Page 67 of A Daring Pursuit

Miss Wimbley hadn’t donned so much as a shawl, and with the clouds turning dark, she had no hope of beating the oncoming storm. Noah didn’t hesitate, dashing from the sitting room for the nearest stairwell. He skidded down the three flights and out the laboratory door, where the gales nearly knocked him off his feet, and raced for the cliffs—

A grizzled-faced man he didn’t recognize towered over her slight frame. His stringy hair billowed in the demon-gusts. He stepped forward and she stepped back. He took another, edging her closer to an imminent end. His massive hand came up, palm out—

“Geneva!” Propriety forgotten, her given name escaped from him on a full-throated cry. Using all the strength he could muster into his voice, he prayed she heard over the powerful surf below.

The man’s hand stopped midair. His unshaven face swiveled to Noah. Hate emanated from him in powerful waves. But the man didn’t run. He spun back to Geneva, planted his palm on her chest, and pushed.

“No,” Noah roared as she disappeared from sight.

Chapter Twenty-Four

There was nogoing after the bastard, he’d disappeared through the trees. Noah reached the cliff, terrified he’d find Geneva’s body, broken and bloodied. To his relief, she’d landed half on the path below. She lay on her back, one arm and one leg hung over the edge.God help her.One deep breath could send her over, tumbling to an inevitable fate. The blustery force seemed colder than it had the night Father had set Julius in Noah’s lap. A raindrop landed on his nose. Her time was expiring.

Noah raced down the path and knelt at her side.Unconscious.The fall hadn’t been as far as he’d feared. He did a quick check of her limbs and neck. Nothing appeared fractured, but spinal injuries were known to render a person paralyzed.

“What happened?”

Noah’s gaze shot to the voice shouting from the top of the cliff.

Baldric stared down at him and yelled, “She need a trolly?”

“I don’t know yet.” Noah cleared his mind of everything that could go wrong to concentrate like the scientist he was, though inside, dread was its own monster threatening to suck him into a vortex of black horror. He swiped more rain from his face.

Gently, he rolled her like a log doing his best to keep her neck as straight as possible and did a cursory check along her spine. Nothing seemed out of alignment, but he feared causing further damage if he lifted her.

But the sky opened up, drenching the two of them, and there was no other option. With extreme care, he carried her up the winding path. She weighed hardly a feather, but gusty winds and blinding rain did their damnedest to fight him on the trek up, Noah reached the top and it was a wonder he could stand.

Baldric met them with a cloak and threw it over her. A small attempt to protect her from the worst of the elements. But the flimsy coat was no match for the malevolent wind ravishing them and it sailed away.

Noah aimed for the closest door. The one that led to his laboratory. He turned to Baldric. “Fetch the constable… and the doctor. Just to be safe.”

“Reckon they’ll want t’ be moving in at the rate things are happenin’ ’round here,” he muttered, striding away faster than Noah had ever seen him move before.

Noah stepped inside, nearly plowing into Sander. “Someone pushed her. I-I couldn’t reach her in time.” Guilt cut the air to his lungs and they burned.

“I saw. Come, let’s get her warm and dry.” Sander held the door open to the ground floor. “Take her up the main staircase. It’s warmer and safer.”

Noah didn’t hesitate, with a surge of new energy and sheer will, he took the stairs by two then ran for the main staircase.

Isabelle met them at the base.

“Tell Pasha Miss Wimbley fell. She requires dry clothes,” Noah barked.

Verda appeared at the top of the stairs with her quick, assessing gaze. “Winfield, have Mrs. Knagg send the servants up with hot water,” she said. “Quickly.”

Noah hadn’t even noticed the old man. Winfield disappeared as silently as he’d appeared. Regardless, Noah couldn’t have choked out another word if someone held a musket to his head. He reached the Blue Suite and found Pasha inside Geneva’sbedchamber, holding a worn, cotton night rail. The coverlets had already been folded back.

“You’ll need help with the sodden clothes,” he said with a low growl.

“But—”

Verda brushed past him. “I’ll assist Pasha,” she told him. “Go to the kitchens and bring tea in the event she comes to. And brandy for yourself,” she added.

“Wrong. I’ll be searching the woods for the culprit.”

*

Hours later—correction—hours andhours later, Noah pushed the damp hair from his forehead and entered the Blue Suite. The color, according to Isabelle, represented calmness, but he was anything but. The oppressive and heavy atmosphere nearly suffocated him, as if he’d entered the family’s mausoleum and the door had clanged shut behind him.

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