Chosen by the Lieutenant (Regency Brides of Convenience series Book 2)

by Anne Herries

  ‘Indeed, no, that would be very bad, would it not?’ Amanda said, moving obligingly into the centre of the open space. ‘I dare say you hope to escape unscathed, but you cannot have thought it through, sir. My fiancé will know it must have been you and he will hunt you down.’

  The marquis gave a titter, his eyes moving so wildly from side to side that it struck Amanda he must have taken leave of his senses. Surely no sane man could expect to kill her when there was a party of ladies and gentlemen within a short distance. How could he hope to escape punishment?

  ‘I hope he may.’ Shearne laughed shrilly. ‘His men have been hunting me for days, but I was too clever for them. I’ve been spying on you, Miss Hamilton. I’ve watched you at your bedroom window, seen your shadow as you undressed...how I should have loved to catch you then, to see the horror in your eyes as I taught you to respect your master.’

  ‘I do not believe that I could learn anything from you,’ Amanda said evenly. Her thoughts were busy as she looked about her. If she could make him look away...there were fallen blocks of stone and she might be able to throw one at his head...but he was moving closer to her and she disliked the look in his eyes. ‘I should never acknowledge you as my master—so why do you not shoot me now?’ Amanda did not know why she was goading him, but something bade her play for time. Inside, she knew that fear of him was almost suffocating her, but her strength of character carried her through. ‘A man like you is hardly worthy of the name...’ Her scorn and loathing made her strong as the pistol in his hand wavered and she saw that he was furious. She was more afraid for her friend than herself, in case Jane came back and he should take his revenge on her, and that kept her nerves steady. ‘You are a fool if you think Phipps will suffer because I am dead. Why should he? I have already made my will naming him as my principal heir—so you will be making him a rich man if you kill me.’

  ‘You scheming, lying whore,’ the marquis screamed at her and made a grab for her arm. She jerked away, terrified of a man who had lost control of his senses and turned to run, but then she heard Jane’s cry and saw that she had come down the stairs and was looking horrified.

  Before Amanda had time to warn her to run back up, a man came through one of the archways and she saw that he had a rifle in his hand, which he had levelled at the marquis.

  ‘Stand away from her, Shearne!’ Brock commanded. ‘You have no hope of escape. My men are all around you. You were followed here, but we lost you in the ruins and we but waited for you to make your move.’

  Shearne ignored his command, grabbing hold of Amanda’s arm and sticking the point of his pistol into the side of her neck. He gave a high-pitched cackle and she stared, fascinated, at the dribble of spittle on his chin. He must have been teetering on the edge of madness and Brock’s arrival had sent him over the edge.

  ‘Miss Field, go back up the tower and stay there until you are told to come down.’ Brock shot the order at the frightened girl and silently she obeyed him. ‘Shearne, I am giving you warning. If you harm Miss Hamilton, you will not live to see the hangman’s noose. I shall shoot you down where you stand the moment you fire your pistol.’

  ‘Damn you!’ Shearne said. With one hand he pushed Amanda to her knees, then raised his pistol and fired straight at Brock. His ball caught him in the shoulder and he reeled back, clutching his hand to it. Amanda saw the red trickling through his fingers and tried to get up, thinking to go to his assistance, but Shearne had drawn another pistol from his pocket, a tiny one, but just as deadly, which he pointed at her head. She heard the click of the hammer as it was drawn back, saw Brock raise his rifle awkwardly to take aim, but before his finger could strike the hammer, the marquis suddenly shrieked in pain and slumped down to his knees, staring at her in shock as the pistol slipped from his hand. Amanda snatched it up and then raised her head to see Phipps approaching from the rear of the building. He must have walked round the ruins to find another entrance and come up on them unawares. It was only as he glanced down at the body of his enemy that she saw a long-handled dagger protruding from the marquis’s back.

  ‘Phipps,’ she murmured, feeling a little sick and shamefully close to fainting. She suddenly realised how close to death she had come and felt an overwhelming desire to weep in his arms. However, she drew a deep breath, knowing she must not give in to the missish desire to break down and cry. Lifting her head with an effort, she said, ‘I am all right. Go to Brock, he is hurt.’

  ‘Shearne did not harm you?’

  ‘No, you were in time. Go to Brock, we must get him to a doctor—I’ll call Jane.’

  She went to the bottom stair and called to her friend, who came down looking very pale and distressed. Amanda held out her hand and Jane took it thankfully.

  ‘It is all right, dearest Jane. Phipps killed him. He was quite mad, you know. I dare say it was the kindest thing, for he would have been incarcerated in Bedlam or some such place of confinement, I imagine.’

  ‘Oh, Amanda,’ Jane said faintly. ‘I was so afraid for you but I could not think of anything to do to help you...’

  ‘Just as well you did not,’ Amanda said in a practical tone. She forced herself not to give way, even though her knees felt weak and her heart was still racing. ‘Poor Major Brockley was shot for his pains and, had Phipps not been extraordinarily clever, I think I should have soon been dead.’

  ‘You are so calm,’ Jane said, looking at her in awe. ‘I thought I should faint, but then Major Brockley shouted at me and I obeyed him.’

  ‘It was quick thinking on his part,’ Amanda said, smiling inwardly, for she was not in the least calm, but knew she must give the appearance of being in command. ‘Now, you must not faint, for I am relying on you to take Mama home and see that she does not worry too much.’

  ‘But where will you be?’

  ‘Mama’s widowed cousin lives not two miles from here in the village we passed earlier, and I think we must take the major there. It is not expected that Cousin Sarah should nurse him, for she is not young, but nursed he must be—and I am perfectly able to do it.’

  She led the way to where Phipps had supported Brock to his feet and put her plan to him. Brock was still conscious and made an unintelligible protest, but Phipps looked at her gratefully.

  ‘It would be best not to transport him too far,’ he agreed. ‘Is there a doctor in the village?’

  ‘Yes, and a good one. Cousin Sarah swears by him. She is a generous, kind woman and I know she will take him in, but she cannot be expected to nurse him. I shall do that just at first—if you do not object?’

  ‘I should be thankful for it. There are things I must see to once we have Brock safe and then I shall send one of the men for his own valet, who was once his batman. Franks will know what to do for the best when he arrives, but until then...’

  ‘Cousin Sarah’s housekeeper and I will manage him,’ Amanda said. ‘I insist on doing what I can, Phipps. He was shot saving my life and even my mama will not think it improper in me to offer my services.’

  In saying that, Amanda was not quite correct, but although Mama did not quite like the idea she saw that her daughter was determined to repay a debt, and, since her affianced husband seemed to be grateful for the suggestion, she could only say that Amanda must remember her modesty and also the major’s.

  ‘I helped to nurse Papa through that fever,’ Amanda said, ‘and I am quite sure that Mrs Miller will make certain that nothing immodest occurs to provoke my blushes, Mama.’

  ‘Well, I have always known you to be a sensible girl,’ Mama said, secretly a little in awe of her daughter, who seemed all at once to have grown beyond her. ‘Providing Cousin Sarah is willing, I can have no objection.’

  Amanda thanked her calmly, ordered Phipps to place Brock in Mama’s comfortable carriage and drive Jane and Mama in his phaeton. She would go with Brock and do what she could to stop the bleeding, as she had already sacrificed her pure cotton shawl by stuffing it inside the major’s coat and tying her friend’s sha
wl over his shoulder to bind him as tight as she could manage, Phipps had nothing to say except that he would not be far behind her.

  * * *

  Cousin Sarah was sitting in her comfortable parlour and rose to the occasion nobly. She ordered that the best guest chamber be prepared for the invalid, a smaller one for Amanda, and then sent her footman running to fetch the doctor, who, she assured them, would be only too willing to oblige them. Brock was almost immediately carried upstairs to the room hastily prepared for him, but as Cousin Sarah told them, she always kept her beds aired just in case she had unexpected visitors.

  Amanda followed the men upstairs and found that Mrs Miller, the housekeeper, had drawn back the covers in preparation. It was decided that only the major’s coat and shirt should be removed, as well as his boots, of course. The coat was cut away ruthlessly, as was the shirt by a determined Amanda, with Phipps and Mrs Miller supporting him as he fell in and out of consciousness. The wound had been bleeding copiously, which made Mrs Miller shake her head and sigh over the poor man. Amanda asked for linen bandages to bind the wound and clean water.

  ‘We have to stop the bleeding and seal the wound,’ Phipps said. ‘If the doctor is from home, he could bleed to death.’

  ‘But what can we do?’

  ‘I’ve taken a ball out of a man before this,’ Phipps said. ‘I need some boiling water, a needle and thread—and clean linens torn into strips.’

  Mrs Miller hurried off to fetch what he needed, the maid following. She returned in a few minutes with the hot water. Watching with scared eyes, she retreated to the far side of the room, obviously reluctant to play any part in what was happening.

  Phipps rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands; he was scrubbing them in cold water when another maid returned with everything he’d asked for.

  ‘Would you rather leave this to me?’ he asked, looking at Amanda.

  ‘No, of course not. I shall assist you,’ she said and brought the bowl containing the knife to him, together with quantities of rolled linen. ‘He may come to as you cut him.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps. Can you hold him steady while I probe for the ball?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  She stood by the bed as Phipps bent over his friend, pressing gently on his uninjured shoulder to hold him steady. The first slash of the knife had Brock rearing up with a scream of agony, but thankfully he fainted again almost at once. Phipps was deft and quick, finding the ball in a few minutes and flicking it out. Amanda removed it and dabbed at the blood oozing from the fresh wound.

  Phipps had left the bedside and she was aware of him threading the needle with white silk. He came back to them and gathered the open flesh into a seam, sewing it quickly like the rolled edge of a blanket. Then Amanda wiped the wound free of blood again and together they pressed a pad of linen over their crude surgery and bound him tightly with bandages. Twice his eyes opened and he cursed them, but then swooned again almost immediately.

  ‘Sorry, old fellow,’ Phipps said. ‘It’s rough and ready, but you’ll do until the doctor gets here.’

  ‘Will he be all right?’ Amanda asked anxiously. She was feeling rather weak and sat down in the chair next to the bed, not wanting him to guess how much she’d been affected. ‘You were so efficient. You’ve done this before, I think?’

  ‘In Spain there was not always a doctor when you needed one; they had too many badly injured men. If it was a simple wound we grew used to doing what we could. Had the wound been deeper or smashed his shoulder bone I could not have helped him—but it was no more than a flesh wound. Our main worry is infection or fever.’

  ‘Thank heaven for it,’ she said. ‘I do not want him to die for my sake, Phipps.’

  ‘You must not worry,’ he said. ‘Brock did what he thought right. We must hope that there will be no fever.’

  ‘When the doctor comes he may be able to advise us on that count...if he ever gets here. It must be half an hour since my cousin sent for him. Time enough for Brock to have bled to death had you not acted so swiftly.’

  ‘And you, Amanda.’

  ‘I did very little. I wish the doctor would come, though I suppose there is not much more he can do.’

  The words had hardly left her lips when the door opened and Mrs Miller entered the room, followed by the doctor and the footman.

  ‘As you see, our dear Dr May is here. And how is the poor gentleman?’ Mrs Miller asked.

  ‘Well, I see we have rather a lot of people here,’ Dr May said. ‘I wish only for one nurse and the gentleman to assist me, if you please.’

  ‘We have done what we can,’ Phipps told him. ‘He was losing a lot of blood so I thought it best to take the ball out and patch him up as best I could.’

  The doctor grunted and asked him to lift Brock, removing the bandage to inspect the wound for himself, then nodded.

  ‘Well, you’ve done a decent job,’ he said grudgingly. ‘He may not thank you for the scar. If it festers, I may have to open the wound and cleanse it—but we’ll leave well alone for now.’ His eyes came to rest on Amanda. ‘This gentleman is going to need nursing—is it your intention to take care of him?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I shall stay to nurse him—’ Amanda stepped forward ‘—and Mrs Miller will help me when she has time. What do you wish me to do for you, sir?’

  ‘Clearly you do not faint at the sight of blood,’ Dr May observed. ‘I’ll redress the wound with a special poultice that will take some of the soreness from the wound and help to prevent infection—but apart from that I think it is mainly rest and care.’

  The bandages in place, Dr May declared himself satisfied. ‘He will do now,’ he said. ‘I shall send you a mixture of my own preparation, which will help with the fever—he will undoubtedly suffer fever and a deal of pain when he does wake. I shall leave you the laudanum, but advise you to stick religiously to the amounts I shall show you—and on no account to give more even if it does not seem to help at first.’

  ‘I know it can be addictive,’ Amanda agreed. ‘One of my uncles had an affliction, which caused him much pain, and he grew reliant on it because well-meaning servants gave him extra doses. You may rely on me to follow your instructions, sir.’

  ‘Well, you seem a remarkably sensible girl,’ he grunted. ‘I shall call tomorrow—and if you need me, send your cousin’s footman and I will come as soon as I am able. It was fortunate that you caught me before I set out on my rounds—but I must do so now, and so I commend him to your care.’

  Amanda had taken careful note of all his instructions, for although he was an abrupt man, sometimes bordering on rude, she thought him a good doctor. After he had gone, she was alone with Phipps. She smiled up at him, and gave him a look of apology.

  ‘I fear I must have ordered you all about at the ruins, but my concern was only for Major Brockley. It was imperative that we got him here before too much blood was lost.’

  She thought that she had acted instinctively, refusing to let herself think or understand how close to death she had come. In thinking only of Brock, she had forgotten her own terror when the marquis had seemed to have her at his mercy.

  ‘For my part I was lost in admiration,’ he said. ‘Miss Field has been a little faint, I understand, your mama quite out of sorts, and I really think I must leave you while I take them both home. It seems wrong to cast everything on your shoulders, Amanda, but it must be for the best. Your mama has said that she will spare us one of your footmen, who may help you in nursing Brock, for there are certainly some things that you ought not to do—and it would impose on your cousin’s housekeeper to ask too much.’

  ‘I am sure Mrs Miller would not object, but one of the footmen would be very useful, for certain tasks are beyond me, I readily admit.’

  ‘I am sorry your day was spoiled, Amanda. We should have taken better care of you.’

  ‘Nonsense. I am quite unharmed, and besides, I am not such a spoiled child that I shall sulk over an abandoned picnic. A man’s life is far more im
portant.’

  ‘You are perfectly right and I can only be grateful. Some ladies would have fainted or gone into hysterics had they been held at gunpoint—not to say dealing with an incident such as this. I do not believe my mother could have handled it, though she is generally very good—at least with our childhood illnesses. This, however, I feel sure would have turned her faint for she cannot bear to see anyone in pain.’

  ‘I fear I have no such romantic notions,’ Amanda replied with a laugh. ‘I have no patience with fainting or screaming when there is an emergency. I am sorry if I have disappointed your notions of gallantry, Phipps. I was very relieved when you so skilfully dispatched the villain that intended to murder me, but to have given way to faintness then would have caused you more bother. I was frightened for a while, but as much for Jane as myself. He was quite mad at the end, you know.’

  ‘I believe there was always a queer streak in the family,’ Phipps acknowledged. He looked at her in a vaguely rueful way, then inclined his head and went out.

  Listening to his footsteps and then the sound of voices, she heard her mother call a brief farewell up the stairs and then everything went quiet. Finding a comfortable chair, she sat where she could keep an eye on her patient, but could also look out of the window at the garden. A few moments later, Mrs Miller brought a tray with a cup of tea and asked her if she needed anything more.

  ‘I could sit with him for a while if you would like to walk in the garden, miss.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am, you are very kind and I may need to call on your services, though Phipps will return with one of our footmen before the day is out—and he will need only a pallet in this room.’

  ‘If I may say so, you have chosen a very pleasant gentleman as your future husband, miss. He was so concerned that he was causing a trouble to my mistress and myself—but we assured him it was not so. We were glad to be able to offer our help to the poor gentleman.’