He sat her on a chair. Samantha went to the dowager and held her hand.
Lady Margaret observed her bloodstained clothes, arms, and face. “Are you hurt, Samantha?”
“No, my lady, his blood splattered all over me. I couldn’t help him soon enough.” She burst into tears and allowed her agony to rip through her. He cannot die. He cannot die. Not now. He doesn’t know how much I love and need him. He cannot die.
The surgeon said to Samantha, “On the contrary, my lady, your quick action may have stemmed the flow of blood. “I have to determine the nature of this wound. More water!” he barked. “He will be in severe pain. I regret I must ask that the rest of you clear the room. Make arrangements for a bed where he can be tended in quiet after we are through.”
Samantha jumped up. “Please let me stay with him.”
“Are you his wife?”
Chapter Forty-Eight
“No. Please, it’s important. Allow me to stay.” Samantha pleaded, tears trickled down her cheeks.
“I need as sterile a room as possible. I’ll be probing with instruments. There will be lots of blood. Do you have the stomach for this?”
“Yes,” she said, her hands went to her belly. “I have the fortitude of a warrior when necessary.”
“If you swoon, I won’t be able to attend you. First, wash your hands three times with soap and water,” he instructed.
Samantha went to one of the basins and scrubbed. She dried her hands on a clean towel.
“Is there any more hot water?” he asked.
A servant from the kitchen presented a hot kettle of water.
“Pour it in the other basin. Then bring more,” said the surgeon.
The servant complied.
“I will place the used instruments in the hot water basin in case they are needed again for any emergency. I don’t believe it is a fatal wound, but one never knows about infections. The doctor worked with quick medical efficiency. “We are fortunate the bullet in the shoulder exited through the duke. It did not pierce the lung. That is good news. Do you have any wine?”
Samantha thought it an odd request. She nodded.
“Please arrange to fetch a bottle. It will be used to cleanse the incision each time we change the bandage.”
She went to the corridor and summoned a servant to bring an open bottle.
“Watch what I do carefully if you are going to change his bandage.”
When the servant entered with the wine, he handed it to her. Immediately, she gave it to the surgeon, who then instructed Samantha on how to treat the injury. She held on and realized now if she lost him, she would never be the same woman. He was the one man who mattered and heaven forbid he should die, she didn’t want to live.
Samantha worked with the doctor, but in the other room she heard a Constable arrive, and her brother and Prince Nicholas gave him details. Winston explained the facts as much as possible.
Next, another Constable brought in a thug, also splattered with blood, who appeared to be the assassin. The uniformed bobby directed that the person was to be tied to a chair until he could get additional help, but he also shackled him. “He should be watched with great care. You can never trust such men.”
Lord Winston gave his majordomo a pistol and advised him to keep watch. “Shoot first, ask questions later. Should he move even an inch, shoot.” He glowered at the brawny man whose eyes made it clear he understood everything said.
Outside the door, in the foyer, Samantha listened for a brief moment as her brother explained Prince Sergei’s involvement in the opposition cartel to Nicholas, but then tuned them out as she concentrated her attention to care for Raven.
After the physician sutured the wound, and the shoulder was bandaged, the doctor requested the patient be taken to a quiet bedroom. Winston offered the large guest bedroom in the back of the house near the conservatory. It was accomplished by the servants in record time and with somber gentleness.
“He has to be observed for any change in condition and should not be unattended. I will stay a while, but will come back in two hours time. By then, we may know whether he has other medical issues.”
The words were said, and they carried great impact.
“My lady, should he awaken give him laudanum every two hours for the pain, but be meticulous about the dosage. He pointed to a level on the bottle. If he regains consciousness, I warn you, he may be disoriented. If he is, the duke will need strict attention. Send for me again if I am not already here.”
She accepted the vial from him and placed the medication at Raven’s bedside. “Forgive me, Sir, I did not ask your name.”
“Sir John Clemons, Royal College of Surgeons, at your service, my lady. Your assistance was appreciated.”
“Dr. Clemons, do you think he will live? Please be honest with me.” Her voice cracked.
“I believe we have done all we could under the circumstances. His fate is in God’s hands now. Have courage.”
She placed her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
Clemons removed an unusual looking instrument from his black bag.
“What does that do?” she asked.
“It is a new invention, my lady. This stethoscope is used to listen to his heartbeat and other sounds made by the body. He breathes well. His heartbeat is less labored, and I hear no gurgle, which is a good sign that the bullet did not pierce a vital organ.”
****
Samantha and the surgeon returned to the drawing room where Lady Margaret stood and said, “My dear doctor, thank you for all you have tried to do. Tell me what I can do to help my beloved nephew.”
He answered, “Pray, My lady. Pray. I have employed all my skills.”
Samantha became overwhelmed with a wave of apprehension. All her strength just left her and exited through her toes. Again, he was right, and she was wrong.
“Winston, can you see to your sister,” said the Prince. “I believe she is ready to collapse. With permission, I will also send for the duke’s family. The heir presumptive must be summoned as a matter of caution.”
Winston nodded. “Advise Nigel, the butler. He will follow your instructions.”
With an inability to speak, Samantha’s eyes implored her brother, who reached for her just as she fainted in his arms. Winston carried Samantha upstairs to her room and placed her on a lounge. One of the servants arrived with smelling salts, and after he had waved it under her nose, she came round.
“He will need you more than ever now, Samantha. Don’t give up. He is a strong man, but he will need your strength,” her brother said. “If you love him, tell him so. Cecily is on her way here to attend you and help change your clothes. Then you can sit with him downstairs. You are the one he will want to be with, no matter what the outcome. He loves you more than his life.”
“Oh, Brother, I was stupid. Look at all the time I’ve wasted on a foolish whim. We could have been away in the country, and the thug wouldn’t have found him.”
“That is not so, Sister. This was a planned assassination. They would have located the duke wherever he went. Besides, Raven is not one to hide from danger. He’s a powerful man. Now he needs a strong woman by his side. Be that woman for me, as well as for him. Damn the cartel. I just want him to live to marry you. You two deserve each other. Both of you have suffered too much.”
She swayed on her feet.
“Do you want me to wait for you?” he asked.
“I need to relieve myself of my food. This nausea overpowers me. If you stay for a moment, I will change out of these soiled clothes, and sit by his side. Brother, thank you. I love him so. I will have to let him know, but how?”
“Yes, I know you love him. I’ve always known. The pity is you had to be convinced, Samantha. You’re so stubborn. I know much more than you think. If Sir Percival were still alive, I would have killed him for what he did to you. I love you, Sister.” His glance went to her head. “Have the maid attend to your hair. You’re soaked with dried blood.”
She looked at him.
“Now,” he barked.
They embraced. Winston helped Samantha to the dressing screen where her maid assisted her into clean clothes, and discarded the tattered slip and dress. Cecily then came in with a water pitcher and cleansed her hair. She attempted to towel dry it, but Samantha was too impatient to wait long. “I cannot lose him this way, Brother. Help me.”
She wanted to believe Raven would live so she could tell him she carried their child. God forbid, if he died, he wouldn’t know his line carried on.
Winston held her elbow as they went down the steps and entered Raven’s sick room. He was still, but his breaths did not labor. She ran to him, threw herself at the end of his bed, and cried, “Raven, don’t leave me. I need you to fight for us.”
Winston patted her on the shoulder. “I will leave you with him now. There is much yet to be done. This incident has international complications.”
In the stillness of the room, Samantha clasped her hands together under her chin and prayed for Raven’s forgiveness of her spirited and willful ways. She had found her one true love and could not bear to lose him in this horrific way. She told him she loved him and could never love anyone else, over and over until her mouth parched.
It was then Samantha understood how he must have cared about Liana and why he had mourned her for so long. Then she snapped to attention. Could this be God’s plan to show her the error of her ways when it came to losing a loved one? If so, it was too powerful for her to absorb because it hurt so much. If there was a lesson she had to learn, she didn’t want it at the expense of his life.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Samantha came to terms with her foolishness. He was her strength, her everything, how could she sustain him? Raven must survive for her and their child. Her fears were not for herself, but for her innocent babe who could become illegitimate. She shivered at the prospect.
Raven’s moan drew her attention. His eyes opened and bore a strange look.
“Praise to heaven,” she said, and stood up.
“What happened?” he asked.
She held his hand. “A ruffian shot you.”
“Where am I?”
“In our downstairs room so the doctor could better attend you.”
“Who shot me?”
“A would-be-assassin.”
“My chest hurts.”
“I will give you laudanum to numb the pain.” She administered the dosage.
Within five minutes, Raven closed his eyes and lapsed into drugged slumber.
Samantha heard people arrive, but she would not leave his side. His head burned to her touch, and she wiped his forehead with a damp cloth.
Her brother approached. “Some of the duke’s family has arrived, Samantha. I have told them the surgeon did not recommend moving Raven at this particular time.”
“I am sure they are concerned.” Her voice was a faint whisper.
Brandon leaned over and observed her fatigue, her eyelids almost closing.
“I’ve advised Winston House would be made available to their family for as long as needed. Perhaps you can come in for a moment?”
“You must at least take some sustenance. Aunt Minerva has informed me of your current condition.”
His words were not comforting as she was sure he intended. She harbored such guilt. Her mouth was parched. Her head became immobile. She wanted to nod off and not have to face his admonition. She was so ashamed. How had she let this happen? She wasn’t so smart after all. Foolish, foolish, foolish woman.
She rose from the chair, avoided his eyes and cast hers downward. He lifted her chin upward with one hand, and then held her in his arms. “Look into my eyes, Samantha.” She gazed up to him. “Do you remember what you used to say when I would ask you that and you were very little?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered.
“You would tell me they were ba-loo. You couldn’t pronounce the word blue. Keep your head up. There’ll be time for recrimination later, but not from me.” He kissed the top of her head. “You do not want to lose Raven’s child, do you? Just try a few bites of crumpet and some milk.” He then held her from him. “You and your child shall never want while I’m alive. We are both resilient, but you have always been the strongest. Don’t give up now.”
His blue eyes were the color of a Jay. Ba-loo. And she didn’t remember. She just wanted to cry a lifetime of tears. She came to recognize how much he meant to her, too. Then she thought of the child who would be a bastard if Raven didn’t survive. “I have no concern for myself, Brandon, but I worry about the babe. The consequences of my one night of passion have been great. The reality is a sober experience. My head has been in the stars, and they can’t help me now.”
Winston held her by the elbow to steady her. As they entered the drawing room, everyone stared as if she was there to impart some horrific news. All conversation halted. The expression on their faces was unforgettable. Their concern was obvious. Forced to regain her composure, and with feigned assurance, she declared, “He is alive and spoke for a moment. I have administered a large dose of laudanum as the surgeon instructed so he may sleep and recoup his strength. He will slumber for hours.”
Lady Margaret introduced her family to Samantha, and of course, they asked when they could see him.
Winston advised that the surgeon would return within the hour, but had recommended rest, a watchful eye, and patience. “We understand your anxiety. His Grace had awakened but was in no condition to speak for long. In the meantime, allow my family to comfort you. Please consider this home as yours until we can get the duke up and about,” Winston said.
Samantha’s heart was heavy like a woman told to carry on in a storm with no end in sight.
Lady Minerva joined the guests. She came to Samantha who sat her near one of the duke’s sisters-in-law.
The lady introduced herself. “My name is Mirabella, and I am married to the duke’s brother, Cedric. He has been summoned and will be here soon. Please know we appreciate your care of him. We are all concerned for his welfare.”
The dark haired woman had a melodious lilt to her voice. She reached out and touched Samantha’s hand. “I wish we had met under better circumstances. Our townhouse is nearby. Can you tell us, Lady Samantha, any more than we have already heard?”
Samantha found herself recounting the dreadful story, the confusion, the need to stop his blood flow, the subsequent chaos, and as a final action, the prayers that would be needed. She was waxen with fear and exhaustion. Her stomach again felt queasy from the recollection. The funereal atmosphere upset her in a physical and emotional way. I must not cash in my accounts. I must control this action. She stared at the woman’s concerned face.
Samantha was uncomfortable with all the attention. Her headache grew worse. All she wanted was to sit with Raven. Through all of this concern, she noted that few partook of the buffet, but that the strong libations were put to good use.
At the sound of the familiar voices of both Winston and Prince Nicholas, she listened. They spoke about the capture of the assassin who was taken to Scotland Yard under heavy guard.
Prince Nicholas addressed the family first. “Lord Winston and I wish to caution you that the attempt on the duke’s life will be in the newspapers. We suggest that we let the authorities handle the investigation as well as any questions from the pressmen.”
Winston added, “We should plan a statement that deals with his current condition since we do not know anything else.”
“Since he was,” Prince Nicholas became aware of the past tense he used, he corrected himself, “Ahem, since the duke is a prominent Member of Parliament, there will be a high-level investigation. We do not want to complicate matters.”
“It would be best to let them handle the issue of why the attempt was made,” Winston advised.
Samantha paid strict attention to the conversations and at one point reached for the hankie nestled in her waist belt.
They agreed it was a
wise decision.
The majordomo announced the doctor had arrived and Samantha rushed out to him. “Sir Clemons, the duke’s family is in the drawing room. Would you be so kind as to address them? They are most concerned and would like to know about his condition from your learned self.”
He asked that he be permitted to see his patient first and would then address the families. Samantha excused herself and followed Sir Clemons. He checked Raven’s vital signs; the doctor’s face remained stoic. “Come with me, Lady Samantha, I will be back to check him further in a moment.”
She and Sir Clemons returned to the drawing room, and he said in solemnity, “I suggest that everyone return to their homes and come back tomorrow. It is difficult to give assurances, but he slumbers well. His heartbeat is regular now so there is a good chance he might recover. The danger we now face is the risk of serious infection. His body needs time to mend; peace, rest, and quiet are critical.”
They all nodded and agreed to return in the morning. His family departed with obvious concern buzzing with comments and worry.
Samantha returned to the sick room and studied Raven’s face in the light. She etched in her mind all his features. How much she loved that chiseled nose, his square jaw and those thick brows. She talked to him until she couldn’t speak anymore. Even if he couldn’t hear her, he might like the sound of her voice. She whispered, “Yes, you do have an arrogant but handsome chin. I’m fond of your lips, too. They are taciturn, but, oh, how I want to kiss them now. I know you like to think you project aloofness and a cold-as-ice exterior, but you never did that with me. I found a way to get under your skin so you’d remember me. From the first moment we met in my carriage, you were concerned for safety, but you showed no fear.” She traced his lips with her finger. “Oh, that stolen kiss was memorable. I was heady at the near scent of your cologne, too. Your kiss lingered, and I was swept off my feet.” She giggled. “Of course, I was sitting, but you know what I mean.” All her haughtiness had been of no avail.
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