Page 66 of The Butterfly
“She can survive this, Adam,” she assured him while cutting Daphne’s garments away from her body. “She is a strong woman. I think she has proven that by how steadfast she has been in toleratingyou.”
He gave a dry chuckle at that, but did not bother to deny how obstinate he was.
Olivia made quick work of the gown, cutting right through the string of Daphne’s stays before splitting her chemise and petticoats right down the middle. Adam was forced to release her hand as Maeve approached to help pull the shredded garments from under Daphne’s body. Then, together, they began bathing away the blood. There was far too much of it—more than a body ought to contain. But, it came slowly from the wound, oozing as if it had been stifled by pressure. If he and Niall had managed to slow it, she stood a chance. The injury was ugly, the bullet having lodged deep in her shoulder. Angry red lines grew away from the entry point, the flesh around it swollen and jagged. Her chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, her breath noisy as it sawed in and out through her mouth.
“What became of Bertram?” she asked while gently bathing the flesh around the wound. She needed to know that he’d pay for this as well, that his little stunt had not helped him to escape justice.
“He was taken down screaming and spitting like a madman,” Adam grumbled, unstopping one of the bottles of spirits and taking a gulp. “If Daphne had not needed me, I would have put him down myself. But he’ll face a trial for what he did to you and the other women, and probably the attempt on Daphne’s life, as well. This was what you all wanted, was it not … when you went behind my back to arrange this little coup?”
Olivia paused in her ministrations, gazing up at him with eyes she felt certain betrayed everything.
“I did not realize it beforehand,” he said. “But all the way home in the hack, I was able to think over how Daphne and Niall pulled it off. Did you think I would not realize you helped them?”
With a sigh, she went back to her work, switching her bloodied linen for a clean one to bathe the splattered droplets from Daphne’s neck and face. “Of course I helped them, Hart. Did you think I’d let you go down with him?”
“You should have!” he snapped. “If it meant you and Serena would be safe … if it meant Daphne could be free of him, too. Now look at her. She could die, and all because you and Niall could not leave well enough alone!”
Her mouth fell open, her annoyance with him warring with her pity on his behalf. He worried for Daphne, but she certainly did not appreciate being blamed for their present situation.
“Perhaps if you had not been so hell-bent on your revenge, we might have all been spared the need for secrecy and lies,” she spat, glaring at him over Daphne’s prone body. “If you had not been so bullheaded, perhaps she wouldn’t have had to go behind your back, and I wouldn’t have had to help her! Maybe if you’d listened to her, she wouldn’t have had to take a bullet to save your miserable life. Perhaps you ought to think of all she’s given up to save you, even though you do not deserve it. Furthermore, you might remember that justice for Bertram’s crimes was never yours to pursue. Justice belonged to me. It belonged to Lady Cassandra and Lady Parham and all those other women who stood up to him tonight—who will tell the world what he did to them so the other young ladies of thetonneed not suffer as we have suffered. Then, you might thank us for taking him down and helping you keep your idiotic head on your shoulders where it belongs!”
Niall and the surgeon arrived just as she fell silent, the weight of Adam’s stare resting upon her, his eyes alight with shock. She did not think she’d ever spoken so forcefully to him. As she arranged a bed sheet over Daphne for modesty and stepped back to let the surgeon through, she could only hope he’d take her words to heart. If Daphne survived this, it might not be too late for Adam to make up for the hell he’d put her through.
She went to Niall as the surgeon leaned over the bed on one side, Adam hovering close by on the other. He took her into his arms, clinging tight to her. His gaze was haunted as he looked down at her, his face tight and drawn. He had to have seen Daphne get shot, and she could only imagine how distressing that must have been. She held him as tight as he held her, offering him what comfort she could.
After poking and prodding for a moment, the surgeon straightened, opening the black bag he’d laid on the bed beside Daphne. “There are far too many people in the room. I’ll need it clear to perform the extraction.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Adam snapped almost before the man had finished speaking. “The rest of you can go.”
Maeve moved by rote to obey the master’s orders, shooing the other maids from the room. Olivia hesitated a moment, even as Niall took her hand and began tugging her after them. She met Adam’s gaze and found him staring back at her, anger and grief warring in his eyes. She did not like abandoning him alone when he was in such a state.
“Go,” he urged again. “I’m not leaving her, but you should not be here for this.”
She nodded, allowing Niall to pull her into the corridor and close the door behind them. As the panel swung closed, the surgeon’s voice floated out to them.
“You’ll want to be prepared with those spirits, my lord. When I go in for the bullet, the pain will awaken her, and she’ll be grateful for a little something, I’m sure.”
Adam’s deep voice rumbled through the closed door, and a moment later, Daphne’s sharp scream rang out through the house loud enough to wake the dead. Olivia flinched, her legs going weak as she wailed like someone being stabbed in the heart. While she was glad Daphne had lived, she did not know which was worse—her silent unconsciousness, or her present state.
“Come, Livvie,” Niall urged, trying to pull her away from the door. “There’s nothin’ we can do but wait and pray.”
And wait they did, after looking in on Serena to ensure the commotion hadn’t awakened her. Seeing she still slept soundly, they retreated to the drawing room where Niall paced and swigged brandy from a tumbler while Olivia sat before the harp. Desperate for a diversion, something to keep her mind off the screams of the woman being tortured upstairs and the stains of her blood upon Niall’s clothes, she played. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the music, finding succor in it and hoping it gave Niall something to focus on, as well.
She strummed the harp for what felt like hours, playing every composition that came to mind, then pulling her own music out of thin air, stringing together notes and chords until she nearly collapsed from exhaustion. By the time she came to, the sun had just begun to rise over the windowsill, setting the room aglow with orange and pink light. Niall had laid upon a settee and fallen asleep, his empty tumbler resting on a side table. The surgeon appeared in the doorway just as she stood from her stool, back aching, legs screaming in protest, fingers cramped.
She came forward to meet the man, her palms breaking out in a sweat as she awaited the news. “Well?”
“I was able to successfully remove the bullet and staunch the flow of blood before sewing the wound. Because the shot was not through and through, she was able to sustain in time for me to get to her. From here, you can only wait … keep the wound clean, change the bandages frequently, give laudanum or spirits for the pain. We will not know until she awakens, but there could have been damage done to her nerves. It could mean she’ll lose use of the entire arm, or limited dexterity. It is better than death, I daresay. The earl is with her now … I will return in a few days to look in on her. If she remains abed to allow the injury to heal, I predict she will regain her strength in time.”
Olivia breathed a heavy sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging and her head growing light. Fatigue slammed into her in an instant, having been held at bay until she knew what would become of Daphne.
“We are grateful for your help.”
“Tell His Lordship to send for me if he has a need. Perhaps you ought to rest now.”
She nodded, watching numbly as he turned to leave, accepting his coat and hat from a waiting footman before stepping out into the dawn. The closing door snapped her out of the daze, and she set off toward the stairs. Niall should be allowed to sleep as long as he needed. She would not wake him, not even to give the good news. It could wait until he’d had some rest. For now, she needed to see for herself that Daphne was all right.
She passed Maeve along the way, the maid sporting dark circles beneath her eyes as she carried an armful of pink-tinged linens to be disposed of. The poor girl likely hadn’t slept a wink, either, too worried over their mutual friend.
