With the help of his valet, Archie undressed and crawled thankfully into his bed.
“Shall I summon Miss Hill?” Jonas asked, closing the drapes to darken the room.
“No,” Archie replied thickly, shivering under the covers. “I’m just going to sleep awhile.”
* * *
With Archie gone to run Barrett off his lands, Cornelia took the opportunity to take a nap in her new suite, making up for lost sleep from the previous night. Waking a few hours later in the mid afternoon, hungry, she thought to amble down to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Bannister for a late luncheon. Smoothing her skirts, she left her chambers and started down the hall.
A tall shadow blocked her path.
Startled, Cornelia glanced up to find a man she had never seen before standing between herself and the stairs. He wore no expression on his rugged face, and wore a livery similar to the grooms in the stables. Three footmen stood behind him, smirking, while a tremor ran down her nerve endings. Here we go again, now they have brought in their meanest and I never had my lessons with Mr. North. And he’s gone with Archie.
Never permitting her thoughts to show on her face, Cornelia waited to see what they would do. She stood no chance of running down the stairs with the footmen guarding it, nor was there any way she could retreat, unless it was to her chambers. Yet, she knew the instant she turned to run, the big man would be on her.
“Nothing to say, Whitey?” the man asked softly, his tone as empty as his expression.
“What? Do you want me to beg for my life?” she inquired politely.
“That would do for starters.” He took a step toward her.
“I must have left my humility in my rooms.”
“You’re a nobody, freak, and yet you are given special treatment?” he asked, taking another step forward. “Who are you to live in the guest suite?”
“Who are you to question His Lordship’s orders?”
That brought a scowl to his otherwise blank mien. “Watch your mouth, Whitey.”
“I’d rather you turn around and walk away before you get hurt.”
The man chuckled, continuing his forward advancement. “It won’t be me to get hurt.”
Cornelia backed away, giving ground though it pained her to do so. She needed space to do what she planned to do before he charged, as he would do at any moment. The footmen behind did not walk forward when the big man did, and she found that encouraging, and dared to hope they’d stay out of this one. Without them in the coming fight, she might stand a chance – if she was clever.
She pulled the pistol from her pocket and aimed it at the big man’s chest. “Still want to play?” she asked, her tone cool.
He froze for a moment. “Now that’s not fair.”
“And four men against one woman is?”
His eyes narrowed. She knew he would still attack her, she saw it in his tense expression, and she knew she would have to give her secret away by shooting him. Yet, she could not kill him. She dared not, not if she wished to live in peace here. By wounding him, she might still gain their respect. By killing him, she’d gain nothing but their eternal enmity.
The big man charged as she expected him to do. Aiming for his big shoulder, Cornelia cocked the hammer back and fired. Her bullet missed in spite of his closeness, and struck the wall to his right. Tense, she waited until the very last instant, then spun to his left as his right hand swung around to strike her in the head. His fist missed her completely, yet she stuck her foot out and connected solidly with his ankle. His body overreaching, off balance as his body tried to follow his arm, he stumbled and crashed to the floor in a heap. Keeping an eye on the watching footmen in case they, too, attacked, Cornelia knew she could not let this man get up.
Leaping onto the man’s back, knees first, Cornelia slammed him into the floor as he started to rise. Lifting the pistol, she whacked it across the back of his head, stunning him, then, for good measure, struck him again.
He went limp under her, unconscious.
Panting, Cornelia rose from his back, trying to get her feet under her, hearing the footfalls on the slate, spinning to face them. She was a fraction too late. The foremost kicked her pistol from her hand even as she rolled to the side, avoiding a second kick aimed at her stomach. Fetching up near the wall, she gained her footing just as the nearest planned to pin her against it.
Faster than he, she dodged his weight as he crashed into the wall, then bolted for her chambers. Wild cursing informed her just how close they were as she seized the handle of her door, and heaved it open. A fraction of an instant later, a thud struck her in her left shoulder. Fire spread from there as she ducked around the door and slammed it in their faces, all her weight against it.
The bolt slid smoothly home a fraction before their bodies hit the solid wood.
Gasping for breath, Cornelia stumbled away from the door as the footmen’s fists pounded on it, half wondering why her feet wouldn’t work properly. Vaguely curious about the fire in her back, she tried to lift her left arm. It refused her order and hung limp at her side. Frowning slightly, she glanced at her sleeve.
Dark red blood dripped from her sleeve onto the rug at her feet. “Oh, dear,” she murmured. “That will leave a mess.”
Her eyes swam, her vision blurry as she staggered across her sitting room toward her bedroom, thinking she needed to lie down for a while. “Just a short nap,” she muttered. “That’s all I need.”
Darkness edged across her mind as the chamber around her spun sickeningly. Suspecting she was about to pass out, she tried once more to reach her bed so she might rest upon it, and rise later, refreshed. She didn’t make it. Collapsing on the thick rug beside it, Cornelia struggled to get up.
“This is damn inconvenient,” Cornelia commented just as the darkness claimed her.
Chapter 15
The sound of the gunshot woke Archie instantly.
He knew he had not been asleep long, perhaps only a few minutes, and threw the cover from him. Clad in nothing but his small clothes, he ran into the sitting room as Jonas hurried toward him. “My Lord? I heard a shot.”
Seizing his trousers, Archie yanked them on, then grabbed his shirt, and pulled it over his shoulders, shoving his arms in even as he reached for his pistol. Running out into the hallway, he found Latham and Noah Sanders rushing toward him from the stairs. “Where’d it come from?” he yelled.
“Up a floor,” Latham growled, urging him toward the staircase, the butler behind them.
Dashing up another flight, fearing that Barrett Hill’s spies had invaded his big house and even now dragged Cornelia out through a window, Archie forgot his own sore body in his haste and fear. He and Latham had not even reached the top of the stairs when liveried footmen bolted down toward him from the upper level.
“Stop,” he bellowed. “What is going on?”
Apparently, in their own panic to descend as fast as possible, they failed to recognize him until he spoke. All three skidded to a panicked halt, sliding and nearly falling on the stairs. The sight of him only increased their fears, and one by one they froze, their mouths open in shock. One glance into their faces and Archie knew it was not Hill’s people attacking Cornelia.
It was his own.
“You damn bastards,” he snarled. “What did you do to her?”
“M-My Lord,” the footman he recognized as Timothy stammered.
Voices and running footsteps behind him announced the arrival of more footmen and servants, rushing toward the sound of the gunshot. Enraged, Archie climbed the steps toward the stricken footmen, his fists clenched as he fought to control himself. “What did you do?”
Just then, the coachman’s assistant, holding his hand to the back of his head, his face a mask of pain, appeared up at the top of the stairs behind them. Upon seeing him, Shelton Hamden also froze, the blood draining from his face. Archie could not stop himself from raising the pistol in his hand and pointing it at the man.
Latham’s hand on his lowered
the gun. “No, My Lord, don’t,” he said, his tone soft. “This is not the way.”
Before Archie could spin on him, jerking away in order to lift the dragon again to shoot Hamden, Latham left his side and charged up the stairs, shouting. “You footmen get up here now and take these men into custody.”
Cuffing and shoving, Latham used brute force and his considerable authority to force the four men at the top of the stairs back into the hallway above. Archie turned, seeing the servants still on the stairs hesitate, uncertain. “You heard him,” he roared. “Seize them now. Take them into a room and bind their hands. Anyone who refuses, or assists them in any way, will hang alongside them.”
Footmen surged in a tight group up and past him, grabbing hold of Hamden and the others, forcing them into one of the chambers, seizing cords from curtains, throwing them to the floor and tying their hands behind their backs. Archie caught quick glimpses as he charged past the room toward Cornelia’s suite. “Cornelia,” he yelled.
He pushed the handle down, but the door refused to open. Hammering his fist on it, he shouted again, “Cornelia. Open the door.”
“My Lord, I found this.”
At his side, Latham held a small pistol in his hand. “The barrel is still warm from the shot,” he said.
“Where did they get that?” Archie demanded.
“It’s not theirs,” Mrs. Cates said from behind them. “It’s mine.”
Archie and Latham wheeled. “What?” Archie exploded.
“I gave it to Cornelia for her protection,” Mrs. Cates stated, unflinching in the face of his towering rage. “She must have tried to protect herself with it.”
Turning back to the door, Archie pounded on it again. “Cornelia! Open up.”
Nothing happened. Pressing his ear to the wood, he heard nothing. “She has to be in there,” he snapped. “It’s bolted from the inside.”
“We’ll have to break the bolt,” Latham told him. “She might be hurt, unconscious.”
“Yes.” Glancing at the small crowd of watching servants, Archie led Latham back a few steps. “We rush the door and hit it with our shoulders.”
“Right.”
As one, Archie and Latham charged forward three steps, and hit the door with a solid crash. It burst open, striking the wall on the far side and rebounding. Unable to halt his forward momentum, Archie stumbled and fell to the floor, Latham tangled in his legs. Trying to scramble to his feet, Archie saw Cornelia crumpled beside the big bed.
“Oh, no.”
Gasping, in panic, fearing she was dead, Archie half ran, half crabbed his way across the sitting room floor toward her. She lay on her right side, the hilt of a knife sticking from her upper left shoulder. A long shuddering moan escaped his lips as he knelt beside her. “Cornelia.” He felt sick, he thought he would either vomit or start weeping, but all he could do was stare at her ashen face, blood seeping onto the rug beneath her.
Latham’s strong hands moved him aside. “We’ll take care of her, My Lord.”
Helpless, forced back by Latham’s strong hands, Archie only watched as Latham and Mrs. Cates, along with two footmen in livery, lifted Cornelia’s body to the bed. I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead. Rising, needing to do something, Archie made his way to the other side as Latham tore her dress to expose her wound.
“My Lord,” Mrs. Cates said, her tone harsh. “You do not need to be here. Please order someone to fetch warm water, bandages, needles, and silk for suturing.”
“Then – she’s alive?”
“Of course. But we need to care for her and you must give her some privacy.”
Bowing his head, Archie fumbled his way out the door, gesturing for the footmen to leave ahead of him. “You heard Mrs. Cates,” he said, his voice dull. “Water, bandages, silk, and needles. Go.”
The footmen fled. Seeing the nearly silent crowd of servants still gawking in the hallway, he waved his arm at them angrily. “Back to work. Now.”
Turning, they shoved their way back down the stairs like a flock of frightened sheep running from a wolf, leaving only the butler, Noah Sanders, to stand and face him. “What can I do, My Lord?” he asked.
Rather than answer immediately, Archie strode to the open doorway where his prisoners lay on the floor, not just tied with their hands behind their backs, their ankles bound together, but also had thick gags in their mouths. Four sets of panicked eyes watched him, sweat sliding down from their faces to pool on the floor.
“Watch them for now,” Archie told Noah. “I’ll not have them escape justice.”
“What will you do with them?”
“If Cornelia dies,” he said, his voice flat. “They will hang for murder.”
All four wriggled on the rungs, trying to plead through the gags in their mouths, but Archie turned his back on them. “If she lives, they may go to jail for assault.”
He gazed Noah in the eyes. “This house has a cellar. I want you to find men that you trust, and only men that you can trust, to take them down there. You will post a guard, Noah, someone you know who will not set them free out of a misguided loyalty to their own. Do you understand?”
Noah bowed. “I do, My Lord.”
“See to it.”
Noah turned to walk down the stairs, leaving Archie the only one to guard the four who just tried to kill Cornelia. He knew he should question them, get the entire story from them before judging, but right then he could not trust himself to not shoot them with the pistol that he still held in his hand. I’ll get the story from them after I cool my rage. That won’t happen soon.
Seeing the footmen return with the necessary items for treating Cornelia’s wound, he gestured for them to precede him into the guest suite, where he watched them place the things on the table near Mrs. Cates. Both she and Latham were still bent over Cornelia, hiding her from him, as he gestured for the footmen to get out.
Not closing the door, Archie paced the hallway, both to watch what was happening with Cornelia and to guard the prisoners until Noah returned. His mind blank, his heart empty, Archie walked back and forth, toying with the dragon in his hand. I brought her here to protect her, keep her safe, and my own servants tried to kill her.
Time passed with agonizing slowness. Noah returned with a dozen footmen, some in livery and some not, and went into the chamber to drag the prisoners from the room. Archie barely watched as the servants took their comrades down the stairs. Peering into the guest suite, he saw nothing had changed, even as the afternoon sunlight waned into dusk.
At last, Latham came out, gazing at Archie with sympathy in his hazel eyes. Archie’s heart thudded in his chest, thinking his steward was about to tell him that Cornelia could not be saved, that she lost too much blood and had died as he paced out here in the hall.
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” Latham said to him. “But she’s young and strong. She should be fine.”
Unable to speak, Archie nodded. He turned away, his breath caught in his chest, and that was the moment he realized how badly he feared that Cornelia would die, and that if she did, he could never face the bleakness his life would become without her. She will live. She will recover.
“If you would like,” Latham went on behind him. “I will ask those men what happened, what their story is. When Miss Hill wakes up, we can compare what she says to what they say.”
Archie swallowed hard, not turning toward Latham. He couldn’t trust what his expression might show. “Yes. Please do.”
“My Lord.”
Latham walked past him and on down the stairs, leaving Archie alone to battle his out of control emotions.
* * *
“They only wanted to frighten her.”
Sitting on the floor of the hallway outside Cornelia’s chambers, his head and arms resting on his upraised knees, Archie finally looked up. “What?”
Latham squatted on his heels in front of him. “Perhaps you should return to your rooms and rest.”
“No.”
Rubbing h
is face with his hands, Archie peered at Latham over his fingers. “Is that what they said?”
“Interviewed them separately,” Latham went on. “So none knew what any of the others were saying. All their stories matched. They wanted Hamden to merely frighten her into leaving the house. But when she pulled the pistol and tried to shoot him, then knocked him out, they got scared. Really scared.”
“Enough to stab her in the back as she’s running away?”
Latham nodded. “You guessed that?”
“It certainly wasn’t difficult to deduce,” Archie replied on a sigh. “No blood in the corridor, her pistol empty and out of her hand, Cornelia struck in the back, her chamber door bolted from the inside. I expect the footmen went after her once Hamden went down?”
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