The Wrong Woman (15 page)

“Don't you see that this is your punishment? Though I had wanted her sister, your betrothed, Isobel Masters has worked out quite nicely. You care about her. So she is the perfect leverage to keep you here and under my thumb for as long as I want.”

Miles fell silent. Isobel understood that he had finally realized there could be no negotiating with Davenport. Something else would have to happen. That something else would be very dangerous for both of them. Davenport would not give up easily. But neither would she.

She was pressed close enough to his body, had been that way for such a long time, that she had begun to recognize his movements. Even as they remained silent, Isobel could feel the decision coming to Davenport. He was bracing for something. And Isobel feared it would be bad. She must take some action.

“Please.” Miles took another step forward.

She felt Davenport go rigid. His arm tightened around her neck.

The panic rose up in her throat. She wanted to call out, tell him to run.

Miles took another step. Davenport leveled the gun at his chest.

Please
, Isobel thought.
Stop moving. Stop
.

I love him.
The words came easily. She felt calm. Somewhere between the torment of her nickname and the kiss that had heated her tonight, her mind had changed completely about this man. And now he was in danger because of her stupidity.

In a swift motion, Isobel pushed her hands back against Davenport and ran forward as hard as she could. She had enough momentum to break free of his hold. For a blissful moment she saw only Miles in front of her. She was almost free.

A shot rang out.

The world around her went black.

Chapter 19

Miles could hear nothing but a high-pitched ringing in his head. The world narrowed to that horrible sound. He must make it stop soon or his skull would explode.

Miles inhaled deeply. His lungs had forgotten how to function. He could feel damp earth packed hard beneath his knees. They were beginning to ache with the pressure. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to clear away the blackness.

Another painful expansion of his lungs brought no relief. Through the ringing, Miles thought he heard shouting. He tried to remember where he was and what was happening.

He gathered enough strength to sit back on his feet. The shift in position jostled something loose in his brain and the last hour came rushing back to him. The memory nearly knocked him down again. Isobel. Where was she? Panic caught at Miles’ heart.

“Miles!” A male voice called out in alarm. Jack. He must surely have heard the gunshot and come running.

Miles swallowed, trying to wet his dry mouth and croaked out, “Jack! Here!”

“Miles! Are you hurt?”

“Just stunned, I think. I’m having trouble standing at the moment.”

“Not shot?”

“Not that I can feel right now. What's happening?” Miles tried to rise, but his limbs wouldn’t work.

“Davenport got off a shot just after Isobel pushed away from him. I could see enough to shoot before he got off another one. I nicked him in the leg. He’s not seriously injured, but I've got him restrained now.”

Miles could see Jack standing where Davenport had been before it had all gone wrong.

“Cowards! Just kill me and have done!” Davenport screamed from the ground.

“Shove something in his mouth, Jack. I don’t want to hear that bastard speak anymore.”

“Gladly.”

Miles was still sitting back on his heels, too weak with shock to rise. Jack was all right. And so was he. But fear pinched at his gut.

“Jack, where’s Isobel?”

His brother paused before he answered in subdued tones. “I think she fell, Miles.”

“Fell?” Miles gasped, his lungs refusing to work again. “No!” It was all he could say as he crawled to where he’d last seen her. “Isobel?” She wasn’t answering. He tried to swallow back the panic. In the dim light he could make out an unmoving figure on the ground.

“Isobel? Isobel? Can you hear me?” Miles pleaded.

No answer.
Please, God, no
, he prayed.
No. No. Say something.

His hand brushed something soft and silky. Miles grabbed at it and felt soft flesh and fabric beneath his fingers. But it didn't move. Something was very wrong.
No. No. No.

Still unable to see clearly, Miles groped his way toward one end of the body. It was certainly Isobel. He would remember the feel of that fabric forever. He had spent half the evening remembering the feel of it, of her, beneath his hand.

But this flesh was unmoving and growing cold. His mind refused the thought. She couldn’t be… His hands moved across her stomach and over her breasts until he reached her face. The cloth was still tied in place. His fingers ripped it away.

Miles leaned toward where Isobel's mouth was.

“Please. Please. Please,” he chanted over and over again, an incantation against his worst fear.

He put his cheek to her lips and felt her breath. She was not dead. But she wasn’t responding to him.

“What is it, Miles? What's happening?” Jack asked.

“She's here. But she's not responding...”

“My God,” Jack said.

Miles continued to feel. What could be wrong? What had happened? He hoped she had just collapsed from the strain. Or that she had been momentarily stunned into silence.

But even as he thought these things, Miles' hands reached her left shoulder. And everything within him went still.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

There was a hole in her shoulder from which he could feel something wet pump. Miles went weak, as if it was his own blood draining away. It should have been his blood. He was the one Davenport wanted to punish.

“She's wounded badly,” Miles called out.

“What should we do?” Jack asked.

A good question. They must do something or she could surely lose too much blood to recover.

“We need to stop the blood. I’ll use my shirt.” He heard the fabric of his jacket rip as he carelessly tore at it. He pulled his shirt over his head and wrapped it around Isobel’s wound. Still, she did not respond.
Don’t let it be too late
, he bargained with whatever God was listening. “We have to get a doctor and get her back to the house.”

“Yes, of course,” Jack agreed. “But what should we do with Davenport?”

Miles could think of nothing but stopping the flow of blood under his hand, the blood that took more of Isobel's life each moment.

“I don't know, Jack. I can't think right now.”

Jack must have heard the desperation in his voice, for his brother responded after a moment in a calm voice. “Miles, you take Isobel home and send the grooms back to me with the police. I will stay here and try not to kill this bastard.” There was a mild protest from the man on the ground.

Miles mustered all the energy he could and forced his limbs to work. Isobel needed him. As he picked up her limp body, Miles only hoped it was all as simple as his brother made it sound.

Chapter 20

Miles paced the hallway outside of Isobel’s room. He was impatient for news. Every moment stretched into an eternity as he waited to see whether Isobel would live or die. He could not have another death on his conscience.

Miles was relieved when Aunt Hetty finally emerged from the room and asked him to come in. As he entered, he hardly dared to glance at the bed where Isobel now lay.

The doctor spoke to them. “Isobel has lost a lot of blood from a gunshot wound to her left shoulder.” He spoke matter-of-factly, which served to calm Miles' nerves. “I have stopped the blood, but I am afraid that she is still in a lot of danger.”

Miles finally looked at Isobel. There was a sheet drawn up to her chin. It was almost as if she were dead and only awaited the shroud to be pulled over her head. But the doctor had said she was alive. Miles held his own breath as he watched closely for hers. Finally, finally, her chest rose and fell.

Tears rose to his eyes as he exhaled with her. She was alive for the moment. He hadn’t killed her.

Fearing his emotions would break down completely if he continued to watch her, Miles turned his attention back to what the doctor was saying. “The bullet must have gone all the way through her shoulder. I cleaned it all up as best as I could and bandaged it. I will have to keep a close eye on it, though.”

“So she will be all right, Doctor Williams?” Miss Catherine asked anxiously.

The doctor looked grave. “I am sorry to say that I am not at all certain of that, Miss Catherine.” The girl's face fell and a leaden weight tugged at Miles’ heart.

“What do you mean?” Aunt Hetty asked.

“There is a risk of infection to the wound.”

Miles saw Aunt Hetty nod her head thoughtfully. “Yes, infection. What can we do?”

The doctor seemed relieved that Aunt Hetty had stepped in. Miles knew it was hard to resist Miss Catherine. How much worse to have to deliver bad news.

“I will show you how to dress the wounds. And I will return as soon as I can to check on her. You must make her drink tea and broth. She is weak from losing so much blood.”

“Thank you, Doctor Williams,” Aunt Hetty said quietly. They moved toward the bed so that Aunt Hetty could learn how to dress the wound.

Miles hung back, but watched them carefully. It was because of him that she had been shot. He felt it was his responsibility to care for her.

“Lord Revere,” Aunt Hetty had finished with the doctor and now approached him. He turned his attention to her.

“Yes, Miss Masters?”

“Thank you for all you and Mr. Shepherd have done tonight. I do not know what would have happened without you.” She smiled kindly at him. It only made his heart hurt more.

“But it was because of me that this happened...”

Aunt Hetty put her hand on his arm to soothe him. “I do not blame you. And I know that Isobel will not blame you, either. You must go home and get some rest.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I will stay here.”

She spoke more firmly. “No, you must go to your house and rest, Lord Revere.”

“But what if...” He could not finish the sentence.

“I will send you word if anything changes.”

“And I will come again tomorrow as soon as I can.”

“Yes, you may do so. But please go and get some rest. You are more useful if you can think clearly as you did tonight.” Her understanding smile cut him to the quick. He had not thought clearly. He had not helped in any way tonight. It had all been his fault. But Miles saw that there was nothing else for him to do here tonight. Or this morning, as the sun was probably coming up by now.

His shoulders sagged with the weight of it all. “All right, Miss Masters. But please... send someone if she... if she worsens.” He choked on the words.

“I will. I promise.”

Miles nodded once and left the door. He made his way blindly out of the house and stumbled into the carriage. There would be police business to take care of. He must do something to fill the time before he could return to Isobel’s side.

Chapter 21

My whole body is being consumed in flames. My limbs are burning in a fire.
It was the only way Isobel could understand how she felt at the moment. Every part of her burned with a heat she had never experienced before. It was too hot. She had to escape it. If only she could see a door, some way to get out.

But everything was dark. If there was fire, there should also be light. Maybe her eyes were shut. She tried to open them. But she could not get them to move. She tried again. Still nothing. Panic. Why could she not open her eyes? What had happened to her? Why was she on fire? And why could she not see to escape it? She tried again. Still her eyelids would not lift themselves. She tried to reach her hands up and open them by force.

With that attempted movement, light exploded in her face. It dazzled her for a long moment before she realized that the light also brought a pulsing, like a drumbeat that would not cease. It came from all around and also from inside of her.

Light danced to the rhythm. It would not stay in one place so that she could find her way out of this room of fire. It would not move where she wanted it to move. And always there was the pulsing, the throbbing.

It seized her entire body, becoming as inescapable as the heat from the fire that still burned. Both were overwhelming.

And hurting.

It was too much. She was about to burst with the throb of the beat and the heat of the fire.

If only she could get away from it. If only she could get out of this room.

Isobel tried to force her limbs to work. Why would they not work? What was wrong with them? She must move. She must. Or she would die.

Die
.

She was in horrible danger. She needed to move but she could not.

The beating of the drum grew louder and the fire grew hotter.

Isobel sobbed with the pain.

* * * * *

Cat was weeping quietly even as she tried to guide the cup of tea to Isobel's mouth. Ten minutes ago her sister had started moving frantically in her bed. At first, Cat had thought she was waking up.

But no. She was moving her limbs as if she was uncomfortable and thrashing her head from side to side. Cat had thrown back the bedclothes, thinking to make her sister more comfortable. But that did not seem to have helped.

Isobel would not calm down.

In desperation, Cat had grabbed Izzy's hand. For a brief moment, her sister had stopped moving. As if she knew that Cat was there watching over her and caring for her. But the moment passed too soon and Cat was left again to watch her beloved sister writhe in pain.

Perhaps she needed something to drink. The doctor had said to keep her drinking as much tea as she would take. She must keep liquids in her body or else the fever would surely consume her.

Fever
.

She was so hot, like she had a fire inside of her that was trying to get out. But Cat did not want it to be fever. The doctor had said fever was the worst that could happen to her.