Lord Deverill's Heir by Catherine Coulter (best books to read all time .TXT) 📗

You are all right. He will pay for what he has done. No, don’t cry, Elsbeth, don’t cry. I don’t want him dead. But listen to me, sweetheart, he deserves whatever he gets.” Elsbeth fell to her knees on the floor. She began to cry, then shook her head, and dashed the tears away. “No,” she said. “No, I won’t cry. You’re right, Justin, he’s not worth it. But I wasn’t crying for him. Please tell me that Arabella will be all right. Please, Justin, don’t let her die. Please. It is all my fault if she dies.”

“No, Elsbeth, she won’t die. And none of this is your fault. I will strangle you if you ever say anything so stupid again. Now, I swear to you again that Arabella won’t die. She is my life, you see. I cannot let her die or else I am nothing at all.”

He turned from Elsbeth then and pressed harder on the wound. He searched his wife’s pale face. She was deeply unconscious, thank God. He prayed that she would continue unconscious. There was pain to be borne. He knew the bullet hadn’t gone through her shoulder. It would have to be dug out.

He wished that Gervaise was dead.

When Crupper came into the room, carrying both a basin of hot water and towels piled over his right arm, he said, “I don’t believe anyone else should be allowed in here, my lord. I understand that Dr. Branyon will arrive soon. As for Miss Elsbeth, I have told Grace that she is to assist the young lady to her bedchamber. Oh, Mrs. Tucker, you’re standing right at my elbow. Well, my lord, I could hardly tell Mrs. Tucker not to come in now.”

“I know,” the earl said.

Mrs. Tucker looked ready to faint and join Elsbeth on the floor. He said very gently, “Please, Mrs. Tucker, see Miss Elsbeth to her bedchamber.

Then Grace will attend her. Thank you. I know I can trust you to keep everyone else away.”

“But, my lord, what of the Frenchman?”

“Does he still live, Crupper?”

“I don’t know, my lord. I will go ascertain his condition. Hopefully it is not a good condition.”

“Thank you, Crupper.” Justin pressed down harder. The cloth beneath his fingers was soaked with Arabella’s blood. He began his prayers again.

After he was certain that the bleeding was sluggish, he placed his hand on Arabella’s breast to feel her heartbeat. It was rapid, but, he thought, steady. He looked down at her pale face, the heavy black lashes laying still against her cheeks. It was the plan of his own face. Except for the cleft in the chin. She didn’t have it. He remembered that long ago day when he had first met her, how she had told him she didn’t have the cleft. He remembered her bitterness, her anguish, her deadening grief for her father.

But now she was his. Now everything had been resolved. He wouldn’t let her die. He wouldn’t.

Finally, he slowly lifted the pad from the wound. He breathed a sigh of relief, for the bleeding had slowed to a trickle.

The earl did not again look up until Dr. Branyon hurried into the room.

“Good God, Justin, what the devil has happened here? Giles told me that Bella had been shot by the comte. What the hell—” The earl gently lifted the wadded pad from Arabella’s shoulder, his eyes meeting Dr. Branyon’s.

Dr. Branyon abruptly turned and held up his hand for Lady Ann to stop. He said curtly, “Ann, I do not want you in here. Go downstairs or go to Elsbeth and keep her with you. We will find out exactly what has happened later. I will come to you as soon as I can.”

“No, damn you, Paul, no! She is my daughter!” The earl said calmly, “Please, Ann, if Paul wants you gone, please go.

Gervaise shot her thorough the shoulder. He himself is very likely dead now. Please, do as Paul says.”

“Please, my darling. You would distract me. Please let me tend to your daughter as I should, Ann. Send Giles up when he arrives with my instruments.”

The earl didn’t say another word. He watched as Lady Ann turned slowly, grief and fear clear in every movement she made, and walked to the open door.

Paul called out, “She will survive, Ann, I promise you.” Lady Ann nodded, then thought: Elsbeth was already here? She had witnessed some of this? She would speak to her. Lady Ann picked up her skirts and ran full-tilt down the corridor.

As Dr. Branyon cleaned the wound and probed the area to determine the depth of the ball, the earl told him all that had happened. His voice was low, his choice of words placing entire blame upon himself, which Paul said, even though he never raised his face to look at the earl, was utter nonsense. “No, it’s true. I was an idiot not to carry a gun with me.”

“No, you feared for Arabella’s safety. Now, is that all?” Dr. Branyon asked, his eyes hard upon the earl’s face.

The earl thought about it. “No, there are other things, but it is not for me to tell you. I think it only fair for Arabella to tell you the rest of it and that only if she wants to. All right?” Dr. Branyon nodded. Then he straightened. “You know that I must remove the ball when Giles arrives with my instruments. You have had experience with wounded men in battle, Justin. You must assist me.”

“Yes, I will assist you. She will live, won’t she, Paul? She must, you know. She is my other half.”

“I know,” Dr. Branyon said, looking at the young earl’s face, a face he had come to know and like during the past weeks, weeks veiled in mystery and danger. And now, his Bella was lying here, close to death. But he wouldn’t say that to her husband.

The earl realized that he was clasping Arabella’s hand. He did not release it.

Arabella moaned.

Both men stiffened at the sound, their