Page 133 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
When the carriage drew to a halt, he could not move without hurting her, and his anger and frustration built as he waited probably barely moments for the groom to come.
As he carried her inside, his mother and Mary came into the hall.
Mary cried out when she saw the amount of blood over him as well as Katherine.
‘A bullet, Mama,’ John said, looking to her for help.
‘Take her up. I shall have boiled water, liquor and linen brought up and I will send for a surgeon.’
‘Papa has already gone to find one.’
She nodded, then disappeared through a servants’ door. Mary rushed ahead of John, opening the door to Katherine’s chamber when he reached it.
His feet felt too heavy to move, and his heart like marble in his chest. If she died, he would die too. He couldn’t live without her. He would not.
‘John.’ His mother was at the door behind them. ‘Leave her with me, and you can get out of those bloody things.’ But it was Katherine’s precious blood on his clothes, he did not want to change.
His mother’s hand brushed his arm. ‘Go, John, change, otherwise you will frighten her when she wakes.’
His eyes turned to Katherine. She lay limp and unconscious.
He had failed her completely. He had left her this morning and let her get hurt.
‘I will look after her, John,’ his mother urged.
‘Where is the patient?’ A man’s voice stretched along the landing.
The surgeon.
Mary rushed from the room. ‘Here!’
His mother held John’s arm. ‘Go. Let the doctor clean her wound. I will stay with her. If she wakes I will send for you.’
He nodded, then bent and kissed Katherine’s brow before pressing his cheek to hers. Her skin was cold and clammy. Whispering to her ear, he said, ‘I love you. I will not leave you for long.’
The doctor entered.
‘You must do everything necessary to save her,’ John said, before leaving the room.
His father stood on the landing.
‘How is she?’
‘Alive but unconscious.’ The words sounded cold, as though he did not care. He did care. ‘I am going to change.’ But he needed a drink first.
Edward briefly wrapped a hand about John’s arm. ‘She will survive.’
John felt pain leak into his eyes. The numbness had passed and now he was in agony. This was all his fault.
Not really knowing where he walked, just walking, John went downstairs to the library.
He poured a brandy, and as he sipped it he saw a mental image of Katherine, in the chair, looking through his sketches. ‘I wish to be your friend and your helpmate as much as your wife.’
He had not wholly trusted her… He had not told her about Wareham. He had shut her out when she had asked. He did not even have a reason why. It was just his habit not to share things.
Clutching the edge of his desk, he let it take his weight, the thin husk of his control cracking and emotion surging in. He wished he could weep, he longed to weep, to cry and have this out, but the ability to cry had been beaten out of him.
Instead anger filled the void of despair. He blamed himself, true, but there was someone else…
