The Fallen Woman (A Regency Romance)

by K. L. O'Keefe

  “Indeed I did. That was my intent,” Tristan explained, finding it hard to believe his opponent had the audacity to gloat after his pitiable display. “You aren’t worth the consequences.” He started to head over to Andrew.

  “I thought we were going to exchange shots ‘til first blood!” Wintergreen exclaimed. “We can make another pass at each other!”

  “When you’ve already proven yourself incapable of following any sort of gentleman’s code? I think not.” Tristan and Andrew were already starting to head down the hill. “Just leave me and my wife alone… that’s all I ask.”

  As they were leaving the scene, they didn’t see Wintergreen crawl across the ground, and they certainly didn’t see him make a desperate grab for his spare pistol. They had no idea what was going on until they heard the man in pink shout, “No, don’t!”

  By that time, it was too late. They had no warning before the third shot pierced the sky. This time, Wintergreen’s pistol found its mark. A red ring of blood seeped onto the shoulder of Tristan’s tan coat, and his legs collapsed beneath him.

  Andrew fell to his knees beside his fallen friend, gasping. “Dishonorable bastard!” he shouted. Grabbing Tristan’s pistol, he aimed it toward the hill’s summit, where Lord Wintergreen was leering at them.

  Weakness took hold of Tristan almost immediately. He could hardly force his lips to move. “Andrew… don’t…”

  “Why not? Tristan!” Andrew shrieked. “That’s the second time he’s shot at you while your back is turned! He deserves it! Look!” Andrew stared, horrified, at the patch of blood on his friend’s coat. It grew wider by the second. “It almost hit your heart…”

  “I…” Tristan’s thought was momentarily destroyed by a surge of pain. “I… don’t… want you in any sort of trouble because of me.”

  “You don’t know how much I want this trouble! I want to shoot that man between the eyes!”

  “Don’t. I just want to… get back to Leona.” Tristan grimaced, because he was in a great deal of pain, and hated to think of what Leona would think.

  “Are you happy now, you coward?!” Andrew shouted at Wintergreen, who looked like he was being held back by his second. “Your friend is twice the man you are, and he’s probably a eunich!”

  “Andrew…” Tristan tried to call his friend’s attention back to him.

  “Alright, I’ll go.” Andrew slung one of Tristan’s arms around his shoulder and rose to his feet, hoisting his friend along with him. “But you’re crazy if you think I’ll let that man get away with what he did. I’m contacting the magistrate as soon as we get back!”

  “I think I’d like you to contact a doctor first,” Tristan said, chuckling in spite of himself. As they shuffled back to their horses, Tristan thought he was moving rather well, considering the fact he’d just been shot and his health was already poor as it was. He mounted his horse with relative ease and managed to ride back without slumping over in his saddle, which made him think he wasn’t going to die from this.

  Until he collapsed in front of Aunt Bess’ cottage.

  * * *

  “Leona!” Mary dashed into her mistress’ bedroom without knocking. She was flustered to the point that she wasn’t thinking clearly.

  Leona, who had just risen from bed, sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Mary? What? What is it?”

  “It’s…” Mary’s hand flew to her mouth, and her teeth clenched her knuckles. When she managed to collect herself, she said, “It’s Lord Randall! He’s been shot!”

  An instant panic took hold of Leona’s heart. So, he’d participated in the duel after all? “How is he? Is he alright?”

  “I’m afraid it’s very bad, miss. Very bad…”

  Leona sprung from bed, grabbed a shawl, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Without another thought, she took Mary by the elbow and said, “Quick… you have to take me to him!”

  Mary seized Leona’s wrist and led her out of the room and down the hall, to a small sitting room at the front of the house. Inside the sitting room, Tristan’s motionless body was sprawled across a sofa. Bess was standing over him, her hands clasped over her mouth in shock. Together, Bess and Andrew had already divested some of Tristan’s more constricting attire. Now that his coat had been removed, it was even more horrifying to see how much blood had soaked his shirt.

  “Tristan!” Leona ran to his side and fell to her knees. “Tristan! Tristan!” When he didn’t respond, she took his wrist and shook it. When she noticed how pale he was, a cold dread clenched her insides.

  “He’s not responding to anything,” Bess explained. “He’s out cold.”

  “Tristan!” Tears exploded from Leona’s eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. After their magical moment last night, the vision of her dying husband was like something out of a nightmare. “Please… he needs a doctor!”

  Bess stood beside Leona and gave her a gentle pat on the arm. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but nothing could calm Leona’s fear. She was utterly inconsolable. “Mr. Lamb’s already sent for a doctor, dear. There’s nothing we can do but wait.”

  With a hysterical squeal, Leona pressed her palm against Tristan’s wound. “We have to stop the bleeding!”

  Bess wrapped an arm around Leona’s and attempted to lift her off the floor. But she wouldn’t budge. “Try to stay calm. The doctor doesn’t live far from here. He should be here in just a few minutes, dear.”

  If Bess called her dear one more time, Leona thought she might scream. She certainly felt like screaming. Instead, she laid her head on Tristan’s stomach and wept. What if this was it? What if he stopped breathing? What if his comfort and love was taken away from her? What if they put him in a box in the ground and she never saw him again?

  She knew he was dying when she fell in love with him, but she didn’t expect him to die like this! And certainly not as soon as this!

  A few minutes later, Andrew stepped into the room with the doctor, a dignified-looking man with a forehead full of wrinkles, which seemed to deepen when he laid eyes on Tristan. Bess motioned for Mary’s help; together, they scooped Leona off the floor and carried her aside, giving the doctor his space.

  “Let’s go… we need to give the doctor some time,” said Bess. “We shouldn’t stay here.”

  “But I don’t want to leave him!” Leona rotated her shoulders in an attempt break away from the other women. “Tristan!”

  “We should rest in another room, miss,” Mary suggested with a sigh. “If we stand around in there, we won’t be helping one bit.”

  They guided Leona to a room across the hall. As soon as they let go of her, Leona stomped across the floor and sat in a rickety chair, arms crossed. She raked a hand across her face in frustration, forgetting it was covered in Tristan’s blood. “Mary…” she whispered. “What if I… what if I lose him?”

  “I don’t know, miss.”

  “I should be there with him! What if he dies? What if these are his final moments, and I’m not there with him? I don’t understand why you won’t let me be with him!”

  Bess sat beside her and patted her on the back. “We can return in a few minutes, but I think it’s best if we give the doctor a few minutes alone with him.”

  Leona raked her hands over her head in frustration, unintentionally tracking blood through her hair. When she realized what she was doing, she also realized she didn’t care. The status of her hair was the last thing that mattered to her right now. She tried to picture a life without Tristan, but she couldn’t. She tried to remember what her life was like before she met him, but she couldn’t. She clasped her hands together and prayed with every fiber of her being. She prayed for more time—just a few more years. That’s all she wanted. With all her heart, she begged a higher power to help Tristan overcome his poor condition.

  She wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed when the doctor came into the room, because her mind was swimming with doomed thoughts. And she could only hear part of what he was saying, because there w
as a buzzing in her head that drowned out all other noise.

  “I’m afraid it’s not good… lost a lot of blood…”

  Leona closed her eyes and tried to listen to what he was saying. She was waiting for the doctor to offer her a few words of hope. That’s usually what doctors did, wasn’t it? They told you how terrible it was, and then they’d offer a solution.

  “I’m sorry to say… he probably won’t make it.”

  Leona tightened her fingers over her lips, stifling a wail. So it was worse than she thought. Oh God, how horrible.

  “Lady Randall, are you aware of your husband’s condition?” the doctor went on. “His heart is very weak, and enlarged, and the sound is irregular… and to be honest, I think the shot might’ve grazed it. I’ve stitched him up as well as I can, but I’m not sure it’ll be enough to save him. His degenerative heart disease would have been a problem to begin with, but with the injury on top of it…and the loss of blood…”

  Leona sighed. If he had more bad news, she wished he would just come out with it.

  “All we can do now is hope the fever breaks.” The doctor discouragingly shook his head. “If it doesn’t, it’ll be a miracle if he lasts through the night.”

  Chapter Thirty Three

  When Leona went back to the sitting room to see Tristan, she was still shaken by the doctor’s news. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, the result of ten minutes of streaming tears. To her surprise, Tristan was awake when she walked in. In spite of his poor state, his eyes lit up when he saw her. When his lips twitched into a smile, a fresh wave of tears sprung from Leona’s eyes.

  “Tristan…” She fell to her knees beside him and laid her head against his stomach. “Tristan… Tristan… why?!”

  Weakly, he lifted a hand and ran his fingers through her hair. “My love…” His eyes fluttered when he spoke. It was obvious he was in a great deal of pain. “I’m so sorry.”

  “There’s no need to apologize, Tristan. Andrew told me everything that happened. It’s not your fault!”

  “I…” His voice was interrupted by an agonized wheeze. “I shouldn’t have gone.”

  Leona buried her face in Tristan’s shirt .She didn’t care that it was covered in blood; she just wanted to be as close to him as she could. She wanted to enjoy every second with him, in case the worst was going to happen. She wanted to remember how it felt to have his hand on her head, touching her hair, caressing her skin. She used all her senses to soak in the moment—so she could remember it forever.

  “I know what the… doctor thinks,” Tristan spoke between labored breaths. “He thinks I’m going to die.”

  “Tristan, that’s…” She wanted to protest, but she knew the doctor might be right. The doctor’s words pervaded her. “There’s still a chance your fever might go down. You might pull through it.”

  “If I don’t… I love you.”

  Leona lifted her head from his chest and wiped away her tears. “If you do pull through, you better love me twice as much!”

  Not only did he muster a weak chuckle, he also managed to lift a hand to wipe her tear-stained face. “Of course. I’ll always love you. I meant to say… I want you to know that I love you.” He looked over his wife’s shoulder, where Bess and Mary were standing in the doorway. Like Leona, they were wiping away tears from their own faces. “I wish everyone would stop crying for me. It makes me feel… bad.”

  “If you feel bad, you should get better!”

  “I’ll… try,” Tristan said. He chuckled again, which made him cough, and the cough made him wince in pain. “Where’s Andrew?”

  “He went to see the magistrate. He seems to want revenge on Wintergreen, and I can hardly blame him. If I wasn’t so worried about you, I’d want my own revenge,’ said Leona. “Well… worried doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel right now. I’m terrified, Tristan. I’m terrified of losing you.”

  He gave her hair another stoke, though it pained him to move at all. “When Andrew gets back… I have a request.”

  “Request? What is it? I’ll do anything!”

  Tristan closed his eyes, but only for a second. He was fully aware of everything around him, even though he was feverish. He knew if he kept his eyes closed too long, he would make everyone worry, so he forced them open again. “I want to go back to Randall Hall.”

  Leona was momentarily silenced by his request. Had he already resigned himself to death? Was he referring to Randall Hall as the desired place of his burial? Her heart quaked at the thought. “When?”

  “Tonight. Now.”

  “But, Tristan! You can’t seriously think of traveling in the state you’re in! I’m sure the doctor would strongly advise against it!”

  “I don’t care what the doctor says.” Tristan attempted to sit up, his face twisted in pain. “I want to take you home with me.”

  “Randall Hall is a long way from here… I’m… I just don’t…”

  “You don’t think I’ll survive the ride,” Tristan finished for her. “I’m not delirious, if that’s what you think.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that, and that’s not what I think! Please don’t speak of death so casually! It breaks my heart!”

  Tristan was silent for several seconds. Each breath he took was an obvious struggle. “As soon as Andrew gets back…” he began, “I want to leave.”

  Leona looked back at Bess for support, but the older woman just shook her head in bewilderment. She wanted Bess to offer some words of wisdom—to talk Tristan out of his madness.

  “I’ll speak with the doctor. I’ll ask him about Tristan’s request,” said Bess, staring solemnly at her nephew for several seconds. “Tristan, I really wish you’d reconsider. Your recovery will be hard enough as it is. Traveling won’t help matters.”

  “According to the doctor, there won’t be a recovery,” Tristan said, sounding quite lucid despite his pain and fever. “If I’m going to pass away, I want to do it at the place I’m most familiar with.” He reached over to take Leona’s hand; his own hand trembled as it encompassed her fingers. “I want to go back to the place where I fell in love with you. As soon as Andrew gets back, we’re leaving.”

  Leona sighed. “And I suppose I have no say in the matter?”

  “Only if you’d refuse the request of a dying man,” he said, forcing his lips to turn upward.

  But his smile did little to comfort her. Leona rose to her feet and lowered her head. “Then I… need to pack my things.”

  When Leona left the sitting room, a fresh wave of tears flowed from her eyes. Mary tried to offer a few words of sympathy as they traveled down the hall, but Leona didn’t care to listen. No whispered condolences or misplaced optimism could ease her sadness. Leona’s sorrow made her so weak, Mary had to wrap Leona’s arm around her shoulders and carry half her weight. She was practically dragging her along.

  When Leona returned to her bedchamber, she collapsed into Mary’s arms and sobbed on her shoulder. She had many reasons to cry, but nothing compared to this. She would never be happy again. Not without Tristan.

  “Sit down, miss,” Mary suggested. “Just lie down on the bed, and I’ll gather your things.”

  “No.” Leona dabbed her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. “I’ll help you. I’ll help. I need to get my mind off of this.” With trembling hands, she plucked some of her undergarments off the floor and transferred them to her valise. “What am I going to do, Mary?”

  “I don’t know.” Mary carefully folded one of Leona’s gowns, which was more difficult than usual—her hands were trembling too. “I’m so sorry, Leona.”

  Mary’s dispensed formalities made Leona’s lips twitch into a momentary half-smile. Even if Mary was her servant, she considered her a friend. Right now, Leona needed a friend, not a maid.

  They gathered Leona’s belongings as quickly as they could. For once, even Molly was acting kind. She met them outside Leona’s room and insisted on carrying her baggage to the carriage.

  A few minutes
later, Andrew helped Tristan into the carriage. Andrew’s gaze met Leona’s, and he saw the doubt in her eyes. With a shake of his head, he said, “I know you think this is crazy, my lady, and I’m inclined to agree with you. But I know better than to deny the man what he wants.”

  “Ah… you’re a good man, Andrew Lamb,” Tristan croaked, struggling to sit upright in the seat. “Despite all your obvious flaws, you’re still a good man.”

  “Look at you! You’re as pale as death, and you’re still harassing me!”

  “And I plan to harass you until I take my last breath!” Tristan threatened his friend.

  Leona’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe, in spite of everything, her husband’s sense of humor was still intact. Somehow, Tristan and Andrew were bantering as if everything was normal—as if one of them wasn’t on his deathbed.

  “If you think Tristan looks bad, you should see that Wintergreen fellow!” Andrew said with a chuckle. “Actually… unfortunately… I’m sure he looks as pretty as ever. I wish I could say I landed a few punches on him, as it would have given me great pleasure, but the truth isn’t as dramatic as that. However, I'm sure he's enjoying the gaol right about now.”

  When the carriage started to move, Tristan noticeably winced. Even the tiniest movement pained him. Noticing his pain, Leona reached over and took his hand. She held it on her lap and stroked it, and even used his hand to wipe away her tears. She just wanted this nightmare to be over. She would have given anything if she could’ve just closed her eyes and woken up in yesterday.

  “Andrew,” Tristan weakly uttered his friend’s name.

  Andrew leaned forward in his seat, waiting for Tristan to continue.

  “I need you… to do something for me.”

  Tristan’s eyelids started to flutter, so Andrew cautioned him, “No… don’t close your eyes! You remember what the doctor said? Losing consciousness would be a very bad thing!”

  Tristan forced his eyes open wider. If Death was determined to descend on him, he was determined to fight it as long as he could. “Listen to me, Andrew,” he continued. “I need you to look after Leona for me.”