Chapter Fourteen
“You’re absolutely sure?”
Matthew towered over an unmoving Mr. Edgars while Cassandra sat straight-backed on a settee in the blue sitting room.
Jasmine and Aunt Valentine sat on either side of her, holding her hands.
If not for their comforting presence, she might have fallen apart.
Her muscles ached from the strain, but she refused to crumple in a room full of people.
It was humiliating enough that she burst into tears in the forest.
Lord Bolderwood stood in front of the room, speaking in hushed tones with Lord Dorchester.
The Earl insisted upon staying until the doctor arrived, which surprised Cassandra, as his actions had been more than thorough.
As soon as they arrived at the manor, he sent his fastest rider into Ringwood—a market town over an hour away by carriage—and had immediately cleared the blue room, ordering that all drapes and doors be closed for privacy.
Surely these measures were overboard. She was fine, as she repeatedly stated, but Lord Bolderwood’s powerful glare silenced her protests. When he studied her now, she saw an emotion cross his face that she didn’t have the depth to recognize.
Concern? Puzzlement? Irritation?
The only emotion Matthew seemed to feel was belligerent, and Seth….
Seth.
With his arms crossed and his back against the door, he stood sentinel, blank-faced but radiating displeasure.
Whenever someone would knock, he would open the door half an inch, give a terse, “She’s fine,” and close it in their face.
His scowl matched Lord Bolderwood’s, deadly enough to scare away whoever had the audacity to intrude.
At that moment, there was a strong resemblance between them. Questioning it only made her head hurt.
But her heart didn’t care who Seth’s parents were, or where he came from.
Her heart wanted his hands in hers, wanted to lean into his strength, to be held, and accept the comfort she knew would be there.
She tried not to stare at him, because for the first time, she truly saw him.
He hadn’t looked her way since he kissed her.
And how he kissed her! Really kissed her!
With passion and desperation, and she had kissed him back.
When she imagined her first kiss, she thought perhaps it would be sweet and chaste, stolen at a ball, or with her future husband on their wedding night.
At the very least, she thought she would have some control over it.
In an instant, Seth stole that from her and she couldn’t even bring herself to be angry.
Not when she decidedly controlled their second kiss.
Grabbing onto him and bringing him back to her had been as natural as breathing.
‘The heat of the moment,’ she had heard it called. When someone loses control of reason and abandons themselves to instinct. She never thought she would have experienced such a sensation, and with him. And now….
What were they now?
It wasn’t as if they would start courting.
Cassandra choked back a deprecating scoff.
It wasn’t possible. Their circumstances hadn’t changed—far from it—as Colonel Bishop’s success that morning was determined as a legal win.
The three competitors were on even standing, and no matter the outcome, Seth would disappear from her life the moment the contest concluded.
Wealthy or not, he was still a commoner, and she needed to marry a gentleman.
For the family.
For Caroline.
Nothing had changed, and yet, everything had changed.
She felt bone-weary. Her stomach growled, a loud reminder that she skipped breakfast.
“Colonel Bishop took one shot, and it pierced the lung,” Mr. Edgars repeated, maintaining composure. “Inventory was taken before and after the hunt, as I’ve stated before. We are following protocol to the letter, my lord.”
“Where was Duke Kendall?” Matthew’s eyes narrowed.
Mr. Edgars’ face turned purple.
“You dare accuse—!”
“Rounds don’t appear from thin air!” Matthew’s words sliced the air. “No one else was armed!”
“Perhaps a poacher,” Mr. Edgars suggested, nose sniffing up.
“A poacher?!” Matthew’s booming yell echoed and Cassandra cringed. She understood the need for answers, but nothing could be done. It was a trophy stag. Even she knew that when she saw it. There were tracks everywhere. If there was a poacher, they would never find them.
“Cooper.”
All eyes turned to Seth.
“You’re being loud.” He looked at Cassandra pointedly, and her heart beat a steady taptaptap in her chest, but then he looked away.
Pursing his lips, Matthew dropped into a chair and crossed his arms, seething.
Jasmine’s jaw dropped. Aunt Valentine watched intently, as did Lord Bolderwood.
Mr. Edgars didn’t look surprised in the slightest.
In the break of Matthew’s tirade, her stomach growled once more.
With an aggravated noise not unlike when he ripped her skirt off, Seth left the room, closing the door behind him with a deliberate snap.
An empty, lonely feeling came over her when he was gone, but she tamped it down.
She wasn’t weak, and the danger had passed.
She didn’t need him with her. And so, against the complaints of her body, Cassandra stiffened her spine.
Shortly after, there was a knock on the door.
“About time,” her brother said under his breath, allowing the doctor inside.
An elderly man with ashen hair, a lean build, and round spectacles introduced himself as Dr. Farnsworth. He placed a leather medical case on the tea table and spoke to Cassandra as if she were a child, “I hear you had quite the scare today, can you tell me what happened?”
“Wouldn’t we all like to know?” Matthew grumbled.
Cassandra shot him a glare.
Having had enough, Aunt Valentine stood tall, pointed at the door, and commanded, “Out!”
“I’m not leaving my sister.” Matthew stood at full height in response, with a protective snarl, and it looked as though Aunt Valentine would slap him.
“You will not talk to me that way, Matthew Cooper,” she ground out with a furious fire in her eyes. “Depart this room before I throw you from it.”
“I’ll have to agree. For the lady’s modesty.” Dr. Farnsworth met the eyes of everyone in the room one at a time and said, “I’ll need to examine her torso.”
Matthew blanched, averted his gaze and said, “I’ll be right outside.”
A silent Lord Dorchester followed him from the room. On his way out, Lord Bolderwood stopped to speak in Dr. Farnsworth’s ear. The doctor nodded in response. With only Jasmine and Aunt Valentine left in the room, the two women helped her out of the top of her dress.
Exposed to a stranger, Cassandra fought the urge to cover herself, but glancing at her ribs, she gasped. Blue and purple bruising extended from under her breasts to the center of her stomach. As the doctor applied pressure, Cassandra choked and flinched away, exhaling in a sharp hiss.
Dr. Farnsworth clucked and sighed.
“The bruises are severe, but nothing appears to be broken,” he said. “Apply a willow-bark salve twice a day. Warm baths with rosemary should ease some pain, warm, mind you, not hot. No stays or restrictive clothing for the next three days, at least. I recommend bed rest today and tomorrow.”
No stays for three days? Two days of bedrest?!
No. Absolutely not.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, he added, “Considering the morning you’ve had, I believe a sedative would be best.”
From his case, he brought forth an amber bottle of liquid and uncorked it. A pungent, all too familiar smell of bitter alcohol and earth assaulted her nose. Laudanum. She was in pain, but not that much. She did not need opium.
“That isn’t necessary. It doesn’t hurt,” Cassandra lied as he filled a dropper with the dark liquid.
“If not for the pain, for the mind, my lady,” he said. “It will facilitate restful sleep.”
“I’m fine,” she argued again. “There’s nothing wrong with my mind. And, I’m exhausted. I’m sure I’ll fall asleep right away.”
“You went through something dreadful, dear,” Aunt Valentine said softly, taking her face in her hands.
She kissed her on both cheeks and met her eyes.
“Do it for me, it’ll make me feel better.
” With the concern in Aunt Valentine’s face, Cassandra couldn’t refuse her, and nodded.
Aunt Valentine turned to the doctor and said, “A small dose, sir.”
A few drops of putrid tasting medicine later, Aunt Valentine eased Cassandra’s head onto her shoulder. A giddy, dizzy feeling came over Cassandra and the room spun. Voices warbled around her. Closing her eyes, she sighed as she felt consciousness slipping away.
The door opened and closed as the doctor left, and she surrendered to sleep.
***
After sending a tray of food to Cassandra’s room, Seth found Adrian Hollingsworth biding his time in his father’s study.
He was five years younger than Seth, but he held himself like a man twice his age.
There was a calculating coldness to his demeanor.
If a soul existed within him, it was long since smothered.
The last time Seth had seen Adrian, he was well on his way to building an empire of intelligence networks in the London underground.
The Bow Street Runners answered to him, as well as several private detective firms and a collection of thugs that worked in the shadows.
God only knew how far his reach extended now.
Or how dirty his hands are.
Adrian would have the answers that Seth sought, or he would know how to find them.
“Who is Ezekiel Sanderson?”
“An acquaintance of my father’s,” Adrian answered at once.
Expecting this, Seth asked a more deliberate question, “Is there a reason that someone might want Lord Bolderwood’s acquaintance dead?”
Adrian’s face remained impassive. It was endlessly frustrating that Seth couldn’t read the man, leaving him to decipher his cryptic words and simple sentences.
After some time, Adrian said, “You believe the round was fired intentionally.”