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Chapter 2
Giulia sprinted faster than she ever had before, and she’d had plenty of reasons to flee with haste in her short twenty years. She ran without slowing, watching the ground for holes that would lead to twisted ankles, and glancing up periodically to watch for the manor. As she neared her breaking point, she had to talk herself out of slowing to a walk more than once.
The lane trailed around a copse of trees and dipped slightly. As Giulia rounded the trees, a large castle bounded into view, halting her in her tracks. Chest heaving as she gulped for air, she trailed her gaze up the tall towers framing the castle, faintly glowing in the moonlight. The bulk of the building leered in the dark, its vast size and dark windows ominously taunting Giulia. She swallowed the fear that made its way into her throat.
Her father had spoken countless times about the castle he’d been raised in, but given the name Halstead Manor, Giulia had naturally assumed him to be exaggerating the claim. Father had made his living creating outlandish stories stemmed from fact. But it appeared this was not one of those times.
Evidently the perfect rendition of this very castle she had seen in her father’s journal was not, as she had assumed, a product of his imagination.
Giulia shook off her surprise and ran over a vast drawbridge, lowered over the remnants of what once must have been a deep moat but was now utterly dry, with pale grass, just visible in the moonlight, growing down the sloping sides of the ditch. Whether this was her uncle’s residence or not—though how could it not be—she needed to find help. And there was bound to be someone willing to help inside.
Reaching the vast wooden door, Giulia lifted the heavy, iron knocker and banged it against the metal plate, the vibration reverberating through her arm. It had been loud enough to wake the dead, a stark contrast to the silence now consuming the air.
She counted to ten to stem her impatience, all the while envisioning Danger lying on the road and a carriage unknowingly coming upon him. The vision stirred her anxiety. She hadn’t much time to lose. Giulia stepped forward and banged the knocker again with fury until her arm grew sore.
A muffled sound reached her ears as the door whipped open, yanking the knocker from her hand and pulling her arm forward with a snap. She clutched her shoulder, gazing up at an older gentleman in a dressing gown and cap, his mouth screwed up in a scowl and his bushy white eyebrows drawn together. A candle in his hand lit the doorway and cast shadows on his face, deepening the effect of his frown.
“Please, sir, you must help! There is a man down the lane that suffered a—”
“Do you know what hour it is?” he fumed.
Giulia bristled. It couldn’t be too terribly late, for the sun had only set an hour or so before. “No, nor do I care.”
This seemed to shock the man. She took advantage of his stunned silence. “As I said, there is an injured man on your lane. He suffered a gunshot wound, and I fear if he does not see a doctor soon, his life will be in danger.” She tried to sound calm and collected but had yet to restore her breathing to normal. She attempted to relax her irritation and offered the man a gentle smile.
“Who is he?” he asked.
She spoke with patience. “I do not know the man. I came upon him and did what I could to stop the bleeding, but he will need antiseptic and possibly surgery. He needs a doctor. Now.”
The man’s mouth formed a frown. “How do I know he is not some ruffian deserving of his gunshot wound?”
“I cannot answer for how the wound came about, but I know he is dressed like a gentleman. And it is my belief that one must do all one can for one’s fellow men, despite whether or not one deems them deserving.”
The man stared at her for a moment, moving his gaze from her rumpled, blood stained dress to her frizzy black hair which was undoubtedly in shambles. She clasped her hands together, willing them to stay down and not feel along the coronet braid that rounded her head just to see how unkempt she looked. The movement sent a sharp pain down her arm, but she ignored it.
“Now, will you help me, sir? Or shall I continue to another residence?”
This seemed to pull the man from his trance. “I will order the carriage right away and send my man to assist you.”
My man? So this was not the butler. Could it be…
Clearing her throat, Giulia said, “Thank you, sir, I am most obliged. I am sure the injured man will be as well when he regains full consciousness.”
He was distracted, his eyes settling on anything but her. “A gentleman, you said? On my road?”
“Yes, sir. Very fine clothes. I was unable to get a proper look at his face, but I can attest to his attire.”
He muttered a mild expletive and glanced at Giulia quickly. “Sorry,” he muttered.
She ignored it. A lady would never admit to hearing such language. At least that is what her father had told her time and again. She’d always believed it was his own strange way of saying what he wanted and reminding Giulia to not be phased by it.
“Do you know him?” she asked.
“I may.” The man turned and shouted, causing Giulia to jump. “Wells! Wells! Come, man!”
A moment later a tall, gangly man strode into the room. “Yes, m’ lord?”
My lord? There was no denying it, now. The older man had to be her uncle. She took an involuntary step back. The implication was clear, but she was not ready to give credence to that line of thinking yet.
