“See that Lady Quamby is all right, Odette,” he called. “Make sure there’s hot water and liniment and anything else you can think of!”
By now, he was already astride, wheeling round the frisky mare and galloping away hard on Tom’s heels.
The rain had not eased, and the ground was slippery as the horses half slid down the steep hill that led to the river. What was Katherine doing on horseback here in weather like this? It made no sense unless…
Fragments of the conversation he’d overheard at Patmore Farm whispered in his mind. No, he’d not countenance that such a trail of deceit should lead to this. Had Katherine’s aunt really summoned her here on the pretext that Jack was in danger? The fact Katherine had come so peremptorily, and thereby risked her own life riding in these conditions, was no balm to his ego when set against what he feared he would find.
A small group had gathered by the edge of the river which, dear Lord, he realised she’d tried to cross in one bound. He couldn’t countenance it—it was madness! Utter recklessness!
But at their feet lay Katherine, so small and vulnerable and unmoving.
He could barely swallow, and prickles of fear chilled him to the bone. He’d never felt such fear at the unknown. When he’d left all he held dear seven years ago—namely Katherine—to make his way in the world, the unknown had been a big adventure. He had youth, energy, fearlessness, and he’d thought, more to gain than he had to lose.
Now, with success achieved in that he’d secured a future for himself and the deserving woman who would be his wife, he realised he had everything to lose.
Love. The only true love he would ever have.
As the villagers shifted, turning as he hailed them in his progress down the hill, he caught a glimpse of her prone form, the dove-grey of her sodden riding habit half-covered in the mud through which she’d been dragged as her first rescuers had moved her to higher ground.
Yes, the chance to ever love properly was what he risked losing.
He dismounted and crouched by her side. “Katherine.” He spoke her name softly as he put his hand to her neck. A weak pulse beat there, and a surge of hope made him snap his head up and shout, “She lives. We need a door or a wide plank of wood on which to carry her. Katherine!”
She stirred, and he lowered his head to hers in the hope he’d hear something distinguishable from her lips. But she remained unintelligible, though, thank God, she was struggling to sit up.
A makeshift stretcher would take too long to get here. Jack contemplated the distance to the cluster of cottages that might yield something suitable, then bent down and put his hands beneath her knees and about her shoulders.
He’d carry her, even if he collapsed from the effort, for the weight of sodden skirts and petticoats was considerable. He couldn’t put her on his horse and jolt her all the way back, though hopefully a carriage or cart could be found. In the meantime, he’d relish the chance to have her pressed close to his chest even if it was the last time…
No, he’d not think about anything that might truncate the future for either of them. The only moment was now, and by God, he’d make the most of it.
The feel of her curves pressed against him was achingly familiar as he carried her through the mud that sucked at his boots, back towards Patmore Farm. Suddenly, nothing seemed more right than that Katherine should accompany him home to where his parents would be waiting anxiously for their return.
And anxious they should be for Katherine had fallen back into unconsciousness and the extent of her injuries remained unknown. Jack hoped he wasn’t exacerbating them with each footstep but what else could he do? He wasn’t going to let anyone else have the care of her.
In the meantime, he hoped that someone had thought to fetch the doctor.
They had.
Dr Lovegrove was pacing by the window, turning as Jack staggered into the bedchamber to which he’d been led and gently laid Katherine upon the blue-and-gold counterpane. Dr Lovegrove had attended to Katherine when she was a child during the summers she’d visited Patmore Farm. Like Jack, he’d have fond memories of the little hoyden who climbed trees and took foolish risks on horseback. Katherine ought to have grown out of such daredevilry, and indeed, the generally sober demeanour she’d presented since Jack’s return suggested she had.
But something dramatic had happened to make her cast caution to the wind and embark upon what anyone would consider the most foolish of risks—trying to cross a river in flood. He couldn’t reconcile the talk he’d overheard as he left Derry’s drawing room. Would Katherine really have been spurred to such action through concern for Jack’s welfare?
He stepped back to allow the doctor access to Katherine’s side, gazing at the perfection of her features so pale and still against the pillow. She was beautiful. Beautiful from the inside out, and his heart hitched as he closed his eyes and the constriction in his throat made it hard to breathe.
Lady Quamby was weeping as she hurried into the room, her tears not feigned, for Jack had seen often how judiciously she manufactured emotion to achieve her own ends. Now she appeared panicked and remorseful as she knelt at the bedside and snatched Katherine’s hand, George looking downcast, shuffling into the room in her wake.
“Katherine, dearest girl, forgive me.” Lady Quamby held her niece’s hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. “Forgive me for not helping you all those years ago when I truly believed you loved Freddy.”
Jack blinked. And his eyes widened when George leaned over his mother’s shoulder and said softly but urgently, “I was to blame, Mother. I proposed the wager. I encouraged Freddy when he thought he had no chance of winning Katherine.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow, adding, “Though I swear I did not know he’d lost everything at the gaming tables the night before the blackguard tricked her into getting into his carriage. Do not blame yourself, alone, Mother. You always wanted only what was best for Katherine. Unlike me. Until now.” His voice broke. “Only to see our plan go so horribly wrong.”
Plan? Jack was about to interject and quiz them with urgent ferocity, but the doctor was now rising after he’d gently wiped the mud from Katherine’s brow, and everyone moved aside so he could reach his bag of instruments.
“How bad are her injuries?” Jack managed to ask, clenching his fists to stop them trembling.
/> The doctor stared at Jack a moment, his eyes flickering in the effort, it seemed, to place the situation in its rightful context.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you just yet. I fear, however, that’ll she’ll not manage to walk up the aisle in—when did your mother say the wedding was?”