Page 63 of Her Duke By Accident
The saddle broke in the back, near the horse’s behind, and Lucy’s grip slipped on the reins. Periwinkle, a trained horse who would notice the slightest change in her rider, reared on her back legs. The sudden stop forced the mare to rise in the front, kicking her legs off the ground to prevent her from falling over.
Despite the maneuvers meant to reduce any injury, the broken saddle, combined with Lucy’s small frame, sent her flying off theback of the horse till she slammed into the ground. Lucy’s sharp yell rang through the air as though an animal had been shot.
“Lucy!”
Adrenaline rushed through Alicia’s veins.
As though Ginger could sense the danger, Alicia barely needed to push the horse to kick off in a run toward the girl. Alicia was already jumping off before the horse had a chance to come to a full stop, landing hard on the ground. She bundled up her skirts and fell to the grassy floor beside Lucy’s writhing figure.
Tears and dirt streamed down the girl’s pale face. “It hurts,” she moaned, forcing the words out behind gritted teeth.
“Shh, now,” Alicia cooed, pushing the wild curls out of Lucy’s face. “Stay still.”
Patches of red showed on the girl’s legs, likely where she had landed on the ground. They would probably bruise, Alicia ascertained, recognizing the color and the slight heat that radiated off them. But it was her wrist, swiftly growing a dark shade of purple, that frightened her the most.
“Lucy,” Alicia whispered.
The girl cried and writhed, trying to grab her wrist. “It hurts!”
“I know,” she said, “I know and you are going to hurt some more.”
Lucy wailed, and a few birds scattered in the distance.
“Listen, Lucy. I need you to be strong.” Alicia tucked her arms beneath the girl’s small frame, one hooking under her knees and the other under her back. “Cradle your wrist like a baby, Lucy. Cradle it when I lift you.”
“Lift?” the girl repeated in between loud sniffs. “You can’t!”
“I need to get you inside,” Alicia said, “and I can’t wait for someone.” Before she put her strength into lifting the girl, she met her eyes. “Can you trust me, Lucy? Trust that I will protect you?”
Lucy couldn’t stop the cries from falling from her lips. “Yes,” she whined, burying her face in Alicia’s neck.
Alicia breathed deeply, and stood, keeping her arms beneath the girl. She lifted her swiftly, and before she could marvel at her own inner strength, Alicia began to hurry. She could hear the horses neighing behind her, but they were the least of her concern at this point.
As they got closer to the manor, Alicia scoured the garden for Renfield. The odd-looking man rose from bushes to see Alicia moving towards the stairs.
“Renfield!” she shouted. “Renfield!”
The groundskeeper took long strides. “Your Grace!” He pointed at Lucy. “My lady?—”
“The physician, Renfield!” Alicia called out. “Run, Renfield! Run!”
Without a moment to lose, Renfield was galloping out of the gardens, his outlandishly long legs sending him soaring around the manor till he disappeared from sight.
Alicia exhaled and trudged up the stairs, feeling her adrenaline beginning to wane and the need to release Lucy grow. She plowed through the manor, passing by gasping servants and shocked gasps. On the way to Lucy’s room, Ms. Crawford appeared, and suddenly the older woman’s footsteps sounded up the stairs behind her.
In the same drawing room as before, Miss Ayles appeared in its doorway at the commotion storming up the hall.
The governess scoffed. “What on earth is going on?”
“Fetch Renfield once he has the physician,” Alicia called over her shoulder as she kept moving.
Miss Ayles followed instead. “Is Lady Lucy injured? What were you doing?”
“Not now, Miss Ayles!”
“What kind of supervision is this?” the governess continued, practically yelling to be heard over the racket. “And look at you, the Duchess of Garvey,carryinga girl of four-and-ten! Once the duke hears of this?—”
Alicia slammed her foot against the floor before she turned to meet the governess’s gaze. Miss Ayles looked surprised, and a flash of fear rushed against her face before she turned sour once more.
