Page 72 of Her Wily Duke

Raising himself gingerly to a sitting position, with Fitzherbert’s assistance, Benedict leaned in for a kiss. It was the first kiss they had shared since their wedding and the sensation of it warmed Ariana’s whole body.

She wanted to get him home and healed. She could feel her heart hammering at the prospect of all of the things they had yet to do together.

***

Fortunately, Benedict and James had left the carriage near the ford, at the bottom of the hill, so James did not have to carry him far.

Now, as he slipped in and out of awareness, each time that James carrying him jolted his wound, he was grateful that the carriage was close. He was even more grateful to be settled inside it, cradled against Ariana’s side.

“You just settle there for a moment – wrap him well in the carriage blankets – I’ll see if I can find Lord Jasper – either we’ll have him to the magistrate to be tried for murder, or we’ll have his body to return to his family. Whichever it is, I’ll feel better knowing exactly where he is, and what state he’s in.”

James turned away into the darkness, and Benedict shivered as Ariana dug into the under-seat storage and pulled out two blankets. It was not long before James returned. Through a haze of pain, Benedict heard Ariana speak to him as she looked out the door.

“Did you find…? Oh…”

“I did, as you can see. God has seen fit to deal out justice – his neck is broken from where he landed on the rocks below, and the river had tumbled him down to catch in the shallows by the ford. I’ll get him into the luggage compartment at the back of the carriage, and we’ll tell the whole of it to the magistrate when we get back to Darkmire Abbey.”

Benedict, certain with those words that all danger to Ariana was past, allowed unconsciousness to claim him as they rolled slowly back along the roads to Darkmire Abbey through the moonless night.

Chapter Fourteen

Finally, they drew up outside the house, with Benedict coming mostly awake as they did. He shifted, cried out in pain, then wisely stayed as still as possible while the others arranged things. Within minutes of their arrival, chaos reigned.

Mrs Haversham regarded him with a disapproving look, and sent a footman off to fetch the physician from the next town. James carried him into the house, and up the long stairs to his bedchamber, Ariana ever at his side.

When Mrs Haversham appeared there a few minutes later, bearing a bowl of steaming water and a pile of cloths, she fixed her eyes on Ariana, and the words slipped from her mouth as if she could not manage forbearance, despite her position in the household.

“What have you caused now, you irresponsible woman? You’ve made his life a misery from the day he married you!”

Ariana drew herself up, and Benedict felt his heart swell with pride.

“Mrs Haversham, you forget yourself. My husband is a hero. He was shot, whilst rescuing me from almost certain death. I freely admit that I wish I had not allowed myself to be trapped, that I had been wiser – but if anyone is to berate me for that, it will be him, not you. Please, let us put that hot water to good use and clean his wound, now that we have him here where we can see what we are doing.”

Mrs Haversham shut her mouth sharply, her features etched with a combination of shock and the beginnings of respect.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Across the room, about to slip out the door, James spoke.

“I’ll be off to deal with the other matter, and fetch the magistrate, as well as send word to Lord Jasper’s family.”

Mrs Haversham spun around at those words, but James was gone before she could ask for more information. She turned back, and set the bowl of water down on a side table as Ariana set about cutting Benedict’s coat away from his shoulder.

***

The magistrate came, and asked them all some questions, even as the physician worked on Benedict, then went away, shaking his head.

“Sorry business this. It’s Lord Wittering I pity the most… I’ll arrange it all from here, Your Grace.”

Then he was gone, and Ariana turned back to grasp Benedict’s hand as he suffered the pain of the physician digging the bullet from his flesh.

She barely slept for the next week, as Benedict endured the ongoing pain of the wound. He became feverish, and she bathed his heated flesh, speaking to him as she did, although he barely seemed to know her, half the time.

All the while, she prayed. Prayed that he would recover, that he would forgive her, that they might have the life together she now dreamed of. Her fears before seemed foolish, and she cast them aside, like the last haunting shadows of her father’s beliefs about life.

Darkmire Abbey no longer seemed oppressive, although she rather suspected that the ghosts remained, watching them. Somehow, that no longer worried her. All that mattered was Benedict.

Finally, his fever broke, and as he dropped into true sleep, she collapsed onto the bed beside him, curled against his side, and allowed herself to sleep too.