Chapter Twenty-Two
“Lizzie!” Hawk gripped her body as she fell against him. He immediately scooped her into his arms and rushed into the house. “Mother!”
Lady Hawkins jumped up from her seat. “Whatever is the matter?”
“I believe Lizzie has been shot.”
His mother sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with her hand. “Good heavens!” She shook her head and waved toward the sofa in front of the fireplace. “Lay her there so we can see how serious the wound is.”
Hawk placed Lizzie gently on the sofa. She was pale and unconscious, and a fine sheet of sweat beaded her upper lip. His stomach muscles tightened as he carefully rolled her to one side. A small hole in the flesh of her upper arm oozed blood. “It doesn’t look serious. I’m going after whoever it was who fired the shot. Take care of her and send for the physician.”
He bolted from the room through the patio doors. The chance of him catching the culprit was slight since he had enough time to make an escape, but he must try. The scant moonlight provided enough light for him to search the garden. As expected, the perpetrator was long gone. He followed fresh footsteps in the damp earth as he made his way to the front of the Manor.
Squatting, he fingered marks on the pebbled pathway leading to the house that indicated a horse had recently ridden away. He dusted his hands off and stood, turning in a circle to view the expanse, holding still to listen for any sound. Nothing. Frustrated, he strode to the front door just as one of the footmen was leaving. “I am going for the physician, my lord.”
“Yes, take a carriage to bring him here, it will be much quicker.” Hawk returned to the library, where Lizzie remained pale and unconscious. His mother dabbed at the wound with a cloth.
He turned to Honora, standing very still as she studied her mother, her face as pale as Lizzie. “I will take her upstairs to her bedchamber. Please have one of the maids meet us upstairs so she can undress her to prepare her for the doctor’s visit.” When Honora remained fixed in one position, he barked, “Now.”
“Yes. Of course.” Honora made a quick escape as Hawk picked Lizzie up, careful not to jiggle her. She moaned, and her eyes fluttered open. Thank God she was awake. Although she would now feel the pain, at least he didn’t have to worry about her not awakening.
“What happened?” Lizzie’s voice was soft and strained. “My arm hurts like the devil.”
“Hush, sweetheart. You were shot. The doctor is on his way, and a maid will assist you to remove your clothes.”
“Shot?” She turned her face into his chest. “Our man is determined, is he not?”
He frowned at that somber comment, and he carried her upstairs, his mother in front of them carrying a candelabra. When they arrived at her bedchamber, Honora and a maid awaited them, the bedcovers already turned down. Hawk eased Lizzie onto the bed and stepped back, studying her. Her eyes remained closed, but the slight flickering behind her eyelids told him she was awake.
There had not been enough time between the attack at the inn and this attempt for their culprit to learn that the inn attack had been thwarted. The assumption remained that the man behind all of this had sent more than one person out, covering both Wycliff’s home and Hawkins Manor.
It followed that there was someone watching his London townhouse, as well. The plan to hide at Cam’s house was a good one. As soon as Lizzie was able to travel, they would head to London and get to the bottom of this mess.
“I will leave you to prepare for the doctor.” He turned on his heel and left the room. He was falling short on his promise to keep her safe.
That did not sit well with him.
Memories of Monica came back to taunt him with how ineffectively he’d protected his sister. He would not allow anything to happen to Lizzie. He would not have another woman’s death on his conscience.
He headed to the library and poured a snifter of brandy. When they departed for London he would bring several outriders with him and push to make it a one-day trip. They would go straight to his townhouse, and then immediately he and Lizzie would go out the back door and meet another—unmarked—coach to take them to Cam’s house.
The situation was becoming nasty. There was a very nervous person who was desperate to find the evidence before they did. He wandered the library, sipping on his drink and planning. He turned as one of the newer footmen, whom Hawk wasn’t familiar with, entered the library. “My lord, the physician has arrived.”
“Thank you.” He downed the last of the brandy and headed to the front door. He nodded at the man standing in the foyer holding a satchel. “Thank you for coming so quickly, doctor. If you will follow me, I will take you to my betrothed, who is in need of your services.”
“Yes. May I ask the nature of her ladyship’s illness?”
“No illness. She has been shot.”
The doctor frowned and followed Hawk up the stairs.
Hawk knocked lightly and opened the door at Honora’s summons. Lizzie lay in the bed in her nightgown, the covers drawn up to her neck. His mother hovered over her, fluttering, looking distraught. Lizzie turned toward him when he stepped into the room.
“How do you feel, my dear?”
She held out her uninjured arm, and he moved toward her. She took his hand and tugged him down, speaking softly. “I am very frightened. Whoever this is knows exactly where we are. How can he do that?”
Hawk brushed back the curls from her forehead. “I believe two men were sent to find you. One to Wycliff where he knew you were, and one here, in case I brought you to my home.”
“But you were told to bring me to London.”
“Our culprit has decided to allow for all contingencies.”
Lizzie’s eyes grew wide. “That means someone will be at your townhouse as well.”
He hated the tears that welled in her eyes. “Do not fret. I assumed as much and have that covered. Now I want you to do what the doctor tells you, so we can be on the road as soon as possible.” He kissed her hand and stepped back, gesturing to the doctor. “I will be downstairs awaiting your report.”
He’d slipped up once again, not considering someone would be here since he’d been ordered to bring Lizzie to London. The fiend had been one step ahead of him, and that didn’t sit well. Never again would anyone harm his betrothed. It mattered not what he needed to do. He had Cam, and if necessary, he could drag Bedford and Templeton into it. The four of them had brought down Loverly; now the four of them would protect his daughter.
…
Lizzie watched Hawk’s retreating back and turned her attention to the doctor. The throbbing in her arm had increased with Honora and the maid shifting her around to get her out of her dress and into her nightgown.
“I am going to have to roll you to your side to look at your injury. I understand you were shot?” The doctor shook his head. “One wonders what is going on in this world. Most likely someone target-practicing while in his cups.”
Lizzie did not dispute the doctor’s assessment of what happened, since she was certain it was the man who wanted her dead. How she wanted her nice, peaceful life back! Once she’d escaped London and began her employment at Lord and Lady Wycliff’s home, she had breathed a sigh of relief that had lasted until Lord Hawkins had arrived.
Not that it was his doing that she’d been discovered and ordered to return to the Home Office for questioning. At least she had him on her side, now.
“Move closer with that candelabra,” the doctor barked at Lady Hawkins. Apparently, doctors were not moved by honor and rank.
She winced as the doctor prodded her wound. “Unfortunately, the bullet did not pass through, so I will need to remove it. It didn’t go too far into your arm, though,” he added, seeing her panicked look. He straightened up and turned to the maid. “Please bring me hot water and as many clean cloths as you can find.”
The maid scurried off as Honora approached the bed. “Do you think it might go better if Hawk is here with you, Lizzie?”
“Yes. I think so.” She hated the sound of her shaky voice, and she was no coward, but having a bullet dug out of her arm was not something she did every day. In some ways it bothered her that she depended on him to provide her with the strength necessary to face the ordeal. However, she excused her weakness—she’d been through a lot in a short period of time.
On another note, it was probably not proper to have him here in her bedchamber while she was in nothing more than her nightgown, but propriety be damned. She needed him.
Lady Hawkins placed the candelabra on the table next to her bed. Twisting her hands, she looked down at Lizzie. “I will wait downstairs, my dear. I’m afraid I’m not very good with these things. I will have Cook prepare some tea.” The poor woman made her escape as if a stiff wind pushed her from behind.
Within minutes of her departure, Hawk strode through the door and came right to her bedside. He went down on one knee and took her hand, kissing her knuckles. “I’m here, sweeting. It might help you to know I’ve been through this myself.”
The maid followed with a pile of cloths. Next to her was a footman with a bucket of steaming water. “Where do you want this, doctor?”
Busy taking out frightening-looking implements from his satchel and placing them on the bed next to her, he spoke over his shoulder. “Put the water next to me here and the cloths on the bed.”
Hawk walked to the other side of the bed and after removing his boots, climbed in next to her. “I don’t care if this is improper, I will be beside you during this, Lizzie.”
Instead of protesting, she was grateful for his company. The warmth from his body and the slight scent of spice and leather washed over her, comforting her more than any dose of laudanum had ever done.
The doctor looked up from his work. “I am ready, my lady. This might hurt, so please be brave.”
Lizzie nodded, and Hawk took her hand. “Squeeze my hand as hard as you have to. You will not break it, I assure you.”
As the doctor began to dig into her arm with the long forceps, she squeezed Hawk’s hand, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out all over her body. She whimpered and gritted her teeth, and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Breathe, Lizzie.”
Not realizing she was holding her breath, she let out a gasp of air.
After a few agonizing minutes, the doctor said, “I’m almost finished, my lady. It’s not deep.”
Lizzie nodded. Not long after he spoke, she heard a sucking sound and cried out as the doctor held up his forceps. “I got it.” The man looked as proud as if he’d just delivered a babe.
“Thank God.” She turned her face toward Hawk. She hadn’t realized it, but he’d been brushing her hair back the entire time.
“Are you well, sweetheart?”
She nodded, not sure if her voice would work.
The doctor dropped the bullet into a small pan. “I will clean up the wound and stitch it. Then I’ll leave you with some laudanum. That will bring on a peaceful night’s sleep.”
Lizzie nodded and closed her eyes, one lone tear tracking down her cheek. As hard as she tried to push away self-pity, it presented itself front and center. For as much as she’d been through, she still had overwhelming difficulties to face before she could return to some sort of comfortable life.
If she wasn’t dead or imprisoned before that life presented itself.