The Fallen Woman (A Regency Romance) (29 page)

“I-It was an accident!” There was obvious panic in Lord Wintergreen’s voice. “It just… fired on its own! I don’t know what happened?”

“Fired on its own?” Andrew cackled at the thought. “What do you think I’ve been doing over here? Sleeping? I’ve had my eyes on you the entire time! You spun around and took aim before I had a chance to blink!”

“I-I did not! It just… I just…” Lord Wintergreen turned to his second. “Tell them it was an accident.”

The man in pink didn’t move his mouth. It looked like he was torn between defending his friend and telling a lie.

Tristan raised his pistol. “You tried to fire on me while my back was turned? Well, then… it’s my turn to take a shot at you.”

Lord Wintergreen fell to his knees and pleaded. “No, please!”

It was an interesting sight to see, since he didn’t seem like the sort of man who would ever grovel. He was so staid and arrogant.

“I-I really didn’t mean for my pistol to fire!” Wintergreen insisted. “It was an accident!”

Andrew laughed. “Why else would you turn around before he counted to twenty? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Wintergreen held his hands in front of his face, staring at Tristan’s gun through parted fingers. “Don’t kill me!” he shrieked.

“Who said anything about killing you? I thought we were going to fire at each other ‘til first blood.”

Wintergreen started whimpering. If it was his intention to make himself look pitiful, his plan was definitely working.

“I think you should demand an apology for whatever disrespect he showed to Lady Randall,” Andrew calmly suggested. “I’m sure an apology is sounding much better to him right now, wouldn’t you say?”

Tristan had other ideas. “Or I could just shoot him and get it over with.”

Wintergreen covered his eyes and cried to the sky. “NO!”

Another shot rang out, and the seconds collectively held their breath. But their worry was unwarranted, for Tristan had purposely aimed to hit the ground beside Lord Wintergreen. He didn’t want to kill the man, but he had nothing against frightening him a little bit.

Wintergreen peeked through his fingers. “You missed.”

“Indeed I did. That was my intent,” Tristan explained, finding it hard to believe his opponent had the audacity to gloat after his pitiable display. “You aren’t worth the consequences.” He started to head over to Andrew.

“I thought we were going to exchange shots ‘til first blood!” Wintergreen exclaimed. “We can make another pass at each other!”

“When you’ve already proven yourself incapable of following any sort of gentleman’s code? I think not.” Tristan and Andrew were already starting to head down the hill. “Just leave me and my wife alone… that’s all I ask.”

As they were leaving the scene, they didn’t see Wintergreen crawl across the ground, and they certainly didn’t see him make a desperate grab for his spare pistol. They had no idea what was going on until they heard the man in pink shout, “No, don’t!”

By that time, it was too late. They had no warning before the third shot pierced the sky. This time, Wintergreen’s pistol found its mark. A red ring of blood seeped onto the shoulder of Tristan’s tan coat, and his legs collapsed beneath him.

Andrew fell to his knees beside his fallen friend, gasping. “Dishonorable bastard!” he shouted. Grabbing Tristan’s pistol, he aimed it toward the hill’s summit, where Lord Wintergreen was leering at them.

Weakness took hold of Tristan almost immediately. He could hardly force his lips to move. “Andrew… don’t…”

“Why not? Tristan!” Andrew shrieked. “That’s the second time he’s shot at you while your back is turned! He deserves it! Look!” Andrew stared, horrified, at the patch of blood on his friend’s coat. It grew wider by the second. “It almost hit your heart…”

“I…” Tristan’s thought was momentarily destroyed by a surge of pain. “I… don’t… want you in any sort of trouble because of me.”

“You don’t know how much I
want
this trouble! I want to shoot that man between the eyes!”

“Don’t. I just want to… get back to Leona.” Tristan grimaced, because he was in a great deal of pain, and hated to think of what Leona would think.

“Are you happy now, you coward?!” Andrew shouted at Wintergreen, who looked like he was being held back by his second. “Your friend is twice the man you are, and he’s probably a eunich!”

“Andrew…” Tristan tried to call his friend’s attention back to him.

“Alright, I’ll go.” Andrew slung one of Tristan’s arms around his shoulder and rose to his feet, hoisting his friend along with him. “But you’re crazy if you think I’ll let that man get away with what he did. I’m contacting the magistrate as soon as we get back!”

“I think I’d like you to contact a doctor first,” Tristan said, chuckling in spite of himself. As they shuffled back to their horses, Tristan thought he was moving rather well, considering the fact he’d just been shot and his health was already poor as it was. He mounted his horse with relative ease and managed to ride back without slumping over in his saddle, which made him think he wasn’t going to die from this.

Until he collapsed in front of Aunt Bess’ cottage.

* * *

“Leona!” Mary dashed into her mistress’ bedroom without knocking. She was flustered to the point that she wasn’t thinking clearly.

Leona, who had just risen from bed, sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Mary? What? What is it?”

“It’s…” Mary’s hand flew to her mouth, and her teeth clenched her knuckles. When she managed to collect herself, she said, “It’s Lord Randall! He’s been shot!”

An instant panic took hold of Leona’s heart. So, he’d participated in the duel after all? “How is he? Is he alright?”

“I’m afraid it’s very bad, miss. Very bad…”

Leona sprung from bed, grabbed a shawl, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Without another thought, she took Mary by the elbow and said, “Quick… you have to take me to him!”

Mary seized Leona’s wrist and led her out of the room and down the hall, to a small sitting room at the front of the house. Inside the sitting room, Tristan’s motionless body was sprawled across a sofa. Bess was standing over him, her hands clasped over her mouth in shock. Together, Bess and Andrew had already divested some of Tristan’s more constricting attire. Now that his coat had been removed, it was even more horrifying to see how much blood had soaked his shirt.

“Tristan!” Leona ran to his side and fell to her knees. “Tristan! Tristan!” When he didn’t respond, she took his wrist and shook it. When she noticed how pale he was, a cold dread clenched her insides.

“He’s not responding to anything,” Bess explained. “He’s out cold.”

“Tristan!” Tears exploded from Leona’s eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. After their magical moment last night, the vision of her dying husband was like something out of a nightmare. “Please… he needs a doctor!”

Bess stood beside Leona and gave her a gentle pat on the arm. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but nothing could calm Leona’s fear. She was utterly inconsolable. “Mr. Lamb’s already sent for a doctor, dear. There’s nothing we can do but wait.”

With a hysterical squeal, Leona pressed her palm against Tristan’s wound. “We have to stop the bleeding!”

Bess wrapped an arm around Leona’s and attempted to lift her off the floor. But she wouldn’t budge. “Try to stay calm. The doctor doesn’t live far from here. He should be here in just a few minutes, dear.”

If Bess called her
dear
one more time, Leona thought she might scream. She certainly felt like screaming. Instead, she laid her head on Tristan’s stomach and wept. What if this was it? What if he stopped breathing? What if his comfort and love was taken away from her? What if they put him in a box in the ground and she never saw him again?

She knew he was dying when she fell in love with him, but she didn’t expect him to die like this! And certainly not as soon as this!

A few minutes later, Andrew stepped into the room with the doctor, a dignified-looking man with a forehead full of wrinkles, which seemed to deepen when he laid eyes on Tristan. Bess motioned for Mary’s help; together, they scooped Leona off the floor and carried her aside, giving the doctor his space.

“Let’s go… we need to give the doctor some time,” said Bess. “We shouldn’t stay here.”

“But I don’t want to leave him!” Leona rotated her shoulders in an attempt break away from the other women. “Tristan!”

“We should rest in another room, miss,” Mary suggested with a sigh. “If we stand around in there, we won’t be helping one bit.”

They guided Leona to a room across the hall. As soon as they let go of her, Leona stomped across the floor and sat in a rickety chair, arms crossed. She raked a hand across her face in frustration, forgetting it was covered in Tristan’s blood. “Mary…” she whispered. “What if I… what if I lose him?”

“I don’t know, miss.”

“I should be there with him! What if he dies? What if these are his final moments, and I’m not there with him? I don’t understand why you won’t let me be with him!”

Bess sat beside her and patted her on the back. “We can return in a few minutes, but I think it’s best if we give the doctor a few minutes alone with him.”

Leona raked her hands over her head in frustration, unintentionally tracking blood through her hair. When she realized what she was doing, she also realized she didn’t care. The status of her hair was the last thing that mattered to her right now. She tried to picture a life without Tristan, but she couldn’t. She tried to remember what her life was like before she met him, but she couldn’t. She clasped her hands together and prayed with every fiber of her being. She prayed for more time—just a few more years. That’s all she wanted. With all her heart, she begged a higher power to help Tristan overcome his poor condition.

She wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed when the doctor came into the room, because her mind was swimming with doomed thoughts. And she could only hear part of what he was saying, because there was a buzzing in her head that drowned out all other noise.

“I’m afraid it’s not good… lost a lot of blood…”

Leona closed her eyes and tried to listen to what he was saying. She was waiting for the doctor to offer her a few words of hope. That’s usually what doctors did, wasn’t it? They told you how terrible it was, and then they’d offer a solution.

“I’m sorry to say… he probably won’t make it.”

Leona tightened her fingers over her lips, stifling a wail. So it was worse than she thought.
Oh God, how horrible.

“Lady Randall, are you aware of your husband’s condition?” the doctor went on. “His heart is very weak, and enlarged, and the sound is irregular… and to be honest, I think the shot might’ve grazed it. I’ve stitched him up as well as I can, but I’m not sure it’ll be enough to save him. His degenerative heart disease would have been a problem to begin with, but with the injury on top of it…and the loss of blood…”

Leona sighed. If he had more bad news, she wished he would just come out with it.

“All we can do now is hope the fever breaks.” The doctor discouragingly shook his head. “If it doesn’t, it’ll be a miracle if he lasts through the night.”

Chapter Thirty Three

When Leona went back to the sitting room to see Tristan, she was still shaken by the doctor’s news. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, the result of ten minutes of streaming tears. To her surprise, Tristan was awake when she walked in. In spite of his poor state, his eyes lit up when he saw her. When his lips twitched into a smile, a fresh wave of tears sprung from Leona’s eyes.

“Tristan…” She fell to her knees beside him and laid her head against his stomach. “Tristan… Tristan… why?!”

Weakly, he lifted a hand and ran his fingers through her hair. “My love…” His eyes fluttered when he spoke. It was obvious he was in a great deal of pain. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Tristan. Andrew told me everything that happened. It’s not your fault!”

“I…” His voice was interrupted by an agonized wheeze. “I shouldn’t have gone.”

Leona buried her face in Tristan’s shirt .She didn’t care that it was covered in blood; she just wanted to be as close to him as she could. She wanted to enjoy every second with him, in case the worst was going to happen. She wanted to remember how it felt to have his hand on her head, touching her hair, caressing her skin. She used all her senses to soak in the moment—so she could remember it forever.

“I know what the… doctor thinks,” Tristan spoke between labored breaths. “He thinks I’m going to die.”

“Tristan, that’s…” She wanted to protest, but she knew the doctor might be right. The doctor’s words pervaded her. “There’s still a chance your fever might go down. You might pull through it.”

“If I don’t… I love you.”

Leona lifted her head from his chest and wiped away her tears. “If you
do
pull through, you better love me twice as much!”

Not only did he muster a weak chuckle, he also managed to lift a hand to wipe her tear-stained face. “Of course. I’ll always love you. I meant to say… I want you to know that I love you.” He looked over his wife’s shoulder, where Bess and Mary were standing in the doorway. Like Leona, they were wiping away tears from their own faces. “I wish everyone would stop crying for me. It makes me feel… bad.”