Page 82 of A Lady's Past
Still grinning after her bowl of soup was empty, Diana drifted back to sleep.
Several times in the night, she rolled over the wrong way and the pain was excruciating. Honoria was there once and Mrs. Fallcraft another time. She never woke and found the room empty. She had many people to thank when she recovered.
Mrs. Fallcraft said, “I know it is uncomfortable to lie on your back, but that shoulder will require it for a while.”
“I think I forgot while I slept,” Diana offered in explanation, which was probably unnecessary.
* * *
Acommotion in the hall woke her. Sunshine shone bright through the window. It was the first time she’d woken up with no one watching over her.
Men were shouting, and the door burst open.
Victor Caron ran through the door. Drool ran from his mouth and sores marred his lips. Red-rimmed, sunken eyes sparked with madness and malice. “I will kill you.”
Rolling to her left, she put the bed between herself and the madman coming for her. Her feet hit the floor hard, and her legs shook from lack of use. Screaming pain shot through her shoulder. She grabbed the glass from the bedside table and threw it left handed. She hit Victor on the forehead, but the shattering glass had no effect on him.
Skirting the bed, Victor kept coming, with his arms outstretched and hands like claws.
Alex and Jacques rushed in.
Grabbing the candlestick, Diana backed into the corner.
Screaming her name, Victor rushed forward and wrapped his hands around her throat.
Diana bashed his head with the candlestick, but her airway closed. She gagged. Pain racked her body. She beat his head and back, but it had little effect.
Alex grabbed Victor and pulled him away.
The sight of Jacques renewed Victor’s madness. He charged forward.
Jacques grabbed for something on the washstand. He lunged back to avoid Victor’s punch.
Undaunted, Victor raged forward, pinning Jacques to the wall.
Diana screamed.
Victor collapsed on the floor with a pair of scissors lodged in his chest.
Jacques ran over and lifted Diana from the corner. He took her out of the room, stepping over Cecilia, who was just rising from the floor, and Sebastian who remained still in the hallway.
She hugged him around the neck and a wave of nausea overtook her. “Jacques, I think I may be sick.”
Picking up his pace, he turned into his room. He put her down on the bed, grabbed a washbasin from the washstand and held her while she retched.
Heaving made the pain worse, which made the nausea worse. Diana wondered if dying at Victor’s hand wouldn’t have been better. Finally, the room stilled, and the queasiness subsided. She allowed Jacques to wipe her face and ease her back on the bed.
He went to the table and brought her something to drink. “Just a sip, then spit it in the bowl.”
How would she ever face him again? She did as he said, but wiped her own face this time. “Is he dead?”
Jacques pushed her hair back and dabbed her forehead with a cool towel. “I certainly hope so.”
“What happened?” Her stomach settled, but the pain from her shoulder stabbed like a knife and radiated across her back and down her arm.
“The Horsemen were ordered to transport Caron to London. He broke free, determined to get to you.”
“Is Mr. Turril badly hurt? How is Cecilia?” More people hurt on her account. Diana wanted to scream.
