She turned back to her bed but paused. Another pitter-patter of footsteps went running past her door. Even if she wanted to, she could not blame that on her imagination. What was happening? Could someone be in the manor? What if whoever wanted to harm her had snuck in and was waiting outside, sword in hand, ready to thrust it into her the second she—
No.
She would not think such things. Where was the bravery she was always calling upon in her ridiculous dreams?
Tightening her wrapper, she pulled open the door and found her way to the stairs in the darkness. She descended faster as the voices downstairs grew louder, then followed them to the candle-lit entrance hall.
Lord Gillingham was the only one she could see. He stood in the open front doorway, clothed in his nightdress, with both hands weaving through his hair. He turned, caught sight of Eliza. He seemed as if he would have said something, but someone from outside interrupted him, and he merely swept out of the way.
Then two servants hurried through the threshold.
Carrying a body.
No.Shock jolted her chest, made her legs go weak as she flattened against the wall.Felton?
He was torn and wet and limp, with blood soaking the white of his shirtsleeves, with mud in his hair and his face. Like a dead man.
She started for him, but a sharp hand drew her back. “Stay out of the way, Miss Gillingham,” said Mrs. Eustace. “Take him upstairs and hurry off the wet clothes. Leah?”
The girl appeared from the shadows.
“Fetch bandages and water and see that the hearth is started in his chamber. And hurry!” The housekeeper turned to Lord Gillingham, who approached with eyes that seemed dazed and aggrieved. “The doctor is on his way, my lord. Is there anything else?”
“What happened?”
“We hardly know. I myself, my lord, was awakened only minutes before you. It seems the stable master heard someone shaking at the gates, little knowing it to be young Northwood and certainly not expecting to find him like this.”
“Then he said nothing of who did this?”
“No, my lord.”
“I see. Send a servant to the Northwoods, for they must be made aware.” When the housekeeper rushed away in her night jacket, Lord Gillingham took Eliza by the arm. “I will walk you back to your chamber.”
“I want to see him.”
He nodded, as if he’d known, and together they made their way to the quiet guest chamber. She almost looked away from the shirtless man half under the coverlets.
But she couldn’t. She only edged closer, stood over top of him, and stared down into a face swollen and discolored. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”
Lord Gillingham positioned himself on the opposite side of the bed. “I do not know. We shall know more when he awakens.”
“Is he …” She lowered her finger to the coverlet, traced the seam that rose and fell with each of his breaths. “Is he…going to awaken, of a certain?”
“He is too determined not to.”
Tears climbed her throat. She didn’t know why. Not so very long ago, if she could have beaten him this way herself, she would have.
But this was different. This was not the man who had entered her forest and stolen her away, or kicked at her dog, or threatened her beloved Captain.
He was the one who had danced with her in the library and promised to protect her and grasped her hands only one day ago.
And she hurt for him. She didn’t know why or how or if he were more enemy or friend…she simply hurt for him.
“Get back in that bed, Northwood, before I throw you back in myself.”
Why was the dashed man playing the part of Mamma? Felton went to the window and jerked back the leopard-spotted curtains. Morning light stabbed his eyes, making his head throb to a faster beat. “You may go ahead and prepare a carriage for me, my lord, as I will be going home now.”
“You heard the doctor.”
