Page 35 of Seduction of a Widow

Chapter Nine

Leslie‘s ears rang with the roar of the pistols. She glimpsed the flash of gunpowder and almost tripped over her skirt as she lunged from the trees. Evan staggered, then fell to the ground.

Voices rose in pandemonium. Leslie reached Evan and dropped to her knees beside him. The men reached them, and the torchlight illuminated the furrow in the side of his head. Her head spun. The doctor dropped to his knees on the other side of Evan.

“His head is bleeding.” Panic blurred her vision.

The doctor pressed two fingers to his neck.

“He is not dead, you fool,” Leslie snapped.

“Aye,” he replied as if speaking to a child. “Stirling” –he opened his bag and pulled out bandages— “please have the cart brought over.”

He spoke in a maddeningly calm voice that made Leslie want to box his ears.

“Bob,” Stirling said, and the footman handed him the torch, then hurried to the cart.

“Stirling, give me a hand,” the doctor said.

Stirling grasped Leslie’s arm. “My lady.”

She shook him off.

The doctor looked up at her. “Madam, if you would prefer my patient not bleed to death, I suggest you allow Sir Stirling to help me.”

She blinked. Stirling pulled her to her feet and she turned and found herself enveloped in Baroness Trent’s arms. Her heart thudded as they bandaged his head, then lifted him onto the cart. Stirling and the doctor jumped onto the cart, and Stirling ordered the footman to take them to the mansion. Leslie started after them.

Sir Stirling gave her a gentle smile. “You and Baroness Trent can walk through the grove. You will likely reach the mansion before we do.”

She hesitated as the cart rolled forward, then allowed Baroness Trent to urge her toward the trees.

Stirling was correct. They reached the house before the cart. Baroness Trent hurried into the house and soon returned with four more footmen. Leslie paced the center of the drive until she spotted the cart, then retreated to the base of the steps as the cart pulled up close to the front door. The footmen carried Evan upstairs to his room and Leslie helped bring up sterilized bandages. The doctor made no comment on his condition. Her only consolation was the steady rise and fall of Evan’s chest.

Once they cleaned and bandaged his head, the doctor said, “The bleeding has stopped, but only time will tell if the trauma to his head caused any damage.”

“Damage?” Leslie said. “What kind of damage?”

The doctor glanced at Stirling.

“I would not worry about that, my lady,” Stirling said. “Evan is a strong young man. He, no doubt, will wake with little more than a headache.”

“What kind of damage?” she demanded again.

The doctor rose. “If there is any swelling in the brain, there could be complications. The brain has a remarkable ability to heal. Keep a close eye on him for the next day. I will return tomorrow morning.” He gave her a gentle smile. “Of course, if anything changes, do not hesitate to summon me.”

Leslie wanted to say more, to demand he do something, anything, to rouse Evan. But Sir Stirling thanked him and the doctor left.

Leslie swung on Stirling. “Of all the foolhardy things to do. Why the did you allow him to participate in this duel?”

“Do you believe I could have stopped him?”

“You could have tied him and taken him off somewhere until his temper cooled.”

Stirling’s brows rose. “If you think that his actions were borne out of a temper, then you sorely underestimate him, my lady.”

She gave her head an impatient shake. “Yes, yes, you know what I mean.”

“Aye, I do. But you must understand Evan is,” he paused, “well, he is very old fashioned.”