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She wanted to obey, but she was simply too tired. Her eyes closed and everything went dark and quiet.
Chapter Seven
Will felt her body go limp and cursed. He didn’t need to ask if she was injured. He could see the blood seeping through the material of the pale green dress she wore.
Everything had happened so quickly. The queen and her retinue were only now safely inside the royal carriages. Will had to make a quick decision—put Emily in the carriage with them or keep her here and have them send a doctor.
The carriage carrying the queen started away, and two guards marched toward him. “Is she injured, sir?”
“Yes,” he said. “Are you holding the carriage for Lady Averley?” Will gestured toward the waiting coach.
“Yes, sir. Should we carry her?” one of the queen’s men asked.
“I have her. Send the carriage back and go with it. I’ll take her into the cottage there and see if I can stop the bleeding. Send a doctor back, will you?”
“It will be faster if you ask the staff at the house to call for a doctor in Richmond, sir,” one of the guards said.
“Thank you. Go now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Will leaned down and attempted to rouse Emily, but she only murmured incoherently and did not open her eyes. He watched as the last of the party departed, leaving behind the few guards searching the woods. They wouldn’t find anyone. The would-be assassin was long gone.
Will lifted Emily and started up the small rise to the cottage just beyond. It wasn’t an official residence, but the queen liked to use it when she came to Richmond for picnics or boating. It had a yard for the horses, several rooms she could use in which to change or seek shelter if it began to rain, and the small staff were able to serve tea and simple fare.
The white cottage was modest for the queen, but it would do nicely for his purposes. As he neared the door, it swung open and a liveried servant called out, “Is it one of the queen’s ladies?”
“Yes. I believe she has been shot. Do you have a chamber with a bed where I could take her?”
“Yes, sir. Right this way, sir.” Will followed him up a set of stairs, nodding as the servant asked if he wanted a doctor and then called down to another servant to fetch one.
The servant opened the door to a dark room, one that they had obviously not intended to use. The servant lit a lamp, and Will laid Emily on one of the two beds in the chamber. The bed was unmade and that was a good thing because the blood from the wound in Emily’s leg would no doubt soil the sheets. Will sent the servant to fetch a basin of water and clean towels then stripped off his coat and neckcloth and tossed them both on a chair in the corner. Taking a deep breath, he raised Emily’s skirts, cursing as he had to wade through several petticoats and a crinoline. Finally, he had them out of the way and could see the wound. It was on her upper leg, about two inches above the knee on the outer side of her thigh.
The amount of blood obscured everything else, and he couldn’t determine how deep it was or if the pistol ball was lodged inside her flesh. Will rose and fetched his neckcloth, fashioning a tourniquet and securing it just above the wound. He was about to call down and see what was taking the servants so long with the water when the manservant who had opened thedoor to him entered with a basin in one hand and a bowl stacked with towels in the other.
“The maid is heating more water, sir,” he told Will as Will took the basin and towels and knelt beside the bed. He immediately dipped a towel in the water and began to clean off the blood. Gradually, he became aware the manservant still stood in the chamber.
“Was there something else...”
“Peters.”
“Was there something else, Peters? The lady is in an indelicate state. I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate you gawking.”
Peters went red, a color that all but matched his coat. “I was not looking, sir. I just wondered if the queen...”
“Of course. You are right to be concerned. Her Majesty was uninjured as far as I know. She is on her way back to the palace with the prince and the others.”
“Thank you, sir. I will see if the doctor has arrived yet.” Peters left, closing the door, and Will went back to the task of cleaning the blood. Of course, the servant would want to know if the queen was injured. That should have been Will’s first concern as well. He was a Royal Saboteur. He was sworn to defend the queen and prevent any threats to her life. But what had he done when he’d heard the first shot fired? He’d thought only of Emily. He’d raced to her, ignoring his queen altogether. Will could see now that he hadn’t even spared a thought for Victoria. He wasn’t even certain if the queen had been spared injury.
He dipped another towel in the basin, wiping away the last of the blood from the wound. Blood still trickled down, but the tourniquet had done its work and eased the blood flow. He could see now that the wound was a deep gouge. The pistol ball had not entered her flesh, just torn through the material of her skirts, grazed her leg, and continued on.
Will sat back on his haunches and blew out a breath. The injury was deep and must be cleaned. It might even require a stitch or three and would probably scar. But no surgeon would be required to cut the ball out, and it had not entered her leg, where it might have done more damage. She’d been lucky. Or possibly unlucky. The assassin had not been aiming for her. She’d stepped into the line of fire, inadvertently shielding the queen.
That didn’t mean he thought she was innocent of all suspicion. But if she’d known there would be an attempt on the queen’s life, wouldn’t she have cried off before the outing? And if she could not avoid the outing, wouldn’t she stay well away from the queen? Will tried to remember where everyone had been right before the first shots had been fired. Lady Jocelyn and the Duchess of Charlemont had been near the queen. The men had been on the river. He had been near the shore. Emily had been the only one to wander away, toward the wooded area where the assassin waited. It didn’t make sense.
She stirred then, and he rose and leaned over her, touching her forehead to check for fever. Her eyes opened, looking darker and bluer than her usual light blue, but she focused on his face immediately. “The queen?” she asked.
Apparently, he was the only one who didn’t think of the queen first.
