held her breath. Eventually, he inclined his head. “Of course.” He extended his arm, gesturing toward the door and she happily hastened toward it, desperate once more to be free of his company.
How was it possible to love someone so deeply and yet dread their nearness? She didn’t quite know, but that was how it was now. Four weeks had changed everything. Her heart was no longer her own. It belonged to him. But with no assurance that he would ever feel for her what she felt for him, risking a lifetime in his company was not an option. How could it be when five minutes alone felt like endless torture?
She had no answer, but as she started down the front steps, she could hear him say, “We will revisit this issue when your brother returns. I am confident that he will agree with me.”
She feared he might be right. But the fact that Coventry was willing to threaten her with such inevitability only confirmed her worst fears. His proposal had nothing to do with how he felt about her. Had she been any other woman, he would have done precisely the same thing. Because that was what was proper and because protecting one’s reputation trumped everything else. Scandal had to be avoided at all cost. Such was the aristocratic dogma.
Reaching the pavement without acknowledging his comment, Amelia saw that Heather was already waiting for them inside the carriage. A couple of pedestrians were approaching from the left and another three from the right. One was a laborer who turned toward the house. She heard him greet Coventry.
“You must be new,” Coventry said. “I do not recognize you.”
An exchange of words followed. Amelia waited for the other pedestrians to pass, but when one of the approaching men came up alongside her, she was shocked to find his arm winding tight around her waist and pushing into her back while another man stepped close, hindering her movements.
“Ye’re to leave this buildin’ alone, do ye hear?” The gravelly warning raked over her. “This is so ye take us seriously.”
She felt something sharp prick her side, then the sting and the pain of it sliding in deep. A scream tore its way past her throat, mingling with the cruel laughter of those who had hurt her. They pushed her aside, causing her to stumble. A shout followed, then the rapid clattering of shoes hitting the ground at a run.
Clutching herself, she felt sticky wetness seep through between her fingers. A quick inhale filled her lungs with breath, and then a hand caught her elbow.
“My lady.” The coachman’s steady voice was followed by Heather’s more anxious tone.
“Coventry.” She needed him now, her eyes frantically searching for him as she swung back toward the house. Her legs grew more and more wobbly by the second.
A hunched-over figure caught her attention. There. He was clutching his head and attempting to rise. Relief filled her. He was all right. Not as bad off as she. Which was good. If one of them had to suffer, she wanted him spared.
Raising his gaze, he looked at her then. “Dear God!” She managed to see him stagger up onto his feet, eyes wide with dread and anguish. A strange feebleness covered her brain. The pain began to recede, and she felt herself melting away into blackness.
“We need to get her home this instant,” Thomas yelled, hurrying over to where his coachman was standing with Amelia in his arms while Heather looked on with a stricken expression. There was so much blood.Toomuch blood. Thomas felt his heart crumple into a painful lump of despair. “If I climb into the carriage, can you hand her up to me?” he asked.
“Of course, Your Grace.” The coachman adjusted his hold on Amelia. “You’ll need a doctor, Your Grace.”
“Florian’s the man. I’ll not consider anyone else.”
They proceeded as discussed while Thomas ignored the violent pain that ricocheted through his brain. He’d been caught completely off guard—struck by a heavy object that the so-called laborer had been carrying. Stars had spun before his eyes as he’d fallen to his knees, only vaguely aware of a scream ripping the air. He now knew it had been Amelia. The bloody bastards had stabbed her and, if they didn’t get help quickly enough... He didn’t dare think of what might happen then. All he could do was clutch her to him and pray while pressing his hand to her wound.
“Will she be all right?” Heather asked from the opposite side of the carriage. Her voice was weak with concern.
“She’d better be,” he told her grimly, “or I’ll hunt down the villains who did this and kill them myself.” He’d recognized one of them as the man who’d accompanied Bartholomew to his home.Mr. Smith.
Presently, he wanted to see him and his accomplices suffer for causing Amelia pain and for putting her life at risk, but he kept his creative ideas on torture to himself since such a topic would likely offend Heather’s sensibilities. Instead, he gritted his teeth while the carriage rocked back and forth in response to his coachman’s swift driving. Amelia groaned, her head rolling against his shoulder. Thomas pulled her closer, his arm locked tight around her while one hand did what it could to hold back the blood.
Abruptly, the carriage drew to a halt and Heather glanced out. “This isn’t Huntley House. In fact, I don’t know where this is.”
“What the devil?” The door flew open, and his coachman looked in. Thomas wasted no time in turning his fury on him. “Where in hell and tarnation are we? I told you to—”
“We’re at Doctor Florian’s house. I thought it more efficient to pick him up on the way or at least leave a message for him in case he’s out rather than—”
“Fine. See to it then and be quick about it.” The door closed, and Thomas sank back against the squabs. Blood roared in his ears, and his eyes burned with tears that refused to fall. For five years he’d avoided this kind of tormented anguish. It twisted his insides and tore at his soul.
When his sister lay dying, he’d felt a similar pain, so acutely he’d thought he might die right there along with her. And he felt it now in every fiber of his being—a chilling promise that his life would be over if Amelia ceased drawing breath.
The carriage door opened and a bag was tossed in. It was followed by Doctor Florian’s prominent figure. “Allow me to take a look,” he said, crouching on the floor in front of Amelia. The carriage took off with a jolt, but the movement did not disturb the doctor. It was as if he was well accustomed to traveling in such a fashion, for which Thomas was now immensely grateful. He drew his hand aside to reveal the wound. The doctor’s expression remained inscrutable. “When did this occur?” he asked. A practical question.
“Perhaps fifteen minutes ago?” Thomas wasn’t sure. He hadn’t stopped to check his pocket watch.
Florian nodded. “The tear in her gown suggests a thin blade, but I’ll have to get her out of her clothes to examine her properly. In any case, it does look like it’s in a spot that should pose no risk to any major organs. You’ve done well to keep pressure on the wound. Keep doing that, and she ought to recover soon enough.”
He gave no indication of what “soon enough” meant, though Thomas expected it to be at least a few days, given the gravity of the injury. Still, he was thankful for some reassurance since he’d been imagining the worst possible scenarios up until that point. Florian had eased his mind a little even though he still felt responsible for what had transpired. As with his sister, he ought to have been more vigilant. He ought to have seen this coming, and he ought to have stopped it. But just as it had been with Melanie, he’d been distracted and now Amelia had gotten hurt, as well.
