Lucien motioned her to make a start.
Feeling secure in the knowledge that no one would be able to surprise her from behind, she lifted the hem of her gown and took to her heels. She had almost reached the shed, and was just congratulating herself on being half way to the wood, when to her horror she saw one of the ruffians coming round the shed’s corner.
He looked as startled as she was. And then he recovered himself and ran towards her with his arms outstretched. She swerved to avoid him and without stopping to look back, she ran on towards the trees. If she could just keep ahead of the ruffian, Lucien would deal with him.
Crack!
She felt a shock as a bullet whistled past her. The ruffian was firing at her. Then she heard another crack! and felt a sharp pain in her shoulder.
‘Cur!’ Lucien’s voice was a snarl behind her.
There was the sound of a scuffle.
It began to grow fainter.
Oh, no, please, not now, she thought, as her head began to swim.
She clutched her shoulder, and looking down saw the hot red blood running through her fingers.
She fought to remain conscious, but it was no use. She felt herself beginning to sway.
And then a voice, strong and supportive, said, ‘It’s all right. I’ve got you.’
She was swept from her feet as Lucien scooped her up in his arms, his large body shielding her from further harm. He crossed the last yards of open ground and did not stop until they were hidden by the trees.
‘I’m all right,’ she said, as she trees closed around them.
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ His voice was full of concern.
He laid her gently down, setting her with her back against a tree. The pretty puffed sleeve of her ball gown was covered in blood.
‘I’m going to have to examine the wound,’ he said. His voice softened. ‘It will mean cutting away your sleeve.’
She nodded.
‘I will try not to hurt you, but I am afraid there will be some pain.’
‘I understand.’
He produced his knife. With small, deft movements he cut the sleeve away from her arm, softly pulling back the fabric so that he could see how badly she was hurt. She bit her lip. The movement of the fabric over her torn flesh was proving painful. Then she saw the look of relief on his face and felt an answering sense of relief flow through her. It was clearly not as bad as he had feared.
‘Thank God,’ he said, ‘it’s just a flesh wound.’
He untied his cravat and pulled it off, forming it into a pad. Then he held it to her shoulder to halt the flow of blood.
There was such a look of tenderness on his face as he did it that she felt her heart flutter. But then, perhaps that was because she was injured, she told herself. He might be just as concerned for any other young lady who had been badly hurt.
‘It needs something to hold it in place,’ he said.
His eyes fell on the frill of her petticoat, which could be seen beneath the hem of her gown.
She gave a sigh. The petticoat was the only piece of pretty underwear she possessed. But still, it must be sacrificed.
‘Go ahead,’ she said.
With deft fingers he ripped the delicate fabric, until he had a long strip in his hands. Then expertly he wound it round the pad, binding it to her shoulder.
‘You’ve done this before,’ she remarked.
He gave a wry smile. ‘Once or twice.’ He tied the strip in a bow, then said, ‘How do you feel?’
‘I feel well.’
His smile became sincere, and his eyes warmed. ‘You’re a very courageous woman,’ he said softly.
‘I don’t have much choice.’ For some reason, his words made her feel vulnerable, and so she turned the compliment aside.
‘Yes, you do. Young ladies always have a choice. They can have a fit of the vapours any time it suits them!’
He was teasing her, and she laughed.
He stood up.
‘I don’t want to leave you,’ he said, ‘but I have to. I am going to fetch the horses.’
She looked surprised.
‘There are two of them tied up behind the shed,’ he explained. ‘That’s what the ruffian was doing. He was making sure they were securely tethered. Evidently two of the ruffians rode to the cottage. Which is lucky for us, because it means we can ride. Here. Take this.’
He handed her a pistol.
‘I took it from one of the men. They should still be out cold, but just in case one of them recovers and finds you here, I want you to have this. I don’t expect you will have to use it, but if you must, then do it.’
Eleanor nodded. If either of the ruffians found her she would need to defend herself. Although it wasn’t likely that they would do so, she reflected, looking round at the trees. She was inside the woodland, and well hidden by the fir trees.
He disappeared. Leaving her to face the fact that her feelings for him, instead of becoming less, were becoming increasingly complicated. To the physical attraction she had felt from the moment she had first set eyes on him was added a sense of complete trust; for although they were mixed up in a dangerous enterprise, she felt safe with her life in his hands.
She loosened the bow on her makeshift bandage a little, and saw to her relief that the blood flow had lessened but it had still not stopped. Pulling it tight once more - a difficult manoeuvre with only one hand, but one she managed - she waited for Lucien to return. He did not leave her alone for long. Before five minutes had passed he had returned with the two horses.
She tried to stand up, but feeling a little dizzy she was forced to sit down again.
‘There’s no hurry,’ he told her. ‘I used the rope that had bound us to tie up the ruffians. I had to knot it in several places where we had cut it, but there was still enough to do a thorough job.’
‘I’m not sure I can ride,’ she said.
‘Then we’ll ride together. I’ll put you up in front of me and hold on to you.’ His eyes looked into hers. ‘I won’t let you fall.’
‘I know.’
Her words were simple, but provoked a tender glance. He seemed to be about to speak, but then the words died on his lips.
‘Fortunately, I have a friend who lives nearby. We won’t have to go more than four or five miles, and then you can rest.’
‘No.’ Eleanor shook her head. ‘Arabella will be worried about me. I want to go back to Bath at once.’
‘I’ll get you home as soon as it’s possible, but you can’t go far with that wound. You’re losing a lot of blood. You need to rest.’
‘I can’t be seen in this state,’ she protested.
‘Don’t worry, my friend is discreet. He won’t betray the fact that you were injured, or even that you visited his house. But he will give you somewhere safe to stay until you are well enough to travel onwards.’
‘It hardly troubles me anymore, and I am losing far less blood than I was,’ she said stubbornly. She did not want to worry her sister, nor did she want to expose her to scandal. Or herself, either.
She stood up, determined to show him that she was all right, but she swayed on her feet, and almost fainted.
He caught her, and lifted her on to the horse, mounting effortlessly behind her, before his strong arms slid round her waist.
‘Lean back against me,’ he said throatily.
‘Your coat —’ she protested.
‘It’s just a coat,’ he said softly. ‘Lean back, Eleanor.’
She gave a sigh and did as he said. It was a relief to be able to relax, and to let him take control. She had never been able to surrender herself to anyone before, but despite his recent coldness she felt she could surrender completely to Lucien. To her surprise, doing so made her feel stronger instead of weaker. It was as if she had relinquished something of great value, only to have it replaced with something of even greater worth.
He turned the horse and the animal set off at a gentle pace, picking its way through the narrow be
lt of woodland and at last emerging on the other side.
‘Do you know where we are?’ she asked.
He turned to look in every direction, taking care not to jolt her, then said, ‘Yes. If we head north we will soon hit the road.’
‘Is it safe to take the road?’ she asked.
‘It is now. We have skirted the point at which it joins with the drive of Drayforth’s estate.’
‘And if he goes to the cottage and discovers we have escaped?’
‘Then he might find us on the road it is true. But we would hear him coming, and we would be able to take cover in the trees on either side. It’s our best route. I don’t want to subject you to any more jolting than necessary, and the road is a much smoother surface to ride on than open countryside.’
The horse picked its way across country to the road. Lucien glanced both left and right, but there was nothing to be seen. Then he turned onto the road.
The going was easier, and Eleanor was grateful. Her shoulder was paining her and she was weak from loss of blood. But despite her pain, Eleanor enjoyed the beauty of the scene. The first stars could be seen in the sky. The tips of the trees sparkled where they caught the light.
At last they came to an imposing pair of stone gate posts to their right. Lucien turned the horse and they rode up the drive.
‘Are you sure he won’t mind you bringing me here?’ she asked.
‘We fought together on the Continent,’ said Lucien simply.
‘Ah.’ Eleanor understood. The dangers the two men had shared had established a bond of trust between them and they would always help each other if the need arose.
‘And the servants?’ she asked. Even if Lucien’s friend would say nothing, she was uncertain whether the servants could be trusted.
‘They have all been hand-picked for trustworthiness: Will has been engaged in more than one dangerous enterprise of his own.’
She was content.
They rode up to the front of the house. It was a Palladian villa of elegant proportions made out of golden stone.
When the horse had come to a halt, Lucien dismounted carefully, supporting Eleanor with one hand whilst he did so. Then he lifted her down. She wanted to walk into the house on her own two feet, but she felt very weak and knew she was not capable of it.
He picked her up and carried her up the steps.
At that moment the door was opened by an impassive butler, and a young man of about thirty years of age was revealed behind him.
‘Lucien!’ he exclaimed in astonishment. ‘I saw you from the window. What the devil —?’
His eyes went to Eleanor and then back again.
‘No time to talk, Will,’ said Lucien, striding into the house without more ado. ‘She needs help.’
‘Fetch Mrs Watkins at once,’ said Will to the butler, rising to the occasion. ‘And send one of the men for the doctor.’
The butler withdrew.
‘In here,’ said Will, leading the way into the drawing-room.
Lucien carried Eleanor into the room and lay her down on an elegant chaise longue.
‘What happened?’ asked Will, once Eleanor was comfortably settled.
‘It’s a long story,’ said Lucien.
‘Then it can wait,’ said Will, going over to the drinks’ table and pouring out a glass of brandy. ‘Here,’ he said, kneeling next to Eleanor. ‘Drink this.’
Eleanor pulled a face. She did not like strong spirits, but under the circumstances she knew she should drink the brandy.
She reached out her hand for the glass, but with her wounded shoulder the action made her wince.
Lucien took the tumbler from Will and held it gently to her lips.
She took a sip of the burning liquid and coughed. But then, as it started to revive her, she took another sip.
Watching the tender scene, Will looked at his friend in surprise. Then his face became thoughtful.
‘I’ll go and make sure the doctor’s been sent for,’ he said.
He went out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.
Eleanor finished the brandy and then lay back again.
‘How do you feel?’ he asked.
‘Better,’ she said.
He stroked her hair away from her face. In all the turmoil her carefully-arranged chignon had come loose, and her soft hair was falling about her shoulders.
‘Eleanor —’
Something in his tone of voice made her turn her eyes to his.
‘Yes?’ Her voice was breathless.
‘When I came to visit you —’
When he came to visit her? He had started to say something similar to her once before. What was it about his visit that preyed on his mind?
He pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
‘When I was on my way to see you, I saw —’
The door opened.
She felt Lucien’s frustration. But on seeing that it was the housekeeper who had entered the room he stood up and strode over to the magnificent Adam fireplace, putting a suitable distance between them.
‘The doctor has just arrived,’ said the housekeeper. ‘He will be in directly.’
The doctor came in a few minutes later. He was an elderly man with white hair and a kindly face. He was carrying a black bag.
As he crossed the room towards her, Eleanor was glad of the housekeeper’s presence. It gave a respectability to the scene that would otherwise have been sadly lacking.
‘Well, well,’ said the doctor with a twinkle, ‘what happened to you, miss? Got caught in the middle when the gentlemen were practising their shots, I hear?’
Eleanor realized that this was what Will must have told him in order to explain her injury.
‘Gentlemen?’ said the doctor.
Lucien hesitated and looked as though he wanted to stay, but Will took him by the arm and steered him towards the door. ‘Of course, doctor,’ Will said. ‘We’ll be in the library when you’ve finished.’
The two gentlemen left the room, whilst the housekeeper took a motherly seat by the side of the fireplace.
The doctor began his examination.
‘Well, well, now, this has been bandaged quite well,’ he said. ‘Dear me, what a nasty thing to happen. You young ladies need to take more care when the gentlemen are shooting their pistols. You should really keep away from them. They are apt to show off to one another, and not notice what is going on around them.’
Having finished his examination, he said, ‘Now, I am just going to clean it. It will hurt, I’m afraid, but you must be a brave girl. Never mind, it will soon be over.’
Eleanor gritted her teeth as the doctor cleaned her wound. Then he bandaged her shoulder once more.
‘There, now, we’re done.’ He turned to the housekeeper. ‘Would you ask the gentlemen to return? They will want to know how to look after the young lady until she has recovered.’
The housekeeper left the room, and returned a few moments later with Lucien and Will.
‘How are you feeling?’ asked Lucien, going over to Eleanor.
‘Better,’ she said.
‘You look it. Your colour’s starting to return.’
‘Good. As soon as I can stand I must go home.’
‘Eh? What’s that?’ asked the doctor with a frown. ‘Go home?’
‘The young lady is just visiting here, and is naturally anxious to be with her family at such a time,’ interposed Will.
The doctor relented. ‘I suppose so. But all the same, miss, you are in no condition to travel. How far do you have to go?’
‘Not far,’ she said. ‘No further than Bath.’
He shook his head. ‘You can’t go yet. You must rest, and regain your strength.’
‘But my sister will be worried about me,’ she protested.
‘She is expecting you back today, I gather?’ he asked. ‘Well, miss, if you can take a little supper and follow it with a glass of port, then as long as you rest you should be able to travel in an hour or two. B
ut only in a private carriage, mind, and only if you are wrapped up well. You young ladies wear nothing but cobwebs these days,’ he said paternally. He turned to Will. ‘Make sure you tell your coachman to drive slowly, and avoid any potholes in the road.’
‘I will.’
‘And you, miss, must promise me to rest as soon as you get home.’
Eleanor readily gave her promise.
‘Very well, then I see no harm in it.’
The housekeeper showed the doctor out.
‘Are you sure you need to go home so soon?’ asked Will solicitously. ‘I could get one of my footmen to take a message saying you have had an accident. You would be welcome to stay here until you have fully recovered. I have an aunt who lives nearby. She would be glad to come and stay for a few days, to protect your reputation.’
‘Thank you, but I have to go.’
Will glanced at Lucien.
Lucien nodded. ‘Unfortunately, it’s necessary.’
‘Then I’ll get my cook to send you a little broth,’ he said to Eleanor.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Lucien, as Will followed the housekeeper out of the room. ‘You will soon be with Arabella.’
But I will also be parted from you, she thought.
She tried to hide it from herself, but the thought of never seeing him again made her desolate.
She shivered.
‘Here.’ He took off his jacket and lay it over her.
The simple gesture, in its kindness and its gentleness, caused her even more pain. She was still unsure of him, not knowing what had caused his coldness at the wedding breakfast. Was it really that he had discovered he was raising expectations he had no intention of fulfilling? And was his subsequent behaviour nothing more than the behaviour of a man who is strongly attracted to a woman, but who cannot always restrain himself from touching her, even though he knows he should not do it? It could be so, but somehow she did not believe it. Although that could be self delusion, a small voice whispered. She might be imagining that there was more to it than that, because she wanted there to be more.
The Silverton Scandal Page 17
