Page 35 of The Secret of Flirting
She took a moment to give the matter some thought before drawing her faux regality about her like a cloak. “Right now, the position of Belgium could be better. It is finally free, yes, but like a newborn babe, it is forced to bow to the wishes of adults with competing goals.” Much likeher, come to think of it. “Belgium has never governed itself or defended itself against intruders, and now must find its way through the morass of protocols and conflicting expectations. Thus, it is important for Belgium to take command of its future aggressively before anyone—”
An explosion occurred somewhere nearby, startling the horses and momentarily confusing her.
“Get down!” Lord Fulkham ordered, and when she stared stupidly at him, not quite aware of what was going on, he shoved her off the seat and into the well between it and the dashboard. Then he cracked the whip and sprang the horses into a run.
Again came a noise like an explosion, but this time she registered what it was. A gunshot. Someone was firing at them!
Terror froze her in place. Flora was screaming as the curricle raced along, and Lord Fulkham was cursing under his breath. The whole while, Monique clung to the seat behind her with clammy hands and kept her head down, her pulse galloping as fast as the horses.
Why on earth would anyone shoot at them? Was this a common occurrence in the parks of London? What if they hit Lord Fulkham? What would she do then?
Her stomach churned, and her throat closed up. She couldn’t breathe. Oh, God, she didn’t want to die! Not now, not here, so far away from her home!
Within moments they were back on Rotten Row, where men in uniform were already riding toward them, drawn by the shots, which thankfully had stopped now that they were surrounded by crowds.
Lord Fulkham reined the horses in and glanced down at her, his mouth drawn with concern. “Are you all right?”
He lifted her back into the seat. She bobbed her head.
“Flora?” he called back to the maid, shocking Monique. Gentlemen of rank never cared about servants.
At least the maid had stopped that awful screaming. “I—I’m f-fine, sir,” she stammered just as the first uniformed soldier reached them.
Lord Fulkham turned to the soldier. “Captain, there was a man shooting from among the silver birches back by the Serpentine,” he said, sounding eerily calm. “Find him! I must get the princess away.”
“Yes, my lord,” the captain said, and rode off.
Her heart still in her throat, Monique clutched her bonnet with one hand and the side of the carriage with the other as Lord Fulkham tooled the curricle out of the park. His lips were set in a hard line, and his eyes blazed.
She had never seen him like this. “D-do you think the danger is over now?”
“I can’t be sure, and I’m not taking any chances.”
The curricle careened through the streets until he pulled it up in front of the Mayfair town house. Before the grooms could even rush out to put down the step, Lord Fulkham was out of the carriage and around to her side, reaching up to clasp her by the waist.
He lifted her down as easily as he’d lifted her onto the seat. One would think she was light as a croissant. She was not. Indeed, sometimes she enjoyed her croissants a bit too much. Yet he gave no sign of being overtaxed.
With a hoarse cry, Flora jumped down and ran up the steps into the house most uncharacteristically, clearly rattled by the shooting. Lord Fulkham kept Monique in his grasp, trapped between the curricle and his rigid form.
“Are you certain you’re all right?” he asked.
She fought for calm. “Of course. Don’t I look all right?”
He scanned her, from the top of her ridiculous hat to her collarette to her—
“Oh, God,” he said hoarsely. For the first time that afternoon, she heard a tremor in his voice.
“What?”
He grabbed the gigot part of her left sleeve and thrust his finger through two holes in it. “A bullet came through here.” His voice grew ragged. “A few inches to the right, and he would have hit your heart.”
Her heart, which had not been hit, nonetheless dropped into her stomach. “You... you think he was aiming for me.”
The count came out of the front door and hurried down the steps. “What happened? Flora is hysterical and babbling about gunshots.”
Veiling his gaze, Lord Fulkham released her. “We should discuss this inside.”
Her great-uncle glanced from him to Monique. “But the princess appears unharmed.”
