‘Cal? Your Grace?’ The weight shifted and rolled off her and there was Flynn, white-faced, blood all down his shirt, blood on his knuckles. ‘Miss Wilmott…’
‘Never mind me. You are hurt.’ She scrambled to her knees. ‘The blood.’
‘Not mine.’ Flynn grabbed one of the shirts and wadded it against Cal’s right shoulder. ‘Get Hunt. Hell, he’s bleeding like a stuck pig.’
Sophie staggered to her feet. Cal was shot. Cal was bleeding because he had dived to take the bullet meant for her. Beyond, Ralph sprawled unconscious, the mark of Flynn’s knuckles red on his chin. She wrenched the door open and ran, then forced herself to a sedate walk as she reached the head of the stairs. Renshaw was, thankfully, walking across the hall below.
‘Renshaw, do you know where Mr Hunt is?’
‘Yes, Miss Wilmott, he has just gone to the study and is speaking with Mr Prescott, I believe.’
‘Will you tell them both to go to His Grace’s bedchamber immediately.’ She managed a smile. ‘Thank you, Renshaw.’
Back in Cal’s room Ralph was sitting up against the wall, his head in his hands and Flynn was arguing with Cal.
‘Stay where you are, damn it! Lie still.’
‘The bullet went right through, I think.’ Cal’s voice was strained, but he was coherent. ‘I can feel wetness under my back, I think you need to plug both holes.’
Flynn swore again as he grabbed for another shirt.
Sophie knelt beside them. ‘Let me press this one against his shoulder, then tip him up to rest against me and you can deal with the back.’ It would hurt him. He might be dying. She was not going to cry. She was not. There would be time for that later.
‘I’ll bleed all over you.’ The words came out on a gasp as Flynn hauled him up and Sophie put her free arm around him.
‘That is a major consideration, of course. I should have
thought of that in advance, but you are also bleeding on the carpet, which is probably more valuable than my gown.’
‘Are you… humouring me?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘Hunt and Prescott will be here in a minute and you can bleed all over them.’
‘Good.’ His voice trailed away, then strengthened. ‘Why won’t you marry me, Sophie?’
‘I…I can’t talk about that now. Flynn is here.’
‘He’s not listening.’
‘No, I’m not,’ Flynn muttered.
‘Humour… me some more.’ Cal’s voice was fading again.
Perhaps if she could seize his attention it might keep him conscious. ‘Because I love you.’ But he was slumped unconscious now.
Flynn made a sound that he bit off, then the door swung open and Hunt and Prescott were there and took Cal out of her arms. Sophie found herself sitting on the floor, covered in blood, confronting Ralph, who was quietly sobbing.
‘Stop it,’ she snapped. ‘Pull yourself together and do something useful.’
‘Send for the doctor,’ Hunt said from the bedside.
‘Accident,’ Cal said, his voice slurred. ‘Showing me the gun, it went off. Accident.’
‘He tried to kill you. You or Miss Wilmott,’ Flynn interjected, indignant.
‘Accident,’ Cal repeated. ‘All of you, listen to me. Sophie… go with Ralph, call the doctor, make sure he doesn’t say anything stupid. He’s in shock.’
‘Come on.’ She stood up, sized Ralph by the arm and tugged. ‘Get up, try and be some use.’