Page 105 of Sinful Persuasion of a Lady in the Making
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Help us!”
Jenny’s throat was raw with pain and anguish and screams. She had fallen to her knees just as Sebastian had fallen backwards, her vision filled with the deep red of his blood.
“Help!”
From the corner of her vision, she saw someone rush past, brushing against her as she fell, giving chase to the shooter.
“I command you to stop!” he cried, and as he reached out to grab the shooter, they tumbled together onto the floor.
“Sebastian,” Jenny whimpered, careful not to touch his wound but her head racing with what to do. She could feel the warmth of her tears running down her cheeks, but she ignored it. “Sebastian, you’re going to be all right, we’re going to get you help.”
Beneath her fingers, Sebastian squirmed and groaned, and Jenny sobbed with gratitude that he was alive.
“Jenny! What happened?”
She looked up to see Teresa and Alison running toward them, both pale with shock.
“Wh—”
“We were following,” Alison said hurriedly.
“And a good thing we were, too,” Teresa said. She brought an air of calm with her, a business-like attitude that had her quickly kneeling next to Sebastian and checking him over. “We’ve sent for the coach to take us home, and the physician who will meet us there.”
“Thank—”
Jenny couldn’t get the words out, her breath catching on her tears and her terror. She moved slowly out of Teresa’s way, still by Sebastian’s side but giving Teresa space to work, as she had a little nursing experience from her time as the administrator at the Wearwood School for Young Ladies.
“All right, Lord Hartwood. Can you hear me?”
He groaned again, and Jenny could feel her whole body shaking violently.
“We’re getting you help. Try to stay awake, if you can.”
“What happened?” he croaked, opening his eyes.
“Oh, Sebastian,” Jenny whimpered. She brushed the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hands.
She looked up at Alison, who hadn’t got onto the ground with them. Instead, she remained standing and looking ahead, to where the gentleman had tackled the shooter.
“I think I know him,” she muttered, although to no one in particular and Jenny ignored the sense of familiarity.
Jenny’s head shot round to face the two men. The gentleman had managed to grapple the pistol from the shooter’s hands and dragged him to his feet.
“Get off me,” the shooter growled, twisting to try to free himself.
“Not a chance. You’re coming with me.”
He marched him past Sebastian, past Jenny and the ladies, toward the coach park. Jenny watched open mouthed, and the man nodded solemnly to her as he went. All Jenny could hear was the thumping of her heart, and she blinked, confused and awed at this seemingly random man who had helped them.
After a moment of stillness, the footman and coachman arrived, running so fast they skidded on the gravel.
“Miss Jones? Mrs. Jones?”
“Lord Hartwood is badly hurt,” Jenny said, her words tumbling urgently out. “He needs assistance right away.”
“I’m all right,” he said, the croak in his voice lighter now, but still there.
