Page 87 of When the Viscount Seduces
To Lazarus’s left, Nott sniffed. “That’s so lovely,” he murmured.
Lazarus smiled just as Mrs. Worsley yelled from behind him. “You will not be the ruin of my daughter!”
“Lazarus!” Gwen shrieked as she shoved him roughly.
The report of a pistol filled the hall, and Lazarus looked in horror as Gwen’s face registered shock. She grasped her right upper arm as she crumpled.
Lazarus somehow kept from falling himself—she’d pushed him very hard—and leapt toward her, catching her before she collapsed in a heap. “Gwen!”
Another shriek sounded, and Lazarus looked to see that Nott had taken the pistol from Mrs. Worsley and pointed it at her.
“There aren’t any more bullets,” she spat.
“I don’t care,” Nott said, his voice shaking. “This makes me feel better.”
There had been a footman near the door, but he’d hurried to help with Gwen. Lazarus looked at him. “Go and fetch a physician!”
“I’m fine,” Gwen said as Lazarus swept her into his arms. “It barely hurts.” Except she winced.
Lazarus glanced about for a place to take Gwen. “I need a room with a chaise or a long settee.”
“Just in here,” Miss Worsley said, leading them to a room to the left of the entrance hall. She must have arrived at some point.
“I don’t need to lie down,” Gwen said. “It’s only my arm.”
Lazarus carried Gwen to a settee and set her down carefully. She cradled her right arm with her left. Her sleeve was bright red with blood. Kneeling beside the settee, he loosened his cravat and stripped it away then gently wrapped it around her arm.
“We need to hold this against the wound,” he said softly, clasping her arm and feeling the warmth of her blood against his palm as it seeped through the cravat.
“Fetch water and bandages,” Miss Worsley said to someone. “Mother, come in here.”
A moment later, Mrs. Worsley staggered into the sitting room, her face ashen. Nott followed, still pointing the empty pistol at her.
“Sit,” Miss Worsley snapped at her mother.
The woman did as she was told, which Lazarus found surprising. “How could you bloody shoot my betrothed?” Lazarus roared.
“I was trying to shootyou,” Mrs. Worsley mumbled.
“Mama!” Miss Worsley’s shoulders began to shake as soft sobs fell from her lips. “How could you do that?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Of course you did,” Gwen said, flinching as she settled herself against the back of the settee.
“I’m so sorry this happened,” Lazarus said, pressing a kiss to Gwen’s temple. “What were you thinking pushing me out of the way?”
“I was thinking I still wanted to marry you, not bury you. If you hadn’t moved, her bullet would have hit you square in the back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you,” Gwen said darkly. Her features softened, and he thought she might cry. “I couldn’t lose you.”
“Nor can I lose you.” Lazarus brushed his lips over hers. He turned his attention back to Mrs. Worsley. “Why would you shoot at me?”
“Because you refused to marry Melissa. Shemustwed.”
“Then wed her to Tremblay,” Lazarus bit out.
