UNCOMMON DUKE, AN (20 page)

‘Andrew,’ Gabriel muttered and tugged her by the hand, hauling them out into the hall.

Chapter Twenty-One

S
till grasping Olivia’s hand, Gabriel stopped outside their box and scanned the crowd of people stampeding past them on their way to the staircase. Panicked shouts and cries echoed off the walls as people sought out friends and family. A door diagonal from them was open and men were already forming a bucket brigade and throwing water into the smoking room.

This was impossible. He didn’t even know who to look for.

Andrew exited the royal box behind two guards. His knowing gaze shot to Gabriel. He nodded in agreement that this was no coincidence. They needed Andrew out of the theatre quickly before it either burnt down or he was murdered.

A damp woodsy smell filled the hall as panicked people continued to run past them, shouting for their friends and warning everyone to run for their lives. This was a diversion. Gabriel knew it. He was just about to yell to Andrew to return to the royal box, when Olivia tugged at his sleeve.

‘There she is, the woman in black. She’s working with Janvier.’ She was pointing to a tall thin woman with dark hair, standing thirty feet from them staring at Andrew.

Before he could ask about her assumption, the woman pulled a gun from her reticule and aimed it at his brother.

In an instant he was back in the garden in Richmond years earlier. Peter was pointing a gun at him. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t allow you to stop their plan,’ his uncle had said, looking down at him and cocking the hammer of the pistol.

Gabriel closed his eyes at the resignation on his uncle’s face, preparing for the end. The bullet ripped through his torso, taking his breath with it. Then he heard Peter cock back the hammer of the second barrel. He was aiming the gun now at Gabriel’s head. Then suddenly a shot rang out and his uncle fell back. Andrew had come out of nowhere and saved him, killing Peter in the process.

He could never stand by and watch Andrew die. Jumping between the barrel of the woman’s pistol and Andrew, Gabriel tackled his brother to the ground—and felt the burn of a bullet bury itself in his shoulder.

* * *

The crack of gunfire tore through the commotion in the hall, and Olivia watched a number of men tackle the woman in black to the ground. After wrestling the gun out of her hand, they held her firmly to the ground.

‘Murder, murder.’

‘Has His Highness been shot?’

‘We have her. We have the cutthroat.’

‘The Duke of Winterbourne has saved His Highness.’

‘Oh, my God, is he dead?’

That last shout turned her legs to jelly and she looked over at the motionless form of her husband, lying atop Andrew. A stain of dark crimson was spreading near the shoulder of his coat.

Why wasn’t he moving?

She ran to him, dropping to her knees just as he let out an agonised groan of pain.

‘See that she is secure,’ she yelled to the guard closest to her. ‘And do not let them take her anywhere until you hear from His Royal Highness what should be done with her.’

Gabriel lifted himself off Andrew while clutching his right shoulder and fell back against the wall. Blood oozed through his gloved fingers. The pain must have been excruciating, if his grimace was any indication. ‘Bloody hell, I hate being shot,’ he gritted through his teeth.

Seeing him like this was making Olivia’s hands shake. He was too young to die.

Blast him for making her feel anything towards him beside anger and betrayal. Part of her wanted to cradle him in her arms and take away his pain. Another part of her wanted to rail at him for jumping in the path of a bullet and getting shot. What was the appropriate thing to say to someone at a time like this?

‘You need to find a new hobby.’

A spurt of laughter sneaked out between his clenched teeth before he pressed his lips together.

Shouting continued around them as people began to ignore the extinguished fire and focus their attention on the man who’d saved ‘Prince George’.

Andrew knelt next to him, concern etched across his fake brows. ‘We need to get you home.’

* * *

Olivia stood near the window of her husband’s bedchamber, watching his valet dig a bullet out of his right shoulder. When had her life taken such an abrupt turn? She’d insisted they should call a physician, but Gabriel assured her Hodges would do a fine job. After what felt like an hour of digging, she wasn’t certain that was the case.

Thunder rumbled and a flash of lightning exploded in the room as rain pelted the windowpanes. She rubbed the goose pimples on her arms and watched Bennett hold Gabriel’s shoulder down as Hodges continued to dig at the stubborn ball of lead. Gabriel’s hair was sticking up in all directions and his bare chest glistened with sweat in the glow of the candlelight. Having the bullet removed must have been incredibly painful, even with the long drink of brandy he took before Hodges began his attack. Periodically he would clench his teeth, the veins in his neck straining as he pushed his head back into his pillows. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and his left hand was clenched into a tight fist, his knuckles visibly white.

At the next burst of lightning she walked slowly over to the bed. The coppery smell of blood filled the air. ‘What is taking so long?’

Hodges glanced up from his work. ‘The ball is lodged deep, near a bone.’ He began to dig again and Gabriel’s body stiffened.

She should stroke his brow. She should hold his hand. She should do something to offer him comfort. Instead she wrapped her arms around herself, unable to touch him. ‘Can’t we give him more brandy, or try laudanum?’

Hodges shook his head. ‘His Grace abhors laudanum. Best not to stop and just have at it.’

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. ‘Tell me...about...the woman in black.’

He needed a distraction. That she could give. ‘I saw her with Janvier once outside Madame Devy’s. He had appeared unhappy that I had seen them together.’

He nodded and squeezed his eyes shut again.

There was a ‘clunk’ followed by the sound of the lead ball rolling around in the silver bowl. In unison Gabriel, Bennett and Olivia let out an audible sigh of relief.

‘It’s out,’ Hodges said, releasing a breath. ‘I’ll stitch it up and then attend to these bloody sheets.’

A large stack of sheets had been placed under Gabriel’s right shoulder. It appeared Hodges had previous experience handling situations such as this. How many times had Gabriel been shot? She recalled the scar Nicholas had found on him. Were there others?

Her thoughts turned to Andrew, who had changed out of his disguise and headed to Richmond to see to the interrogation of the woman in black and Janvier. If she hadn’t spotted that woman...if she had not seen her with Janvier...would Andrew still be alive?

It wasn’t long before Gabriel’s wound was stitched, bandaged and the crimson sheets removed from under him. Hodges had given him another large glass of brandy before leaving the room with Bennett.

Now, they were alone.

Gabriel was taking gulps of brandy as he lay with his eyes closed, propped up by a mountain of pillows. His breathing was still erratic. Finally he handed over the empty glass and looked at her with sleepy eyes. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

‘Thank you for staying.’

‘Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?’

He blinked with heavy lids. ‘Do not leave me.’

She wasn’t sure if he meant for the time being or forever. Watching him endure the painful bullet extraction and knowing he had placed his own life before Andrew’s had jumbled her emotions. And she didn’t like it one bit. ‘I will be here should you need anything.’

In what felt like a few short moments, his breathing was deep and even. At least he could sleep.

Olivia tried to recall the last time she had been in the very masculine room, with its forest-green walls and dark furnishings. Her gaze skimmed over his large tester bed with the silk-brocade bed hangings and settled on the two wingback chairs by the fireplace. She would guard his bedside from there.

As she rested her head against the back of the chair, her eyes were drawn to a hint of beige cloth sticking out from under Gabriel’s bed. Getting down on her hands and knees, she pulled out a long rolled-up piece of canvas, tied with a black ribbon. Curious what he would keep in such an unusual location, she moved closer to the fireplace and untied the ribbon. The sight of her unfinished portrait left her breathless.

Gabriel hated the portrait. He must not have wanted anyone to find it. But why hadn’t he burned it? Or shot holes through it as he had done with the candles in their ballroom?

She stood with her hands on her hips over the painting that had resulted in the downfall of two men she had considered her friends. There was a low flame in the fireplace, giving Olivia a way to remove some memories of the past few weeks. The canvas burned quickly, replacing the coppery smell of blood in the room with smoke. All that was left was ash. The portrait was gone, as if all her sittings had never happened. If only she could erase her feelings for Gabriel that easily.

Thinking about him was making her head hurt along with her heart. She needed to find something to occupy herself until morning. Then she would direct Colette to pack her things and she and Nicholas would leave for Victoria’s.

* * *

It was difficult for Gabriel to open his eyes to the sound of Bennett’s voice and the soft patter of rain. He stretched his legs under the piles of blankets and went to turn onto his right side. That’s when the shooting pain ripped through his shoulder.

‘Easy, sir,’ his butler said in a soft whisper. ‘Your injury is fresh.’

It was as if his mind had blocked out the events of the last few hours except for the image of Olivia at his bedside. He struggled to sit up with the aid of Bennett. ‘Where is my wife?’ He knew he sounded a bit panic-stricken, but at the moment he didn’t care.

A terrible sense of foreboding gripped him. The pain in his heart outweighed that of his wound. He no longer believed love was purely sentimental drivel reserved for schoolboys and poets. He knew in his heart he loved Olivia. He probably always had. And she needed to know. It didn’t matter the hour. He would go to Victoria’s and demand to speak with her. Throwing back the covers, he swung his legs around to stand. The sudden movement made him dizzy.

‘Sir, please,’ Bennett begged, ‘you will open your wound if you persist in moving so.’

Nothing was going to stop him from going to her. He grabbed Bennett by the arm and realised his servant was in his banyan. Bennett’s astonishment at being grabbed by his employer was obvious.

‘Forgive me,’ Gabriel said, releasing his grip. ‘Fetch Hodges, I need to get dressed.’

‘But, sir, she is over there.’ Bennett pointed to Olivia’s huddled form, curled up in one of the chairs by the fireplace.

She was asleep—in his room—on his chair. She hadn’t left him. Relief flooded his body in a rush and he was grateful he wasn’t standing.

‘I woke you because this letter arrived.’

Gabriel took the folded paper from Bennett, taking note of his brother’s seal. ‘What time is it?’

‘Five o’clock. May I offer you anything? Shall we check your bandage?’

The dressing was still pristine. That was a good sign. ‘No, that will be all for the night.’

His butler hesitated before leaving the room. The minute the door closed, Gabriel rubbed away tears that had been waiting to fall. She hadn’t left him—yet.

He read the note from Andrew and tossed it into the fire. As the paper curled and burned away, Gabriel took a few deep breaths. It was finally over. Prinny was safe and no one had died to ensure it.

At some point during the night Olivia had changed into her nightclothes. Now she was curled up fast asleep in her dressing gown. The day had been physically and emotionally draining for both of them. Caressing her check gently, he took comfort in the warmth of her skin before heaviness settled around his heart.

Olivia blinked up at him through sleepy eyes. ‘You should be in bed.’

A sad smile tugged his lips at the sound of her voice. ‘I thought you had left,’ he said.

‘I told you, I would stay.’

* * *

Olivia rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and studied Gabriel. There was life back in his eyes and he was standing tall, not hunched in pain. She could leave him now. He was on the mend.

‘When I awoke, and did not see you...’ He took a deep, shaky breath, and lowered himself into the chair next to her. ‘I thought you would want to know I received a note from Andrew. Both Janvier and his accomplice have been questioned. I’m certain they will be tried for treason and both hanged in the next few days.’

She sat up straighter at the news. ‘What did they learn?’

‘The woman who shot me has no wish to hang alone. She confessed to trying to kill Prinny and identified Janvier as the man who’d promised to pay for her passage home to France if she helped him with his plot. She shadowed the man who tried to kill Prinny the day we were returning from Mr Owen’s and traced him to the Tower. At the Tower, she seduced a guard and convinced him to let her see the gunman. While there, unbeknownst to him, she poisoned that gunman’s food. I’m certain in the coming days we will learn more.’

‘Do they know anything of her?’

‘She’s an impoverished French aristocrat who has no love of the British Crown or the
ton
. Apparently she met Janvier at a coffee house, where they shared similar views.’

‘Does this mean Prinny is safe?’

‘For now,’ he said on a sigh. ‘However, a man in his position will always be a target.’

She walked to a table near the window and poured herself a glass of port. As she brought the glass to her lips, the warm rich smell held no appeal and she lowered it to the table.

‘Will you not have some?’ he asked with confusion. ‘After this evening, I would think you might want the entire bottle.’

‘I find I no longer have a taste for port.’ She walked back to her chair and did not miss the sombre turn of his lips. ‘I burned the portrait.’

His eyes widened and he followed Olivia’s gaze to his bed.