Page 55 of A Lady's Dangerous Secret
But James heard a second shot and saw Lottie’s body crumple to the ground.
He did not even realize he screamed as he sprinted down the stairs to her. He prayed to the God in which he did not believe and to the devil, whoever would answer him.
I’ll do anything to keep Charlotte alive.
Anything.
He jumped over the gunman’s corpse and rushed to her side.
“Lottie, are you there?” James pleaded.
A moaning sound emerged from her body.
She’s alive!
James grabbed her empty pistol and shoved it into his pocket while throwing away his own gun across the gardens. Surely someone had heard the gunfire and would be outside soon.
He needed to take the blame. He gently moved Lottie onto her back.
That’s when he saw the injury.
Blood seeped from her left upper arm. He cursed and ripped off fabric from her petticoat and tied it around the wound. It was likedéjà vufrom the alleyway, but this time, it was a bullet and not a dagger.
“Lottie? Can you hear me? It’s James.”
“It hurts,” she groaned, then her body became limp.
Lottie will live.
Lottie will live.
James scooped her into his arms and ran toward the balcony. He bounded up the steps as quickly as he could while he held one hand over the bandaged wound. Once again, he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Maybe it was Lottie’s association with him that caused all this bad luck.
He was a bastard after all.
He reached the top of the stairs and was surprised none of the guests awaited him. The noise inside the ballroom must have been enough to muffle the sounds of the gunshots. James rushed through the door while the guests danced a quadrille, oblivious to the mayhem that had just occurred outside. Suddenly, a man of similar height to James stood before him.
“Is that Lady Charlotte?” the stranger demanded.
“Yes, she has been shot.”
“Good God, this way,” the man ordered. James followed him along the edge of the ballroom while the guests realized he carried a bloodied woman. Their whispers grew until the buzzing made James feel as if he were trapped in a beehive. Although he had tied the fragment of petticoat around Lottie’s arm, he could feel the moisture of the blood seep through the fabric. Gentlemen caught swooning ladies while James followed the stranger to the private rooms of the house, where a servant stood, monitoring the entrance.
The stranger barked orders to the man. “Call for Dr. Stone and tell him the Duke of Westcliffe needs him immediately.”
James’s stomach clenched when he realized this man was whom Lottie would wed. His Grace ushered James into an empty room. He seemed genuinely concerned. Servants followed them into the chamber, and the Duke ordered the staff to bring supplies for the wound.
James delicately placed her on a settee. His Grace continued to command the room.
A new, worried voice entered the fray. “Charlie!”
James turned to find a lean, young man rush toward Lottie, with light-brown hair and spectacles covering his hazel eyes.
“Who are you?” James demanded.
The man kneeled beside the settee and ran his arms up and down Lottie’s body to check for additional injuries. James was going to throttle this pup. He grabbed the young man’s shoulder. “I said, who are you?” James growled.
The man’s mouth dropped open, and he pushed up his spectacles in an affronted manner. He stood and James realized his lanky frame was taller than he thought. “I’m Arthur Tipton, Lady Charlotte’s brother. And who the hell are you?”
