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I wailed into my pillow, begging God and the world and anyone who would listen to me to please bring him back to me. I knew I did not deserve it, not after all the wretched things I had done. I was sure Acton’s ghost was watching me scornfully, looking forward to tearing his son away from my arms, to punish me for taking his life.

“Madam?” Mary’s timid voice sounded from the door, followed swiftly by scratching footsteps on the floorboards as Gertie dashed across the room and hopped eagerly at thefoot of my bed. “Madam, Mr Caine told me to bring you breakfast.”

I sat up, wiping my face with my hands. “When did he leave? What time is it?”

“It’s only barely 6 o’clock,” Mary said, crossing the room to open the curtains, revealing a sky barely lightening. “He left perhaps 20 minutes ago.”

“Oh, god.” I clutched my hand to my mouth. “Mary, I am so frightened.”

“It will be alright, madam.” Mary’s voice did not sound so sure, but she came to my side, lifting Gertie onto the bed, who nuzzled her snout into my hand. “Mr Caine had a clear head, and he is a good shot, from what the stable boys have told me.”

“Did they say where they had gone?”

Mary nodded. “Out to the woodlands by Hever Road, I suppose so as not to be disturbed.”

“That is miles from here.”

“It is not so far, madam.” Mary held my hand tightly. “You must not distress yourself, please. It will be alright. Come now, let us get you some breakfast.”

I could not choke down any food, I could barely keep down my tea, so high was my anxiety. My eyes flitted to the window constantly, searching for any sign of movement on the drive, my ears straining to hear carriage wheels, or the yell of the men downstairs in the case of a rushed arrival.

“Should we send for a doctor?” I asked Mary, looking out of the window at the snow-covered ground. “I do not know, should we have one waiting? Just in case?”

“I’m sure we won’t have need of one, but I shall tell Barlow to call for one just in case.” Mary paused at the door, wincing a little as she looked at me. “I will be right back, madam. Please do not fret.”

They were all expecting me to go to pieces, and indeed Ifelt that I might. I stroked Gertie’s soft fur, trying to calm myself as the pup slept in my lap, blissfully unaware of what was going on around her. The grandfather clock down in the hall let out seven loud, mournful chimes.

Was it all over by now? I had no idea how long a duel should take, but a single shot delivered at dawn with little ceremony? What reason was there for that to drag on? My god how I wished it had been closer, close enough for me to hear it and know what had happened.

The door opened, and I started up, making Gertie yelp.

“It is just me, madam,” Mary said softly, holding up a hand. “Barlow has sent for the doctor. He will be here shortly.”

At that moment shouts sounded from downstairs, and Mary and I stared at each other wide-eyed for a moment before I scooped Gertie up in my arms, shoving her at Mary before barreling down the corridors.

I could not hear what was being said, only that there were shouts, and a flurry of activity downstairs. As I darted down the stairs to the front hall, I heard carriage wheels crunching over the snow, the front door open, the men assembled and waiting.

“A doctor!” Grantham called from the carriage as he threw the door open. “And come and help me with your master!”

My heart was in my throat as I watched the men retrieve Azriel from the carriage. I ran forward as Grantham hauled an inert figure from inside, one limp arm slung over his shoulder. Azriel’s head fell against Grantham’s shoulder, and he was so pale I was sure he was dead. I screamed, but no sound came out. Blood covered Azriel’s neck, a vicious crimson smear.

“Inside! Get him inside!” One of the men called, and two of them helped Grantham haul Azriel’s frame into the house.

“This way!” Called Barlow, gesturing for them to follow.

“Is he alive?” I choked out, following them down the hall and in the direction of the kitchen. “Grantham, is he alive?”

“He’s breathing!” Grantham called, and I clutched my hands to my mouth as the men laid Azriel out on the kitchen table. “Has the doctor been called?”

“Already sent for, your grace,” Barlow said, tearing open Azriel’s shirt and baring the wound that seeped blood from his shoulder. “Heaven be merciful.”

Grantham sprawled into a wooden chair, wiping a blood soaked hand over his face. “My god. What a waste. Foolish waste.”

I went to Azriel’s side as Barlow pressed on the wound, trying to stop the flow of blood. “My darling?” I took his hand, which was achingly cold, and shook my head.

“The doctor is here!” Someone called from within the house, and a few seconds later a bespectacled man with grey and black hair marched into the room, throwing a heavy leather bag onto the table at Azriel’s feet.

“Out!” He ordered, his eyes landing on me. “Madam, I would beseech you to leave, this will not be pleasant.”