Page 2
Chapter
Two
" Q uickly, get him upstairs. He's unconscious again." Angelica cursed, and hurried up the stairs, moving before the servants to open the spare room's door and allowing the footmen to carry the injured gentleman inside.
The room smelled faintly of lavender sachets and beeswax polish, the heavy drapes drawn against the gray afternoon light. The fire in the hearth set but not lit, the chill in the air reaching every corner of the chamber.
The injured man appeared tall and muscular, and by the time the footmen entered the room, their faces were red from exertion, their arms shaking with the determination to carry him and not drop the poor fellow.
They placed him on the bed, and without thinking of what etiquette she was breaking by touching a man who was not her husband, Angelica studied the hole in his breeches where blood oozed through, even with a cravat tied high on his thigh.
Her fingers trembled as she reached toward the torn fabric, the damp warmth of his blood seeping into the cloth. The man stirred faintly under her touch, a barely audible groan escaping his lips—whether from pain or some fevered dream, she could not tell.
"He's bleeding. Has the doctor been sent for?"
Her maid entered with towels and followed close on her heels by another who carried hot water. "Yes, my lady. He'll be here soon, I'm sure." Her maid set down the items she'd requested and came to stand at her side. "What can I do to help?" she asked.
"We need scissors to cut off his breeches." Angelica ignored the startled glances from the footmen and, with a wave of her hand, dismissed them. "Help me with his boots."
Her maid did as she asked, and together they were able to untie his knee-high leather boots, pulling them free from his body.
Blood had pooled in his boots, and her maid threw them over near the fire to keep the floors from being ruined.
The boots landed with a dull thud, their fine craftsmanship marred by mud and bloodstains.
"What a mess this gentleman is in. Whatever do you think happened?"
"Apparently their carriage was accosted by a highwayman, and he shot him. I do hope Rosalind and Ravensmere are home soon. I do worry for their safety if there is a highwayman loose in our county."
"I shall inform the staff who live in the village to be vigilant, my lady."
"Thank you," she said, picking up the scissors a maid had carried in. She went to work cutting off his breeches.
The fabric split with a soft rip, revealing a muscular thigh dusted with dark hair. Angelica’s gaze lingered for a breath too long on the sharp lines of his hip, the faint ridge of muscle beneath the skin. Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away, silently scolding herself.
She took one of the towels and placed it under his thigh, hoping that would help with catching the oozing blood, but her stomach twisted in fear at what would occur the moment the cravat was untied from his leg. Would the man bleed out? Would he die? How horrible for him.
Her attention slipped to his face, and she noted his strong jaw, straight nose, and high cheekbones. His dark hair, slightly damp with sweat, curled over his brow in loose, unruly waves, and a faint shadow of stubble darkened his jaw.
Such a handsome young fellow too. Too young to die, and nor would she let him. If it were the last act of kindness she did at home before traveling to London for the Season, she would ensure this stranger would also return to his family, hale and whole.
He stirred again, the pain sharp and unrelenting. His mind, no doubt, fogged by agony.
"Do you think the doctor will be able to save him, my lady?"
Angelica frowned, unsure. Although she'd never seen anyone who had been shot before, the wound was offensive—looked visibly dirty from the bullet that had entered—and refused to stop bleeding.
Had the bullet hit an artery? She wasn't sure even the doctor could save him from the fate that hovered.
"My angel, you've come to save me…"
His deep voice startled her, and she jumped before looking up to meet the greenest eyes she'd ever seen staring back at her, besides her own, with more clarity than she'd thought possible right at this moment.
The raw vulnerability in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her breath caught in her throat. Her hand trembled as she reached for a clean cloth. "We're certainly going to try, sir, but your wound is very serious. I'm not going to lie to you."
He nodded, seemingly understanding what she was saying, before he closed his eyes and went limp once more, no doubt once again unconscious.
Angelica clasped a clean cloth and dipped it into the salty, hot water.
She wiped his leg, making sure to keep away from the wound site and cleaned him up as best she could.
She placed several cloths on his wound, pressing hard the entire time to try to stem the flow of blood, and after several minutes, the flow of blood had seemed to have slowed.
Her own heartbeat thundered in her ears, and she bit her lip to keep her composure. Just in time, too, for the doctor strode through the bedroom door, doctor's bag in hand and a worried frown between his brows.
"Lady Angelica, what has happened?"
"A highwayman on the main road, Dr. Montgomery," she said, moving out of the way to allow the doctor to look at the patient. "He was shot, and I think the wound has stopped bleeding a little, but he's in and out of consciousness."
"Understandable," the doctor said, pulling several instruments out of the bag that made Angelica wince. And when he started probing the wound site, her maid bolted from the room.
The doctor gave the fleeing maid a cursory glance. "Probably a good thing, my lady. I do not need another person unconscious on the floor."
She nodded and watched him tend the wound. He slipped some laudanum into the patient's mouth, and within a minute or so the pain that had been etched on the gentleman's face eased. The sharp scent of alcohol and opium drifted in the air, making Angelica’s stomach churn.
The doctor cut open the wound further, and with a little instrument that appeared far too large for the wound site, he dug into the hole and pulled out what was left of the shell of the bullet.
"There, with that out, we shall hopefully have him on the mend, but he'll not be able to be moved for several days.” The doctor probed farther.
“I do not think the bullet has hit a main vein or artery, but keeping the patient still for some time will be paramount.” He paused, turning to look at her.
“Will the duke approve having the gentleman under your roof, do you suppose? "
"I do not think he will mind. Not when he finds out what has occurred."
She watched as the doctor stitched the gentleman's leg up and then wrapped it with a clean bandage.
Angelica helped him remove the blood-stained sheets and towels, replacing the bedding with clean linen before standing back and watching the gentleman.
He remained asleep, no doubt both from the pain he was living with and the laudanum he'd been given.
His breathing was shallow, the rise and fall of his chest a fragile rhythm she prayed would continue.
"I shall come back tomorrow. If he shows any sign of fever in the next three days, or the bleeding is excessive call for me at once, no matter the time."
"Of course," she said, hoping that did not occur. The man had already lost an alarming amount of blood, and he did not need anything else to hinder his healing.
"I shall be back tomorrow to change his bandages in the morning and again tomorrow night. Thank you for your assistance today, Lady Angelica, you're a very capable young woman."
Angelica smiled at the compliment, happy to hear such a nice thing about herself.
She escorted the doctor to the front door and wished him well before returning inside. "I shall be in the room with the patient. Send the duke and duchess up to see me as soon as they return from the village and notify the carriage driver that so far the injured man is stable."
"Of course, my lady," a footman stated, closing the front door.
Angelica headed back upstairs and went and grabbed her diary before returning to the patient's room. She pulled a chair beside the bed and ordered the fire to be lit to ensure the room remained a comfortable temperature. The flames soon grew bright in the hearth, casting a warm flicker across the patient’s pale skin.
She sat for what felt like hours before Rosalind and the duke hurried into the room.
"Dearest, what has happened? Thomas told us what had occurred and I could barely believe there was a highwayman nearby."
"Yes, and one who is willing to shoot people, it would seem."
"I shall have the local magistrate informed at once, and he can see about sending out some men to try to find this fiend." The duke came and stood at the end of the bed just as Rosalind came to stand beside Angelica, reaching down to take her hand.
"He's wearing a black cravat and shirt. A seminarian student, perhaps? And yet he looks familiar. Who did the driver say this man was again?"
Angelica had assumed the same. "A Catholic student, I would guess.” She turned to her maid waiting quietly by the door. “Can you have one of the footmen ask the driver the gentleman’s name? In all the chaos, I forgot to ask.”
“Of course, my lady,” her maid said, before slipping out of the room.
“Do you know of anyone who would be traveling through here who would fit his description?" she asked her brother-in-law while taking in their patient and how pale he appeared.
The duke frowned in thought. "There are many people who travel through here, but maybe tomorrow, if he's more lucid, he may be able to tell us who he is if the driver is unaware. However, I do not think that will be the case."
"He's on laudanum, so I think any information we gather on him will be from his driver. The doctor gave him quite a large dose.” She studied him, wondering if he was indeed a Catholic priest. Maybe he'd taken his orders already.
Was he a man who had already made his vows?
A man who had sworn away the very feelings she hoped to find during her Season?
She could not imagine such a life, and yet, it would seem this gentleman had.
A pity, for he was exceedingly handsome, even if he were unconscious right at this moment.
Shame washed over her at the thought. She should not have such shallow and impure thoughts about a man who had chosen another way of life.
If he had indeed chosen the church for himself.
Her fingers brushed the edge of the small cross that sat against her chest, the cool metal a silent reminder of the divide between them.
"I shall have a maid come and sit in here with you if you're to be alone with the gentleman. I'll not have any scandal touch you with your Season about to commence."
"You cannot think that I shall be accosted by an injured, unconscious man, Rosalind," Angelica mused, trying to stop a laugh from bubbling out of her.
"I will indeed do so," her sister said. "You're one of the prettiest women in England. You could lure the stoutest of men to your whim, priests not excepted."