Page 33 of How to Ruin a Rake

“It’s only bird shot,” the old man said. “I just wanted to scare them a little.”

Max got to his feet. “Scare us? When all this lady wished to do was restore your dog to you? A dog that was trapped in the bramble hedge for God knows how long before she spotted it and insisted we stop to help.” He walked over to the man and took the weapon out of his hand. “Please put that away before you do any more harm.”

“Sir,” the woman said from behind him. “Your lady.”

Max turned around and realized that Allegra was still on the ground, and the dog was licking her face.

The woman knelt beside her with a concerned expression. “There’s blood on her neck, and she’s not stirring.”

The desire to snap the old man’s neck consumed Max, but he took a deep steadying breath. “Perhaps your bird shot did more damage than you anticipated, sir.” He strode over to Allegra, picked her up in his arms, and turned to the woman. “Is there somewhere I might safely place my sister while I call for a physician?”

“Yes, of course, sir. Bring her into the house,” the woman said. “I’m Mrs. Bridges, by the way.”

“I’m Mr. Foster, and this is my sister, Miss Allegra Foster.” Max followed Mrs. Bridges into the stone farmhouse and up the stairs into a decently sized bedroom under the eaves.

He laid her gently on top of the bed and stared down at her pale face, a whole host of emotions battling for dominance within him. “Is there someone you can send for a doctor or can you direct me to one?”

“There’s no one but me, our maid Jane, and old Toby, my father-in-law, here today. Everyone else has gone off to market.” Mrs. Bridges wrung her hands. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all this, sir. I don’t know what came over him. He’s never been the same since he came back from the wars.”

“I’ll go and fetch the physician, Mrs. Bridges,” Max said as she wiped her eyes.

“Thank you, sir. And I’ll take good care of your sister while you’re gone.”

Max took the gig and, following the brief directions Mrs. Bridges had given him, drove to a small hamlet about half a mile up the road and stopped at the church and vicarage. The local physician, Mr. Tarleton, was the vicar’s younger brother, and Max was grateful to find him at home. He agreed to come back to the Bridges’ farm, and Max was somewhat dismayed to discover Mr. Tarleton was the chatty type. Max endured his conversation on the short drive only because he so desperately needed the man to help Allegra.

They were greeted at the door by Mrs. Bridges, and she took Mr. Tarleton up the stairs. Max was left in the large kitchen with the grandfather, who eyed him somewhat apologetically.

“I didn’t mean to shoot your sister, sir. You won’t have me hanged, will you?”

“I suppose that depends on whether she survives,” Max said.

The old man nodded. “Fair enough. Would you like some ale while you wait? It’s fresh brewed.”

Allegra regained consciousness to find herself in her nightgown, tucked up in bed with a strange man bending over her. He smiled as she studied him.

“Miss Foster, I’m so glad that you are awake. You had us all a bit worried there.” He smiled. “I’m Mr. Tarleton, the local physician.”

“What happened?” Allegra asked. “I remember coming into the yard with the dog, and then there was an explosion of some kind, and I fell to the ground.”

“There was an incident with a blunderbuss filled with bird shot going off in your vicinity,” Mr. Tarleton said with commendable diplomacy.

“You mean I was shot?”

“Not on purpose.” A woman stepped into view, her expression anxious. “Please don’t think that. My father-in-law is an old man, and his wits are somewhat befuddled.”

“From what I understand from Mrs. Bridges,” Mr. Tarleton said, “Mr. Coggins thought you and your brother were intruders and meant to threaten you with the blunderbuss, but he inadvertently set it off. He’s a decent sort, and I doubt he meant to harm you.”

Allegra raised her hand to her shoulder, which was stinging quite badly.

“You were hit on the neck and the shoulder, Miss Foster. The rest of you was protected by your cloak.”

“Thank goodness,” Allegra murmured.

“The wounds are mainly superficial,” Mr. Tarleton continued. “I’ve cleaned them out, and I’ve left some salve with Mrs. Bridges to reapply when needed.” He paused. “I would suggest you stay in bed for the next day or two and make sure you are fully healed before resuming your journey.”

“I do have something of a headache,” Allegra confessed.

“I suspect you hit your head when you fell,” Mr. Tarleton said. “I’ll leave you something for that, as well.”