Scandal of the Season

by Christie Kelley

  Feeling blood, he felt a sense of relief. As he moved her slightly to check on the exit wound, he realized how wrong he’d been. Nausea threatened to overcome him at the sight of the whip marks.

  “Hell, Ainsworth, call the surgeon now,” he ordered.

  “Home,” Victoria mumbled. “I want to go home.”

  “Shh,” Anthony murmured to her. “Save your strength.”

  He stared at her as tears filled his eyes. He had never seen anyone so pale. Pressing a piece of linen from the pillow to her wound, he prayed as he never had in his life.

  “Somerton, I don’t want to die here. Take me home.”

  He looked up at the ceiling and pressed his lips together. He could not deny her the only thing she’d truly ever asked of him. “Brentwood, help me with her and send the surgeon to her home.”

  As he picked her up in his arms, she fainted again. He could only hope it was from the pain and not loss of blood already. Brentwood helped him get her into Ainsworth’s carriage.

  “Somerton,” Brentwood said then stopped. “I’m dreadfully sorry.”

  “She will be all right.” Even as he said the words, he knew it was likely a lie.

  The ride to her home was a nightmare for him. She came in and out of consciousness, moaning in pain. Anthony held her tight in his arms as tears burned down his cheeks. He never should have gotten her involved in this mess.

  She blinked her eyes open for a moment and smiled at him. “You saved me,” she whispered.

  “Why, Victoria?” he said hoarsely. “Why didn’t you tell them my name?”

  “I love you,” she whispered. “They would have killed you.” She fainted again.

  She loved him? That was why she didn’t give up his name. Tears burned down his cheeks as he stared at her. He had treated her like every other woman, expecting her to hurt him.

  But she hadn’t.

  She had put her own life at risk for him out of love. Love! Until he met her, he had never had an idea about love. But now? Now he understood how much he loved her. How his life would never be the same without her. How his life would never be better without her.

  Her pain was his fault. He would never forgive himself for bringing her on this mission. As his own shoulder throbbed, he knew it was nothing compared to the pain of being whipped and shot.

  The carriage stopped in front of her house on Maddox Street. The driver opened the door and helped Anthony out with her still in his arms.

  “Open the door, then go next door and tell Lady Whitely that Somerton needs her over here now.” He stared at the driver. “Do not accept a no answer for any reason. I don’t care if you have to drag her off a man.”

  The driver’s shocked expression finally wore off. “Yes, my lord.”

  Anthony kicked at the door to Victoria’s home until a middle-aged woman opened it. “The surgeon is on his way. Boil water and get fresh linens up to her bedroom as fast as you can.”

  “Oh my, what happened?”

  “She was shot.” And he didn’t want to think about the other possibilities of what might have happened. He walked slowly up the stairs to avoid causing her any further pain.

  She blinked her eyes open as he placed her on her bed. “Thank you for bringing me home, Somerton.”

  “Don’t talk, Victoria. The surgeon will be here soon and get that ball out of you.”

  “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered. “I’m so afraid.”

  “I won’t leave you, I promise.”

  She nodded but tears fell from her eyes. “I told Lady Farleigh it was bad luck to bring the holly in before Christmas Eve.”

  “What?”

  She only shook her head.

  He bent over and kissed the tears off her face. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “This is all my fault.”

  “Oh Lord,” his mother’s voice sounded from the door. “What happened to her?”

  “She was shot.”

  “By who?”

  He shook his head. “It’s a very long story but Lady Farleigh shot her.”

  “I told you to leave her alone, Anthony.” His mother came over to the bed and sat on the edge. Gently, she pushed back gold strands from Victoria’s forehead. Anthony barely remembered how she used to do that to him as a child.

  The older woman entered the room with a gasp. “Lady Whitely!”

  “Maggie, she needs cool fresh water for her brow. Go get it now. If you need ice go next door and tell them I sent you.”

  Maggie ran out of the room.

  Victoria blinked her eyes open again. “Lady Whitely?”

  “Shh, dear. You will be all right. The surgeon is coming. Just remember all you have to live for, the children, your home, your friends…Anthony.”

  Tears fell down the sides of her cheeks. “He hates me,” she said as if she didn’t know he was in the room. “H—he thinks Bronwyn is our child.”

  “Hush, I corrected him on his misunderstanding,” his mother said in a soothing tone.

  Maggie rushed back into the room. “The surgeon’s here, ma’am.”

  “Everyone get off that bed,” he ordered. “My name is Mr. Michaels.”

  The doctor walked over to the bed and examined the wound. Victoria howled as he probed the wound, and it took every ounce of effort for Anthony not to kick the man out. He stood by the bed with his hands fisted tightly.

  “The ball is in deep but luckily it is in muscle.” He looked around the room at the people gathered. “Lady Whitely, I need your assistance. The rest of you need to leave the room.”

  “I am not going anywhere,” Anthony stated.

  “Perhaps it would be best if you let the surgeon do his work without you glaring at him every time she moans,” his mother suggested softly.

  “I will not leave her. I promised her.”

  She nodded in understanding. “Mr. Michaels, Lord Somerton will stay.”

  The surgeon pulled out his tools but shook his head. “Very well, but I did warn you.”

  The man set to work on the wound as Anthony clasped Victoria’s hand in his. “Be brave, Victoria,” he murmured. But as she groaned in pain and clutched his hand tighter, he wondered how brave she could be.

  “Don’t worry, my lord, the ladies usually faint before I get too far into the process.”

  Was that really supposed to make him feel better? Victoria moaned again and tried to twist away.

  “Don’t just sit there, man. Hold her down,” Mr. Michaels ordered. “I can’t have her move when I go in for the ball.”

  Anthony placed a hand on her chest and shoulder to hold her still. The surgeon took out something from his bag that looked like long tweezers. Anthony glanced away unable to watch the woman he loved going through such pain. He had been shot one time where the ball didn’t exit and the pain had been unbearable.

  As the surgeon placed the object into the wound, Victoria screamed and tried to move. Anthony held on to her so the man could work.

  “Look at me, Victoria,” he said softly. “Just look at me.”

  She did as he suggested but he wondered if she could see through the tears. Her eyes widened slightly. “I love you,” she whispered and fainted again.

  “There, it’s so much better when they just give in and faint,” Mr. Michaels commented. “And here we are.” He pulled out the ball and handed it to Anthony.

  He wanted to throw the damned thing across the room. Instead, he placed the bloodied object on the bed. He watched as the doctor poured a little whisky into the wound and then stitched it up.

  “She was also whipped,” he said once the surgeon had finished dressing the wound.

  Mr. Michaels rolled her over onto her side and cleaned the wounds on her back. “Who did this to her?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Two are dead and the other will hang for this and other crimes.”

  “Good,” the surgeon mumbled. He finished and laid her gently back against the pillows. “You need your wound cleaned, too.”

  �
�Will she live?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

  Mr. Michaels cleared his throat and cleaned Anthony’s wound. “If she survives the night, she has a chance. She lost a good deal of blood. But if the wound becomes septic, she might not make it.”

  “What can I do?”

  The surgeon covered Anthony’s shoulder and shook his head. “Pray.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Anthony prayed all night as Victoria slipped in and out of consciousness. Even when she was awake, she did not appear to notice him sitting by her bed holding her hand. He made every deal he could think of with God just to allow her to live. He promised he would be a much better person. He wouldn’t drink to excess. He would even consider returning to church.

  By morning, he was exhausted and she seemed no better. He touched her forehead and found no trace of fever. His mother slipped back into the room and put a hand on his good shoulder.

  “How is she?”

  “About the same. She wakes but doesn’t seem to realize where she is or that I am even here.”

  “But she is still alive, Anthony.”

  He nodded, afraid to voice his concerns that she still might not make it. He knew it could take a few days before the fever set in. And once it did, her chance of survival dropped considerably.

  God, but he hated the Christmas season. This was just one more example of how bad things always seemed to happen to him in December.

  “You need to rest. Go next door and sleep in my room. No one will disturb you.”

  “I can’t, Mother.”

  She blinked quickly as if trying to combat tears. “Anthony, you were shot, too. You could succumb to a fever just as easily as Victoria. Please just go sleep for two or three hours. I promise if anything changes, I will call for you.”

  He knew she was right but couldn’t stand to be so far away. “I will think about it.”

  “Please, Anthony.”

  “I cannot be so far away from her.”

  “Lord Somerton,” Maggie said from the door, “my room is directly above this one. You are welcome to go up there and sleep.”

  “There,” his mother said. “Now go get some rest before I send for a doctor to give you some laudanum.”

  “Very well, but if she awakens I want to know about it.”

  “I will send someone to you.”

  Anthony looked back at Victoria’s pale figure once more before taking his mother’s advice. Maggie led him to an even smaller room. She left and he removed his boots.

  Before he could lie on the bed, the door squeaked open and his muscles tensed. Victoria could not have taken a turn already. Bronwyn peered around the door.

  “Come in, Bronwyn.”

  “Why are you here, Lord Somerton?” she asked with only a slight hesitation.

  “Miss Seaton was hurt. I brought her back here to recover her strength.” He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Why are you here?”

  “Are you going to take me away from her?” She walked into the room and stood by the end of the bed.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I keep dreaming that a man who looks like you is going to take me away.”

  Anthony closed his eyes. She was dreaming. He understood all too well what that meant. Sophie had told him many times that her abilities were not just from her mother. Sophie had taught him to listen to his intuition and trust it. While Genna had never spoken about any of this, he had a feeling Bronwyn shared some of the same abilities.

  He also didn’t know how to reply to her. If Victoria did not live, he would ask his mother if he could care for Bronwyn. If Victoria did recover and agreed to marry him, again, he would request that his sister live with them.

  “I will not take you away from here unless you decide you wish to go with me.”

  “Are you my father?”

  He was so damned tired of the lies. “No, Bronwyn.” He looked directly at the little girl. “I am your brother.”

  “Oh,” she gasped. “I didn’t know I had a brother.”

  “I didn’t know I had another sister until today.”

  Tentatively, she walked closer to him. “What do I call you?”

  “Tony.”

  She smiled up at him shyly. “It’s nice to meet you, Tony.”

  “Yes, it is.” He patted the bed. “Come sit with me for a few minutes.”

  She sat down on the bed next to him. “Are you really a lord?”

  “Yes, I am a viscount and someday will be an earl.”

  “Does that make me a lady?” she asked.

  He blew out a long breath. He had no idea how to answer that question. She was the legitimate daughter of an earl. However, since everyone believed her mother was dead, she could not be considered legitimate. What a confusing mess, he thought.

  “I am really not certain,” he finally said.

  She stared down at her hands. “Oh. I so want to be a lady.”

  He tilted her chin upward. “Being a lady is more than just being born to a peer. Take Miss Seaton, she is more of a lady than many of the women in the ton.”

  “Miss Bronwyn,” Maggie called from the door. “You must leave Lord Somerton alone so he can sleep.”

  “We shall talk again, soon,” Anthony said with a smile to the young girl.

  As Bronwyn left, he lay on the bed his head spinning. So many things were about to change for him. He only prayed Victoria would be there with him to see them.

  By late afternoon, Victoria moaned from the throbbing eating at her shoulder and back. She blinked her eyes briefly but the sunlight was too bright for her to keep them open. The quick look had told her so much. Lady Whitely sat in a chair next to her bed. Maggie was wringing her hands together.

  And Somerton was nowhere in the room.

  He had promised he wouldn’t leave her.

  She fought against the pain, knowing if Lady Whitely saw her discomfiture, she would give her more laudanum. Victoria hated the taste and the way it made her feel. She would rather feel the pain than the strange sensations of the opium.

  But Lady Whitely noticed her slight movements. “Victoria, I know you are awake but wonder why you hide it.”

  Victoria slowly opened her eyes. Thankfully, the sun had hidden behind a cloud, darkening the room enough for her.

  “Should I get him?” Maggie said from the doorway.

  “No, he hasn’t slept all night.” Lady Whitely moved to get a bottle from her nightstand.

  “No,” Victoria moaned looking at the bottle.

  “Shh,” Lady Whitely said in a motherly tone. “Right now, you need to sleep and let your body heal. The laudanum will help you do that.”

  “No,” she groaned again, but Lady Whitely was able to get some down her throat. “Somerton…”

  “Anthony is sleeping in Maggie’s room. He has been with you all night but will make himself sick if he doesn’t sleep.” Lady Whitely replaced a cool cloth on Victoria’s forehead. “We all want you to rest and recover.”

  Victoria had so many questions but her mind whirled from the laudanum.

  Several hours later, Anthony felt slightly revived and returned to Victoria’s room. As soon as he entered, he noticed his mother hovering over Victoria and Maggie running from the room.

  “What is wrong?” he demanded.

  His mother looked back at him and said, “She has a very slight fever. I sent Maggie to get ice and water.”

  He sat on the bed and held Victoria’s warm hand. “How long ago?”

  “She woke two hours ago, and I gave her more laudanum to make her sleep. She wasn’t warm then.”

  Hearing the sound of footsteps, he expected to see Maggie returning with ice. Instead, Sophie stood at the doorway covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Sophie,” he whispered.

  “Anthony, what happened?” She raced to his side and stared down at Victoria.

  “She was shot.” His gaze returned to Victoria’s pale face. “Now a feve
r has set in. I’m sorry. I should have sent a note to you.”

  “I kept waiting for a message from you. The sense of dread I felt continued to grow until I had to find out what happened.”

  “Sophie,” his mother whispered as if testing the name.

  Anthony blew out a breath as the women looked at each other. “It is her, Mother.”

  “Oh,” was all his mother was able to say.

  “Lady Whitely,” Sophie said with a quick curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  His mother nodded and examined her with a critical eye. “You look very much like your father, young lady.”

  “Thank you.” Sophie looked away as if uncomfortable meeting his mother.

  “I don’t blame you, Sophie.” His mother looked directly at her. “I never did.”

  “Thank you, Lady Whitely.”

  Maggie entered the room with a bucket of ice and water. Lady Whitely grabbed the bucket from her and dipped the warm cloth into the water.

  “Let me see the wound,” Sophie said to Lady Whitely. “I know a little about healing herbs and might be able to help.”

  “You do?” Anthony asked.

  She smiled at him. “You do not know everything about me, Anthony.” Lady Whitely moved so Sophie could look at the wound. Sophie slowly removed the dressing and stared at the surgeon’s work.

  Anthony clutched Victoria’s hand tighter as he saw the irritated abrasion.

  “This actually looks all right,” Sophie said with a frown. “I do not understand why this would give her a fever.”

  “Her back,” he and his mother said at the same time.

  “What happened to her back?” Sophie demanded as she gently rolled Victoria onto her side.

  “She was whipped,” Anthony replied.

  “I should never have told you her name.” Sophie looked under the dressing and shook her head. “This one does not look good. I need someone to get a message to the Ladies Selby, Blackburn, and Kendal.”

  “I will do it.” Lady Whitely opened the nightstand and pulled out paper and pen. “What do you need me to say?”

  “Tell them I need them to go to my house and get my healing book and herbs in my study. Avis will know where they are. Then I need them all here to help out.”