An ear-piercing scream filled the air, the accompanying crack dissolving into deathly silence.
Ada pressed her back against the wall, her eyes bulging from their sockets. “Oh, Lord. Is … is she dead?”
Miles straightened and swung around to find Lady Lovell’s lifeless body lying sprawled face-down on the floor. He reached her side in seconds, checked for a pulse to make sure she was breathing.
Blood trickled from a wound to her head, the burgundy trail so stark against the white marble. From what he could tell, she’d fallen on the corner of the candlestick, the metal base digging into the flesh at her temple.
“You need to go to Cuckfield and fetch a doctor,” Miles called out to Randall urgently. “I’ll be damned if I’m leaving Miss Lovell here alone with you.”
The fop winced and retched a few times when he looked at the thick scarlet pool swimming around the woman’s head. With his hands pressed flat against the wall, he edged around the body before hurrying out of the door at the end of the hall.
Lydia escorted Ada back into the drawing room and returned to kneel beside Miles. “It would be unwise to move her until the doctor arrives, but it might be too late if we don’t stem the bleeding.”
The increasing burgundy puddle said Lydia was right.
He nodded, and Lydia called for the servants to bring hot water, blankets and fresh linen cloths. It amazed him that she could show Lady Lovell any compassion after the way the woman had behaved. But then her kind heart was one of the reasons he loved her.
“She would have killed you given half a chance,” he said, trying to banish the crippling sense of fear that gripped him when he recalled the evil look in Lady Lovell’s eyes.
“Arabella has wanted to kill me for quite some time. I only wish she hadn’t ruined our perfect moment.”
Nothing could ruin her romantic declaration.
He could recall every word spoken, every tremble of her lips, the sparkle in her eyes when she promised him a life filled with love.
Miles took hold of her chin. “We will continue the conversation tonight once we’ve dealt with this situation. That’s assuming we can command the use of your brother’s carriage.” He’d drag out one of the Greystone carriages but wasn’t sure if he had any horses to pull the damn thing.
Lydia’s eyes brightened. “Why, are we going on a journey?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Ada, have you seen my cloak, the blue one with the hood?”
Lydia had searched the attic twice. It was somewhere in the room, but excitement rendered her incapable of focusing on anything other than her impending departure.
She sighed with happiness at the thought of spending time alone with Greystone. A part of her expected to feel Ada nudge her in the ribs and wake her up from this beautiful dream.
“It’s here, miss, hanging on the hook on the back of the door, right where you left it.” Ada shook the garment and draped it around Lydia’s shoulders.
“Now, you’ll be all right here until I return?” Lydia felt a little easier leaving the maid knowing Arabella could do her no harm. At present, her sister-in-law was locked in a vegetative state. Dr Mason warned her recuperation could take months, years. “Lord Greystone said we’ll be gone for a few days. When Mr Dariell arrives back from London, he’ll help you move all our belongings to the manor.”
By all accounts, Dariell had accompanied Mr Gilligan on a trip. With reluctance, the steward had taken a position on one of Greystone’s merchant vessels sailing for India, and Dariell was instructed to remain there until the ship left th
e docks.
“I’ll manage, miss. Lord Greystone said I’m to store your things in his chamber for the time being.” Ada offered a beaming grin. “And Mrs Guthrie will help me find my way around the place.”
After the shocking events of the day, it was a relief to see the maid smile.
The butterflies in Lydia’s stomach returned when she thought of spending every night in Greystone’s bedchamber. The blood heated in her veins when she pictured the lord’s muscular body rising above her, claiming her in the way that made her toes curl as she cried out his name.
“Well, happen his lordship is back from the manor by now,” Ada said, hauling Lydia’s valise with two hands. “And you don’t want to be late, miss.”
“No, Ada. Lord Greystone is not the sort of man a lady keeps waiting.”
They made their way down to the hall.