Page 85 of The Moonstone Pirate
“I’ll be all right. Good boy.” Draco gave him a scratch behind his ears.
By this time, the constable had returned on horseback along with several of his men. “Take care of yourself, my lord. Get that wound treated right away. We’ll do our best to find that villain.”
Draco watched them ride off, Parrot in the lead.
He would do a bit of investigating himself as soon as Dr. Hewitt sewed him up. If his assailant had ever stayed at the Kestrel Inn, the curious stable groom, Matchett, would recognize the fine bit of horseflesh left in his care and hopefully be able to identify the owner.
He returned to Imogen, worried he might have inadvertently hurt her when pushing her down and covering her with his body. He was a big man. Had he crushed her? “Imogen, are you certain you are all right?”
“Yes.” But she was breathing heavily and holding her hand protectively. “Don’t worry about me. Why did you not ride out with Constable Angel? Deandra and I will see our own way home.”
“Not on your life. I am not leaving you alone for a moment. That shot might have been meant for you.”
“That is absurd. Who would want to harm me? He must have been aiming for you, Draco. Why are you letting him get away?”
“The constable and his men are on his trail. Parrot’s with them. He’ll find whoever did this fiendish deed.” He made the general announcement so that everyone in the tea shop would hear and hopefully be calmed. Several ladies were still crying. Fortunately, the flying glass had missed all of them, except forImogen, who would have gotten the worst of it had he not sheltered her with his body. The incident was upsetting for everyone.
All his fault. He’d brought these villains to this idyllic place. That it was under orders of the Crown did not make him feel any better about it.
Imogen frowned. “You sent Parrot off with the constables and did not go with them? This isn’t like you, Draco. Why are you weaving as though you’re… Oh, my heavens! He shot you! Why did you tell Constable Angel you were fine? Stubborn man. Mrs. Halsey, summon the doctor!”
Draco countermanded the order. “There’s nothing the doctor can do in a tea shop. I’ll walk to the army hospital.”
“Walk? Are you mad?” Imogen stopped him before he took a step. “Sit down, you stubborn man. You won’t make it down the high street before falling flat on your face. Mr. Halsey, bring your wagon around.”
“At once, Lady Imogen.”
Deandra began to cry as she looked on helplessly. “You were shot? Why did you not tell us?”
“I’ll be all right, Deandra.” Draco gave silent thanks he had sent her away from their table in order to allow him time to speak privately with Imogen. If not for that, she might have been hurt too.
Imogen, to his surprise, remained composed and diligently attended to him, though there was not much she could do beyond removing his jacket and trying to stanch the flow of blood. She held a handkerchief pressed to his wound, and was trying to instruct Deandra to tie her own handkerchief tightly over hers, but his cousin was crying harder now and not listening. “Never mind about her, Imogen,” he said. “Just take my handkerchief and tie it as best as you can. Let Mrs. Halsey’s daughter calm Deandra.”
“All right.” Imogen began to nibble her lip. “I think the shot went clean through the fleshy part of your arm, Draco. That is good news, but it did leave a nasty gash. Does it hurt terribly?”
“No, Butterfly,” he lied. “It just went through soft flesh.”
“Nothing soft about you, Draco. You are a wall of hard muscle,” she muttered.
He grinned. “Like what you see?”
She frowned at him. “All I see is blood and poor Deandra still in uncontrollable tears.”
“Sorry. Guess I should not be making jests, considering what just happened. I’ll hold the handkerchief in place. See to my cousin.”
Deandra had worked herself into a state bordering on hysteria, but if anyone could calm the girl, it would be Imogen.
He listened as she tried everything she could to assure Deandra of his recovery. “Draco will be fine,” she said. “I have seen these types of injuries in the hospital wards. It is not life threatening. The soldiers all heal, and there is no reason Draco will be any different. Truly, Deandra. Many have suffered much worse injuries and fully recovered.”
“Are you sure?” Deandra sniffled.
“Yes. I have volunteered there ever since the hospital opened. I know what I am talking about. Do you see me crying?”
“No,” his cousin weakly admitted. “But you are stronger than me, and he isn’t your own blood family, Imogen. It isn’t the same.” She resumed her wailing, but it sounded forced, like she were a child who’d forgotten the reason why she started crying in the first place.
Draco hoped his cousin would settle down soon. There was already enough mayhem swirling around them, and he did not need her adding to the chaos.
Imogen whispered something in Deandra’s ear.
