Page 32 of In Need of a Duke
He pushed back from the wall and marched over to the bed. Blood seeped into the sheets now, stretching out toward him.
“Someone, help,” he whispered, staring. He froze, couldn’t swallow, could hardly breathe.
He was losing her.
She would bleed out in front of him.
He would never see her beautiful eyes again, never hear her laugh, never feel her touch.
“Come wait out in the hall, Your Grace,” Mrs. Canfield said, trying to steer him away. “We will watch over her?—”
“I can’t leave her.” He gently shook off his housekeeper’s touch, pushing toward his bed. The bed he and Charlotte had intended to share as husband and wife.
The same bed she lay in now, dying.
“Why are you here?”Ian asked.
Nathaniel rushed in with Monty close on his heels. With one look, Nathaniel charged Ian, throwing a fist into his left jaw, nearing toppling him over.
“I told you not to hurt her!” Nathaniel yelled, trying to hit Ian again as Monty pushed between the brothers.
“Stop, stop now.”
“What did you do to her?”
Ian shook off Monty’s touch, furious. He wiped his throbbing lip, furious that Nathaniel landed a punch. “I didn’t do anything. She tried jumping the wall?—”
“It needed to be repaired,” Nathaniel said, shutting his eyes and tossing his head up toward the ceiling. “I told her not to jump that wall.”
Guilt sank in Ian’s stomach. She wouldn’t have attempted it if it hadn’t been for him. If he hadn’t arrived, if he hadn’t confronted her.
If, if, if…
“You left for London,” Ian said, his hands on his hips. “Why are you here?”
“We stopped at the tavern in the village,” Monty answered, “So we hadn’t made it far when we saw the stable hand race by on horseback, shouting Stonehurst needed a surgeon. I thought it best to circle back.”
Nathaniel reeked of alcohol. The very smell of it turned Ian’s stomach. “You will only get in the way. I don’t need you here.”
“I’ll punch you again, Brother, but it will only waste our time. For now, let’s agree to focus on Charlotte. I will see if there is anything else that needs to be done. You’re welcome to stay here and wear a hole in the hallway while you wait for the surgeon.”
The surgeon arrived nearly thirty minutes later and examined Charlotte.
Ian paced the hallway outside of his bedchamber. He would stop now and again to listen, waiting for the doctor to finish his examination of Charlotte. He had scrubbed his hands, but still they were stained. Her blood hid beneath his fingernails, reminding him he had failed her.
The door cracked open, and the doctor emerged, clutching his bag in his hand. “Your Grace, I will be back tomorrow morning, but the duchess is seriously injured. She dislocated her shoulder, bruised several ribs, and suffered from a significant head injury. I’m not certain if she will regain consciousness.”
“You are not certain?” Ian growled.
“Listen to the doctor,” Nathaniel said, clapping a hand over Ian’s shoulder. He shook off the touch, certain it stung. He didn’t want to be touched. He wanted Charlotte to wake up.
“It will be of the utmost importance that she is monitored closely. Ihave cleaned and bandaged her wounds, but there is still a risk of a fever.”
Ian shook his head, placing his hands on his hips and hanging his head. “No. She will overcome this. I am certain of it. I will send for nurses to come and help with her care. I will…”
Nathaniel approached again. “You can do everything, and we may still lose her. Let’s see how she is in the morning.”
Lose her?
