Page 99 of If Not for the Duke

“Give it up, Winslow,” Sterling demanded, using his weight to keep him in place.

“No!” The desperation in his tone had Sterling stiffening. Then the weapon discharged, sending a muffled blast into the quiet night.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“No!” Lena’s heartstopped. She was sure of it.

Though Sterling had told her to run, there was nothing that could’ve forced her from his side. With the blast of the gun still ringing in her ears, she gasped as the two forms on the ground stilled.

“Sterling?” She rushed forward, terrified even as she prayed he wasn’t hurt.

A third figure—Worley—knelt beside them. “Renwick?”

A moan filled the air and one of the men moved.

“Yes.” Though Lena was thrilled to hear Sterling’s voice, he sounded odd.

“Lena, find some light,” Worley requested.

“Of course.” Before she could rise, several people filed onto the terrace, bringing torches with them.

“What’s going on here?” Lord Willingham asked, holding a light aloft. “I thought I heard a gun discharge.”

“You did, my lord,” Lena affirmed. “Winslow threatened me with a pistol. Renwick and Worley saved me.” Her voice trembled as she shared the news, but her focus remained fastened on the men on the ground, both in dark suits, making it impossible to discern who was whom or which one was hurt.

More light flooded the terrace, along with additional guests. Gasps, murmurs, and cries of fright filled the night air as the crowd realized someone might have been shot.

To her relief, Sterling sat up and then glanced at the still form beside him.

Worley placed a hand on Sterling’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” Then he pulled his hand away to stare at it, blood glistening in the light. “You’re not all right.”

A lady screamed at the sight of the blood, causing Lena’s heart to pound even harder.

“A flesh wound, I think. Winslow managed to pull the trigger before I could get the pistol away from him.” Sterling moved his shoulder as if to prove it wasn’t serious despite the blood on his suit coat. He handed Worley the weapon, and the crowd’s murmurs grew louder.

Worley took it with a shake of his head, then glanced behind him and gave it to Vanbridge.

“Lena?” Her brother-in-law stared at the gun then at her, eyes wide. “You’re unhurt?”

“I’m fine.” Well aware of the onlookers who stared in shock, she watched Worley assist Sterling to stand, while two other men tended an unmoving Winslow.

“I believe he struck his head when we were struggling,” Sterling said.

“Send for the police and the doctor,” Willingham ordered one of the footmen who stood nearby.

Winslow stirred, moaning, then was hauled to his feet He didn’t look at any of them as he was led to a nearby stone bench but hung his head, whether in pain or defeat, Lena didn’t know.

She turned from the man and drew closer to Sterling, wishing she could tell how badly he was hurt. The torn fabric of his suit coat and the blood made it impossible to think clearly. “You could’ve been killed.”

“But I wasn’t. All is well.” Sterling took her hand, seeming to ignore the people watching them. “You’re unharmed?”

“Yes. I—”

“Sterling?” Bernie’s frantic tone as she forced through the crowd, with Mrs. Easton and Lady Havenby behind her, had both turning to face her.

“I’m fine, Bernie,” Sterling reassured her.

“Winslow?” She looked about, pressing a hand to her mouth as she saw him on the nearby bench.

---