A Marquess for Christmas (3 page)

It
seemed to work though, for she could feel him bracing his weight on her as he
struggled to stand. Together, they stumbled their way to the curricle. Her
driver had finally made it up the road. His eyes widened when he saw the bloody
and beaten gentleman in her arms.

“My
lady!”

“
Hinkley
, help me!”

The
driver rushed forward to help her, taking brunt of the gentleman’s weight as
they carried him to the carriage.

“What
the hell happened?”

Violet
gave him a pointed look, but she chose not to reprimand him for his foul
language. It
had
been one hell of an
afternoon.

“Begging
forgiveness, ma’am.”

Together
they hoisted the gentleman into the seat and made sure he was still conscious.

“As
soon as we make it home, you are to go and fetch Dr. Littleton at once.”

“Yes,
my lady.”

Violet
looked at the gentleman, whose name she still did not know, and prayed to God
that he would survive this night. Fearing he might slip away at any moment, she
gripped his hand tightly.

He
looked too pained to speak, so she refrained from saying anything more than
necessary. But her hand held fast to his and his pulse throbbed, assuring her
that for now, at least, he was alive.

* * * *

Kit
had been on the long road toward Yorkshire when he’d come upon thieves
threatening a lady. He’d managed to take down one man, but the other had stolen
the carriage before he could reload his pistol.

 
In all his life, he had never seen a woman
such as this one. She fought off thieves armed with only a basket, and she’d
pushed a man out of a moving carriage. Her dress, speech, and the well-kept
horses identified her as a lady, but she was totally unlike the meek and demure
young misses who followed him around town. Girls like that eventually ran from
him because he was no gentleman.

He
boxed, he gambled, he kept the company of courtesans. He was worse than a rake.
Yet he could not stand the thought of that wretch robbing and raping a woman in
the middle of the road. The man was after money, but who would pass up such a
beauty?

So
he’d jumped in to save her.

Now
they were scrambling on the ground, kicking and gouging and punching one
another. The man was little, but wiry, and his fists were thick.

Kit
let loose the rage burning inside him. The rage against the injustice of his
life, the rage against his family, the rage against this idiot who would dare
to assault a lady.

It
didn’t matter that his body ached and he was sure he’d come away battered
purple and blue. It didn’t matter that the battle with his family was futile.
What mattered was that in this moment, he could choose to fight, he could be
his own man, and he could protect this woman from a fate she should never know.

Kit
slammed his fist into the other man’s jaw even as his enemy scored his nails
down his back, slicing the skin. Shifting his weight onto the other man, he
sent them rolling again, which forced the thief to release his grip on Kit’s
back.

They’d
been on the ground for what seemed like hours, though it was likely only
minutes. Kit needed to get to his gun or this battle would keep going until one
of them passed out.

To
his surprise, the man loosened his left arm, giving Kit the freedom to reach
over for the gun, which had fallen to the ground in the scuffle. The muscles in
his abdomen burned as he stretched his arm as far as he could. The handle was
so close. He leaned left as his assailant pressed right.

Which
one of them would make it first?

Kit’s
fingers scraped the gun as the woman screamed. The thief lifted up, holding a
large rock in his hand. Kit cocked the hammer and fired as the rock smashed
into his head. Searing pain blinded him. His skull felt torn asunder.

The
other man fell backward and Kit rolled, huddling in agony. Amidst the loud
pounding in his ears, he could hear the voice of the woman. She wanted him to
move.

“Damnation.”
His chest burned. A fragment of the bullet must have hit him in the chest or perhaps
he’d broken a rib. She tried to lift him, but she wasn’t strong enough to carry
him. Dimly, he could smell the scent of lavender in her thick, black hair,
which had come loose during the ordeal.

Her
warm body cushioned his and all he could think of was how awful his luck was
that he should be this close to her, but be unable to do anything about it.

He
did his best to walk to her carriage, but he would’ve collapsed if her driver
hadn’t come to help.

Incoherent
moans were the only sounds he could make as the pain overtook him again.
Christ, what a hellish day
. And if the
pain was any indication, it was only going to get worse.

He
tried to lift his shirt to his head to stop the bleeding, but he could barely
move. When he opened his mouth, no words came out. Just more incoherencies. She
took his hand firmly in hers and he held on to it as if it would save him from
the blackness he knew was coming.

His
eyelids were heavy and other than her hand on his, his entire body felt as if
it were burning in the everlasting flames of hell. The devil called to him,
demanding his due.

Chapter Two

His
grip on her hand faltered and Violet knew she was losing him. She slapped his
hand, hoping that would alert him. He did not move. But they were close to home
now.

“
Hinkley
, hurry!”

Gently,
Violet slapped the man’s face. She couldn’t let him fall asleep. If he did, she
worried he might not wake up.

He
coughed, but did not open his eyes. Well, that was something, at least.

“We
are almost home, sir.”

Slowly,
he lifted his lids and she could see his dark eyes. Their gazes held and she
became very aware of the fact that her lips were inches from his and she could
feel the heat of his leg against hers. She didn’t even know his name.

“You
must try to stay awake for me,” she told him.

“Sleep.
Good,” he mumbled.

“No.
You must stay awake until the doctor comes.”

She
was tempted to stroke his face. Even though his skin paled and blood ran down
his temples, he was a striking man. Who was he? Did he have a wife? Violet bit
her lip. That was a foolish thought considering he was wounded and likely to
die if she couldn’t get a physician soon.

What
if he didn’t survive the night? She’d be responsible for his death. If she’d
left before dusk or if they’d had a pistol, perhaps this whole mess might have
been avoided.

But
then she wouldn’t have met him. Why that should matter, she wasn’t sure. Maybe
she was feeling particularly sensitive after her ordeal. It wasn’t every day
that a woman was rescued from bandits by a handsome gentleman. Naturally, she
would feel some affinity for her savior.

They
rounded a curve lined with birch trees.
Almost
there
. In the distance, she could see the stone manor peeking above the
copse. They were home—now the question was how quickly could they get
help? She squeezed her companion’s arm, pressing firmly.

“We
are nearly at
Welbury
Park, sir. You will stay the
night here while we assess your injuries and get help.”

A
soft grunt was the only response. At least he was awake.

“Can
you tell me your name?” she asked. “Should I send for your family?”

His
eyes widened for a moment and he shook his head as he muttered unintelligibly.
There was plenty of time to find out his identity later. What mattered was
keeping him alive.

“We
will worry about that tomorrow,” she said. “For now, you are safe and we will
get you upstairs as quickly as possible.”

The
carriage came to a stop and two of the footman came out to assist her. “We need
help. Get the others.”

She’d
barely checked the injured man’s forehead when four men rushed out to the
carriage. “Adam, I need you to see to the gentleman’s horse while
Hinkley
goes to the village and fetch the doctor. The rest
of you help us get into the house.”

Her
men took him by the arms and braced him as they walked into the house. He
stumbled at the stairs, but managed to get inside. She wasn’t sure if they
should carry him, but she preferred to spare him that indignity. When her
husband had caught a terrible fever a few years ago, he’d hated to be coddled.
It had been a battle most of the time to get him to stay in bed.

“Take
him to one of the guest rooms upstairs. Be careful not to press on his
injuries.”

While
her footmen situated him, Violet went to find the man suitable clothes to wear.
It had been three years since she’d touched any of the trunks with her
husband’s things.

It
had pained her to see them, so she’d moved them to the nursery. She never went
into that room as it was a reminder of what she might never have. But tonight,
a man’s life teetered on a precipice and she could not afford the luxuries of
nostalgia and regret.

So
she took a deep breath and opened the door, not sure of what she’d find.
Everything was neat and tidy and the furniture looked polished. Mrs. Norris had
ensured the room was well kept, despite Violet’s neglect.

She
saw the trunks, neatly arranged behind a dressing screen and one under the
narrow bed. She opened one of the trunks on top, hoping to find a night shirt
or tunic and dressing gown.

The
scent of pine mixed with leather and something else. She lifted a jacket and
realized that it still smelled of him. Even after he’d been gone for three and
a half years, the essence of John remained, here in this room.

Looking
at his things, Violet wanted to feel hurt; she wanted to feel angry. But those
emotions were as dead as her husband. Only a hint of sadness remained. Not for
herself, but for the life John would never complete.

The
first trunk was filled with jackets, waistcoats and trousers. She opened the
next one and she was prepared when the scent of John again permeated the air. This
time she found what she was looking for. She grabbed a tunic, dressing gown,
stockings, and a few other necessaries.

As
she stepped over the threshold into the hall, Mrs. Norris spotted her. “My
lady. Do you need Miriam or Sally to go gather anything for you? I am sorry
that I did not realize you were here. We will take care of everything.”

Violet
smiled at her. Mrs. Norris and the butler knew everything about
everything
at
Welbury
Park. The housekeeper probably sought to spare her from the discomfort of going
through her husband’s belongings.

While
she could have sent a chambermaid to the nursery, Violet hadn’t even thought
about it. Her first instinct was to see to her guest’s needs. She had two able
hands and she doubted the gentleman would want her watching as they laid him in
bed and stripped his clothes.

A
blush crept up her cheek and she placed the back of her hand against her hot
skin. When was the last time she’d blushed over a man? She could barely remember.
But obviously she’d been so long without the company of a fine gentleman that
she now resorted to thinking about the first handsome stranger to come to her
rescue since John had died.

“Are
you well, Mrs. Laurens?” the housekeeper asked. “Were you injured? Do you need
me to draw up a bath or turn down your bed?”

That
only served to inflame her cheeks even more. Lord help her, she was addled in
the head. The word ‘bed’ sent her imagination galloping into dangerous
territory.

She
cleared her throat and forced herself to look Mrs. Norris in the eye. “I
suffered a fright, but I am well. It is the gentleman who needs assistance. The
doctor should be coming, but in the meantime, we’ll need some fresh water,
towels, and any clean cloths that can be used for bandages.”

“Right
away, my lady.”

Violet
carried the clothes down the hall toward several servants bustling in an out of
the guest room.

She
stopped Sally, a blonde girl in her late teens, who was tall and gaunt, despite
Mrs. Norris’ attempts to fatten her up.

“Is
the gentleman safely abed? May I enter?”

“They
took off his bloody things. The jacket and waistcoat are ruined, but I will try
to wash the rest as best I can. Avery asked me to fetch some warm water. The
gentleman is breathing and covered well enough for my lady to go in.”

Charles
Avery, the butler, was the most capable man Violet had ever met. They’d taken
him on when they’d returned from the war and though he was deemed unfit for the
service of His Majesty, he’d served her unfailingly, even after John had died.
Especially after he had died.

Violet
peeked into the room and saw a maid adjusting the pillows and blankets while
Avery cut strips of cloth, which she assumed were for bandages. The gentleman
needed a bath, but hopefully a towel bath would do.

“Does
my lady wish to stand outside and observe or does she wish to enter?” Avery
asked, not looking up, but continuing to cut bandages.

Violet
smiled as she walked inside. She wasn’t sure why she was trepidacious. They’d
been in the same situation before, both with her husband’s illness and in the
war. But something about this felt different for her.

“How
is he?” she asked. “Were you able to assess his injuries?”

“The
injury to his head is significant. His body is bruised, there is a small gash
on his torso and the doctor will need to double check that his ribs aren’t
cracked.”

“Sally
went to fetch the hot water and see to his clothes. Can I assist you with
anything?” she asked.

“If
my lady wishes, she can cut this cloth into strips as I have done. We will need
plenty of fresh bandages for his lordship.”