“Pretendthisis charades?” Cynthia offered in a small voice.
“Move,” Alexander growled. “All of you.”
The crowd parted, but barely.
“He’s here!” cried a voice from just outside the door.
The lad who had shot Cynthia with his bow and arrow skidded into the entranceway, wild-eyed and breathing fast.
“He’s here,” he repeated, pointing behind him. “The doctor’s here.”
“Good.” Alexander headed into the corridor. “You two can follow me.”
Chapter 12
Lady Gertrude burst through the bedchamber door just as Alexander was easing his arm out from under Cynthia Louise so Doctor Quinney could inspect her.
“Gertie,” Cynthia croaked, her voice faint. “I got Max.”
Lady Gertrude burst into tears and crumpled beside the bed with her face pressed into the blanket.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have taken Max. I should’ve held on tighter. I—”
“It’s not your fault,” said the lad. “I’m the one who shot her.”
Lady Gertrude whirled from the bed to her feet like a wild tempest. She was across the bedchamber in seconds.
The slap reverberated around the room.
The lad didn’t dodge the blow, nor flinch when it landed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I deserved that. I didn’t see her or the dog. I was concentrating on the target, and as soon I released my arrow... She slid right into it. I wished it had doubled back and hit me instead.”
Lady Gertrude’s lip wobbled. “That’s how I felt, too.”
“Well!” The sound of the duchess’s loud sniff filled the doorway. “I don’t see how it’s at all appropriate to have not one, but two unrelated men in the sickroom whilst the doctor—”
“You,” Alexander commanded the white-faced lad. “Take Lady Gertrude to the parlor, where Her Grace is about to serve hot tea.”
“But Vale,” the duchess stammered, her eyes wide with shock. “We—”
“—will speak once the doctor has concluded his examination.” Alexander raised his brows pointedly. “A maid shall stay for propriety’s sake. As to the rest of you:Goodbye.”
Lady Gertrude hurried out of the room with the lad close behind her.
He shut the door tight.
Good boy.
“Now what?” Alexander asked the doctor.
“Now we cut away these clothes.” Doctor Quinney sent Cynthia an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, young lady. The arrow is stuck. Besides, I cannot take the risk of your wound ripping worse just to save garments that are already ruined.”
Stuck arrow.
Wound ripping.
Alexander sat down hard on the dressing stool. The guest chamber went gray at the edges of his vision.
