Page 64 of Forever Her Bachelor

“You saved Newt?” Her weary voice came out as a whisper.

Pippa’s mind struggled to comprehend his words, and she suddenly felt exhausted. He had constantly complained about Newt. Newt had found her at her loneliest, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him. He had been a small kitten ina litter of six at the modiste Madame Beaumont’s. Newt had gotten free and ran directly to Pippa, ripping the dress that she was being fitted into.

She had loved him instantly.

“Of course, I saved him. He belongs to you. Now, let’s head back. We need to check on Randall and the others.” Chauncey’s firm hand on her lower back directed her forward.

Every part of her body felt heavier with each step they took back toward the carriages. A desperate need to be safely tucked into a soft warm bed next to her husband overcame Pippa. She needed to show him how much him saving Newt meant to her. Pieces of her soul were whole for the first time in years. He did it for her, and that meant everything to Pippa.

Pippa and Chauncey walked through the clearing. “Your Grace! Your Grace!” Agnes called out.

Pippa rushed over to Agnes and Patrick while Chauncey went over to the two highwaymen who had removed their masks.

“Are you both well?” Pippa asked, bending down to soothe a frantic Agnes.

There were no visible signs of injury on the poor girl, but her body was shaking profusely, a constant stream of tears falling down her face. “Patrick’s leg is broken.”

Pippa moved to where Patrick lay, his leg bent in an odd position. “Where is the coachman?” Pippa asked, looking around but seeing no signs ofSamson, the other coachman.

“I haven’t seen him,” Agnes answered, her body trembling in fear.

“Can you walk?” Pippa asked Patrick, looking at his broken leg.

“No, Your Grace?—”

“Pippa, come quickly!” Chauncey screamed from the other carriage.

She jumped, racing toward him without question, passing the two injured highwaymen who were tied together. Their masks had been removed, revealing their identities, one plain, one too handsome. She wasn’t entirely sure what she expected her captor to look like, but she wasn’t expecting a handsome man with gray eyes, a long, crooked nose, and sharp cheekbones.

Ignoring the two men, she began to piece together that perhaps they were not highwaymen at all. There was no time for her to focus on anything but reaching Chauncey. He knelt beside a bleeding Randall, his hand was pressed down on a gushing gunshot wound.

Bending down, Pippa checked his pulse, noting that it was steady. Her father had often taken care of both Pippa and her mother whenever they were ill, and he had taught her how to help and care for him when he took to his bed.

“It’s too much blood,” Chauncey said, pushing down firmer.

“Keep putting pressure on it,” Pippa commanded as she stood.

She lifted her skirts, not caring for modesty with a man’s life on the line. Tearing her chemise, Pippa took the thin material and wrapped it around Randall’s wound.

“Promise me—” Randall tried to say more but began coughing.

“Don’t exhaust yourself.” Chauncey took Randall’s hand with one of his bloody ones. “Save your strength.”

Pippa heart warmed at her husband’s kindness toward a servant. How he took time to comfort an injured man was not the behavior of an entitled gentleman.

“If I don’t make it, promise me, you’ll find Maggie and tell her I never stopped loving her.” Randall pleaded with her husband, his free hand gripping his waistcoat.

“You’re going to make it! You’ll find her and tell her yourself—” Chauncey stopped abruptly as Randall was renderedinsensible from exhaustion. “Randall?” He shook the man frantically.

Pippa checked his pulse finding it easily. “He’s still alive, but we must get him to a doctor.”

“We must get him to Archer Castle,” St. Clara said, standing and looking around at their surroundings.

With her body aching and her heart still pounding, Pippa placed the back of her hand on her forehead, relieved that Randall was still alive. They were all safe—that was what really mattered—but she couldn’t help but remember Randall’s plea for a woman whose name Pippa knew as well as her own. A name that pierced through her, bringing back the memories of the day that changed Pippa’s life forever.

Maggie.

The full moon cast an eerie glow over the grounds of Archer Castle as a cold late-summer wind whipped around St. Clara. As he pulled his meager coat around him, his free arm slipped around his wife, trying to warm her.