“I shall send our fastest rider,” Buchanan assured me, racing to the stables.
Edwin clutched Robert’s hand. “Please do not die, brother.”
A shadow cast across Robert’s face. I turned to glance behind me. Richard Prescott loomed over us. “Go away, you wicked man!” I shouted to him. “Leave this place!” He turned to glance at his dead body across the field. “Yes,” I said. “You are dead. Now go! To the depths of Hell where you belong!”
I turned my attention to Edwin. “We must get him to his bed. You must carry him while I keep the pressure on the wound.” My small handkerchief sopped with blood already. Edwin nodded. He began to lift Robert, but Robert groaned, causing Edwin to cease his attempt.
Robert’s eyes flitted open. “Robert,” I soothed. “Lie still. You are wounded but alive. You must let us care for you.”
His eyes met mine. “Lenora,” he whispered. “Fear not. You shall be well provided for.”
“Do not try to speak,” I warned, wishing him to conserve his energy and not wanting to hear his goodbye.
“Lenora, I …” he breathed before his eyes closed.
“Oh, no,” Edwin groaned.
I swallowed hard as my blood-covered fingers sought a pulse in his neck. I prayed as I pressed my bloody fingers against his skin, searching for a pulse beat. I felt nothing. I closed my eyes, pressing harder. A slight thump reached my fingers. “He is alive,” I announced. “Quickly, Edwin, we must get him to the castle.”
Edwin breathed a sigh of relief and gathered Robert’s limp form into his arms. I kept my fingers pressed firmly against the bullet wound as we traversed to the castle. With some effort, we made it, climbing the stairs and hurrying to Robert’s room. Ella pulled back the bedcovers and Edwin placed Robert’s slack form in his bed.
I kept careful watch on his shallow breathing as Ella retrieved a towel to hold over his wound. I prayed with every fiber in my being that Robert survived this. Ella offered to take over keeping pressure to the wound, though I could not bring myself to remove my hands.
Within the hour, Dr. MacAndrews arrived with an assistant. Buchanan showed him into the bedroom where he assessed the wound. “I shall need to remove the bullet. It is lodged in his chest,” he said. “It is good he is unconscious. He shall not feel the pain.”
“What are his chances?” I inquired.
“We shall know better when the bullet is removed. Mr. Fletcher, Miss Sinclair, please escort Duchess Blackmoore from the room.”
“I wish to stay.”
“It would be better if you did not,” Dr. MacAndrews insisted.
“I am not squeamish. I can assist.”
“I have my own assistant, well-trained in the medical field. I shall call for you as soon as I have completed the procedure.”
I nodded, allowing Ella to direct me from the room. “We should take care of this, Your Grace.” Ella nodded to me. I glanced down, first noticing my blood-stained hands, then realizing my dress was drenched in Robert’s blood.
“I wish to stay close,” I murmured.
“And you shall, as soon as we have changed your dress. You do not want His Grace to see this upon awakening.”
I nodded and plodded along with Ella to my bedroom. My lower lip trembled as I scrubbed the blood from my hands. Ella redressed me in a clean dress, and we hurried back to Robert’s bedroom.
“Anything?” I asked Edwin.
“No,” he stated. “Nothing.”
I paced the floor outside his room. “Let me bring you a chair, Lenora,” Edwin offered.
“I am fine,” I insisted. “I could not sit still if I tried.”
Silence fell over us as we awaited news from the doctor. After a time, Edwin spoke. “I did not realize in either instance what Richard intended to do to Annie.”
I stared at him. “I wanted you to know that, Lenora. After this is over, I will respect my brother’s wishes. I will keep my distance. But I wanted you to know that I did not know his intentions.”
I stared at him, trying to comprehend the reasoning behind his admission. “I wanted you to know,” he repeated after a moment. “You were one of the few people who offered me kindness, Lenora. I did not wish you to think ill of me. Though the part I played in this is inexcusable, I did not realize how serious it was until it was far too late.”
I nodded at him, unable to respond. Dr. MacAndrews spared us any further conversation when he emerged from Robert’s room.
“What news?” I questioned, rushing to him.
“I have removed the bullet,” he answered. “And closed the wound. He remains unconscious. We must keep a careful eye that infection does not set in.”
“When will he awaken?” I asked.
“I do not know,” Dr. MacAndrews admitted.
“But he will awaken?” I prodded.
The doctor hesitated and my heart dropped. “There is no reason to expect he won’t,” he hedged. He then continued his instructions. “Keep cool compresses on his forehead and watch for any signs of fever. If he has any distress or becomes feverish, call for me at once. If he wakes, send for me.”
“If?” I questioned.
“When,” Dr. MacAndrews corrected with a slight smile of reassurance.
I nodded. “I shall sit with him.”
I entered the room as Edwin saw the doctor and his assistant out. I dragged a chair to Robert’s bedside and eased into it, grasping his hand in mine. I stared at his pale form, grey and quiet. His hand was cold against my flesh. I adjusted his covers to ensure warmth.
Minutes turned to hours, and the day waned to evening. Robert did not move, but his shallow, rhythmic breathing continued. As the skies darkened, Ella suggested I come away to rest.
“No,” I argued. “I will not leave him until he is awake.”
“I shall stay with him,” Edwin offered. “I shall fetch you at once if he stirs.”
I insisted on staying and Ella brought me a small meal and offered to stay
