Page 109 of Marigold and the Marquess
Not a minute later, the magistrate and several of his constables arrived.
Ian showed up on their heels. “You’ve been busy, Leo. I heard you were back. Before you ask who told me, I am not at liberty to reveal my sources.” He glanced at Cummings’ body still lying on the street at the spot where Mallow had taken him down. “What happened here?”
“This is what we would like to know,” John Farthingale muttered.
“Leo did not kill him.” Marigold stepped protectively in front of him, although he certainly did not need protecting now that Cummings was dead. In any event, he did not need his soft, but extremely stubborn wife, getting between him and danger. “Uncle George has opened an infirmary in our home, which is a good thing because Leo has been shot and Mallow has a cut on his leg.”
She motioned for everyone to follow them in. “I’ll have Cook put the kettle on for tea and set out some cakes for us. Please make yourselves comfortable in the parlor. We won’t be long, but Uncle George must tend to Leo first.”
She carried Mallow to the stairs and frowned at Leo when he did not immediately follow her.
“Right, I’m coming.” He raked a hand across the nape of his neck. “Ian, do you mind waiting a few minutes for my report?”
“I don’t think I have a choice. You had better listen to your wife. We’ll be fine. We’re all family anyway. I’ll grab a glass of your finest brandy. John, care for one?”
“Why not?” he muttered. “Thank goodness we’re running out of Farthingale nieces to sponsor.”
Sophie laughed. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll have more descend on us. Admit it, John. You would die of boredom, otherwise.”
“My dear, I shall survive quite happily without crazed killers terrorizing our street. In fact, I long for the day when it shall be just the two of us in that big, sprawling house.”
“Don’t forget, we still have Hortensia.”
John sighed. “Ah, yes. Ian, I’ll need that drink.”
As the others followed John into the parlor, Leo and Marigold went upstairs to Leo’s bedchamber. Mallow was still curled in Marigold’s arms, quite content to remain there all evening.
Ethan bustled in. “My lord, let me help you off with your clothes.”
“Just my shirt, Ethan. No time for another bath this evening. Everyone’s waiting downstairs for my report.” Once his shirt was off, he sank onto the stool by his hearth with an aching groan. “Bring me fresh water and several cloths.”
No metal had lodged in his shoulder, thankfully. It was just a graze, but that hot metal had done a job of tearing up his flesh. Marigold looked on, nibbling her lip as she fretted. “Leo, what can I do to help?”
“Nothing, love. Just stand beside me. I need to look at you and know you are all right.”
She nodded. “I am fine.”
Leo would have preferred Marigold’s sweet hands on him, but she was still holding Mallow and he did not have the heart to deprive the little fellow of the comfort of her arms. When Ethan brought him the ewer now filled with clean water, Leo poured it into its accompanying basin, then took one of the cloths and stuck it in the water to thoroughly wet it. He then began to delicately wipe the blood away. “Ethan, fetch me a bottle of brandy. Not my best, this isn’t for drinking.”
“Right away, my lord.” He ran downstairs, leaving Leo alone with Marigold once more.
“How are you holding up, love?” Now that he had removed his shirt, she was taking in his scarred back and bloodied shoulder. He feared her soft heart had reached the limit of what it could handle.
“Not very well, if you must know,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I cannot bear to see you hurt.”
“This looks worse than it is. My worry was for your injuries.”
“Mine?” Her eyes rounded in surprise. “I wasn’t hurt at all.”
“You fired my rifle. That must have bruised your shoulder.” He continued to wipe away the blood from his own shoulder as he spoke.
“Oh, that.” She nodded. “A little bruise. I hardly feel it. Oh, Leo! He might have killed you tonight! The fiend, lurking around our home, hurting everyone who got in his way while hoping for a chance at you.”
He stared at her. “Marigold, he did not know I had returned to London. He was coming for you.”
Her face drained of color and she sank onto a chair beside him.
In all this time, had she not realized?
