Page 88 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
“Bids?”the Duque’s lip curled.He reached for the canvas and she yanked it away.
“It is mine.”He growled and raised his blade.She stumbled, the blade whizzed, and the pistol exploded, knocking her back into a hard chest.
The Duque howled, oaths pouring from him.A deep burn flared in her shoulder and gunpowder filled her nose.
Had she somehow shot herself?Vision clouding, she wilted, and her feet gave completely away.
“Jane.”
Panic flared in him.Not Jane.
Shaldon caught her against him as she sank to the ground, ignoring the bustle of action around him as others rushed in.
A spot was growing in the dark shoulder of her pelisse, a spot darker than the brown she’d so prudently worn.Like him, she’d dressed for battle, the foolish, brave, dear girl.
“Russell,” he yelled.
“Here, my lord.”
He gathered her and started to lift, but pain tore at his own shoulder.
“Let me, Father.”
That voice was Bakeley’s.
“I can walk,” Jane said, and she proved it by getting to her feet.“Am I shot?”
“No,” he said.“I do believe the ball hit the Duque.”
The Duque’s surgeon and servant supported the fat lout as he settled onto the nearby ground, swearing.
She gripped his hand, her breath feathering his ear.“No.Have I k-killed him?”
“Not the way he’s caterwauling,” Kincaid said.
“His foot seems to be bleeding, my lady,” Bakeley said.
Jane’s good arm found his own uninjured one, and they wobbled together.
Someone had laid out a quilt, and Russell was opening his case, the maid at his elbow, and behind her, MacEwen.
The clatter of horses drew Bakeley away.The guard had arrived.
Jane watched them dismount, clutching his arm.“Will they arrest us?”
His heart swelled, wiping out the throbbing in his various wounds.Us, she’d said.She was in this with him, though he doubted she’d thank him much if they ended up facing a magistrate together.
He helped her to the ground and pulled the string on her bonnet, wrenching it out of the way.“They’ll be looking for the duel between Quentin Penderbrook and Major Payne-Elsdon, and neither of them are here.This was a mere bit of sword practice between two old survivors of the wars in the Peninsula.”
“They will have heard the pistol shot.”She gripped his hand.“What will I say?”
“You won’t have to talk to them.I’ll see to it.”
Russell handed the maid a pair of shears and she nudged in between them and began cutting away the shoulder of Jane’s gown.
“Let’s have a look at you, my lord.”Shaldon let the surgeon rip away his black shirt, wincing as the man probed, watching as Jane’s wound was revealed.A gash ran across the top of her arm.
“Take care of her first,” Shaldon said.
