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Then, her composure shattered.
A choked sob broke free, raw and unrestrained.
Dash hurried to her side and whined.
That brave dog saved lives today.
Turning away, Roxina pressed her hands over her face before fleeing into the house, ever faithful Dash darting behind her.
Roxina’s reaction stalled the breath in Shelby’s lungs.
Yes, she had survived this horrific ordeal, but he would vow, something had awoken and unfurled within her—something far more compelling than dislike or fear.
And Shelby intended to find out exactly what that was. He stepped forward to follow her but stopped short when Matilda gasped, “Georgine?”
As one, the other women and Shelby glanced toward Georgine, white as a chalk and swaying as she clutched her shoulder, scarlet trickling from between her fingers, staining the pink silk of her gown.
“Oh, my God.” Aubriella gasped, throwing an arm around Georgine’s waist. “You’ve been shot, Georgie.”
“I don’t feel any pain.” Confused, Georgine shook her head. Forehead puckered, she glanced downward. “So why am I bleeding?”
“She’s in shock,” Claire said, fishing a handkerchief from her reticule and pressing it on the oozing wound.
“Someone go for the physician,” Robyn ordered as he rushed forward.
When everyone remained statue-still in shock, he snapped, “Now!”
“Aye.” Looking as if he might be ill, the stable boy gave a wobbly nod before racing off.
“Someone should send word to her sister,” Claire suggested.
“Regina is indisposed,” Georgine managed, her voice a frail thread. “She sprained her ankle yesterday and cannot bear weight for at least a week.”
“She should be notified, nonetheless. Assure her we shall take every care with Miss Thackerly.” Robyn scooped Georgine into his arms, searing each servant with a severe look. “Look lively now. Into the house. We need rags and boiled water. And whatever else the doctor requires.”
“Yes, sir.” They scurried to do his bidding.
“Robyn Fitzlloyd! Put me down this instant,” Georgine demanded rather weakly. “’Tis most unseemly. What will people say?”
“Madam, if I put you down, you will collapse.” He began marching toward the house before she answered. “Besides, I’d sooner care for a flea’s hiccup than loose-lipped chinwags’ tattle.”
“Bossy brute,” Georgine retorted before her eyelids fluttered closed, and she sagged against his chest.
Shelby caught Robyn’s eye.
More than casual concern glimmered in his cousin’s irises.
“Matilda, which chamber?” Robyn asked, glancing over his shoulder as he continued toward the house at a brisk pace.
Matilda flew to his side, worry marring her forehead as she laid a comforting hand on Georgine’s uninjured arm. “The rose bedchamber, I think. It has the most natural light for the physician.”
Over two hours later, after the constable had come, acquired statements from everyone, and removed the two dead men, as well as their hostile accomplice, Shelby gave a weary sigh. He and Honeybrook were the last to trudge toward the house.
Robyn hadn’t appeared again after carrying Miss Thackerly into Fernleigh House.
That didn’t surprise Shelby.
He had long suspected Robyn harbored a tendre for her.
