Page 111 of A Whisper at Midnight

Since he had Gillian, Tilda went to crouch next to Beryl. She appeared unconscious, but she was breathing. Hopefully, she would wake momentarily.

Tilda’s heart crashed wildly as she rose and reached for the jewelry box.

“Don’t!” Gillian cried.

Opening the box, Tilda easily found Beryl’s rubies. “Not a very good place to hide jewelry,” she said darkly as she looked back to Gillian.

It was then Tilda noticed Hadrian’s face. His gaze was locked on Gillian, but he didn’t seem to be seeing her.

Tilda knew he must be having a vision. “Hadrian?” She spoke his name loudly.

However, all that served to do was alert Gillian to the fact that he seemed lost. She wrenched her arm free and dashed into her bedchamber.

Putting his hand to his head, Hadrian blinked. “Where did she go?”

“Her bedchamber!” Tilda started toward the doorway, but Hadrian was closer.

Just before Tilda reached the bedchamber, she heard the report of a pistol. Hadrian recoiled, nearly hitting her as he fell back.

She caught him, but his weight pulled her down. Sinking to the floor, she cradled him.

And her heart stopped as she feared she’d lost him.

The bullet struck Hadrian in the bicep, tearing through his flesh in a burst of agony. His first thought was that it was far too soon for him to be facing his mortality again.

His second thought was that it was just his arm, and he would be fine, despite the searing pain.

His third—and best—thought was that Tilda had come to his rescue.

“Hadrian!” She moved her gloved hands over his chest.

“It’s my upper arm,” he managed. “I’m fine. Go after her before she gets away.”

Mrs. Styles-Rowdon had dropped her spent pistol and run from the room.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Tilda said, her voice quavering.

Hadrian pushed himself upright so that he wasn’t leaning on her. He met her gaze. “Go.”

She hesitated the barest moment before leaping to her feet and streaking from the room in a flurry of gray skirts.

“Hadrian?” Beryl’s query came weakly from the dressing room.

Wincing, Hadrian turned and used the doorframe to hoist himself up with his uninjured right arm. He stepped into the dressing room where Beryl lay next to the dresser. She lifted her hand and turned her head to the side.

He saw the blood on the floor and swore beneath his breath. Glancing about, he didn’t see anything to press to the wound. Moving to the dresser, he opened a drawer and removed the first thing he saw. Lifting Beryl’s head with his right hand, he put the cloth to her scalp using his left, grimacing against the pain.There was also a staggering throb behind his temples, courtesy of the visions he’d had whilst touching Mrs. Styles-Rowdon.

“Can you hold this?” he asked. “I need to help Tilda.”

Beryl blinked at him. “But you’re bleeding. Did I hear a pistol shot?”

“Yes. Yourfriendshot me. I really must ensure Tilda is all right. She’s gone after Mrs. Styles-Rowdon.” He stood. “I’ll send the housekeeper to help you.”

Hadrian turned and sprinted through the bedchamber. He ran down the stairs, moving so fast he nearly tumbled down the last few.

The housekeeper stood at the bottom, her face white. “What is happening?”

“Where did Mrs. Styles-Rowdon go?”