‘But it wasn’t,’ Cal added, bringing Ralph’s head round to him again. ‘It was accident, pure and simple. A stream diverted and made foul by industry and a village’s waste, a youth made clumsy because he was weakened by the poisoned water and all the accidents that befall adolescent boys. That was all. No villains, Ralph, no blame.’
‘You are not thinking, Ralph.’ The gun barrel swung round to Sophie again. ‘This achieves nothing. You heard Cal, he does not believe it was foul play by anyone. It would break your father’s heart if you shoot Cal. You would hang and for nothing. It would kill Lord Peter – ’
The door opened and Flynn strode in, half-obscured behind a pile of folded shirts. Ralph started, his hand jerked, even as Cal launched himself sideways, crashing into Sophie, bringing her down to the ground as the gunshot roared in her ears along with Flynn’s yell and the impact of their landing.
Someone was sobbing, ‘Oh, God, oh, God,’ over and over, Flynn was swearing, then there was the sound of knuckles hitting flesh and a thud. Her heart was beating like a hammer and she couldn’t see and Cal’s weight was pinning her down. His dead weight.
‘Cal? Your Grace?’ The weight shifted and rolled off her and there was Flynn, white-faced, blood all down his shirt, blood on his knuckles. ‘Miss Wilmott…’
‘Never mind me. You are hurt.’ She scrambled to her knees. ‘The blood.’
‘Not mine.’ Flynn grabbed one of the shirts and wadded it against Cal’s right shoulder. ‘Get Hunt. Hell, he’s bleeding like a stuck pig.’
Sophie staggered to her feet. Cal was shot. Cal was bleeding because he had dived to take the bullet meant for her. Beyond, Ralph sprawled unconscious, the mark of Flynn’s knuckles red on his chin. She wrenched the door open and ran, then forced herself to a sedate walk as she reached the head of the stairs. Renshaw was, thankfully, walking across the hall below.
‘Renshaw, do you know where Mr Hunt is?’
‘Yes, Miss Wilmott, he has just gone to the study and is speaking with Mr Prescott, I believe.’
‘Will you tell them both to go to His Grace’s bedchamber immediately.’ She managed a smile. ‘Thank you, Renshaw.’
Back in Cal’s room Ralph was sitting up against the wall, his head in his hands and Flynn was arguing with Cal.
‘Stay where you are, damn it! Lie still.’
‘The bullet went right through, I think.’ Cal’s voice was strained, but he was coherent. ‘I can feel wetness under my back, I think you need to plug both holes.’
Flynn swore again as he grabbed for another shirt.
Sophie knelt beside them. ‘Let me press this one against his shoulder, then tip him up to rest against me and you can deal with the back.’ It would hurt him. He might be dying. She was not going to cry. She was not. There would be time for that later.
‘I’ll bleed all over you.’ The words came out on a gasp as Flynn hauled him up and Sophie put her free arm around him.
‘That is a major consideration, of course. I should have thought of that in advance, but you are also bleeding on the carpet, which is probably more valuable than my gown.’
‘Are you… humouring me?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘Hunt and Prescott will be here in a minute and you can bleed all over them.’
‘Good.’ His voice trailed away, then strengthened. ‘Why won’t you marry me, Sophie?’
‘I…I can’t talk about that now. Flynn is here.’
‘He’s not listening.’
‘No, I’m not,’ Flynn muttered.
‘Humour… me some more.’ Cal’s voice was fading again.
Perhaps if she could seize his attention it might keep him conscious. ‘Because I love you.’ But he was slumped unconscious now.
Flynn made a sound that he bit off, then the door swung open and Hunt and Prescott were there and took Cal out of her arms. Sophie found herself sitting on the floor, covered in blood, confronting Ralph, who was quietly sobbing.
‘Stop it,’ she snapped. ‘Pull yourself together and do something useful.’
‘Send for the doctor,’ Hunt said from the bedside.
‘Accident,’ Cal said, his voice slurred. ‘Showing me the gun, it went off. Accident.’
‘He tried to kill you. You or Miss Wilmott,’ Flynn interjected, indignant.
‘Accident,’ Cal repeated. ‘All of you, listen to me. Sophie… go with Ralph, call the doctor, make sure he doesn’t say anything stupid. He’s in shock.’
‘Come on.’ She stood up, sized Ralph by the arm and tugged. ‘Get up, try and be some use.’
Their appearance, Ralph shaking, she blood-covered, galvanised the household. A groom was sent galloping for the doctor, Mrs Fairfax went running for bandages and smelling salts, Renshaw sent footmen to help Hunt and the other men while he fetched the brandy.
Sophie had a sudden awful thought and ran down to the kitchen. ‘Where is the water from the Duke’s Spring?’
‘Here, Miss. Shall I send some up?’
‘No!’ She poured the contents of the jug down the sink. ‘Wash that thoroughly. Scour it. Is there more?’
‘Yes, Miss…’
‘Pour it all away, do you hear me? It is poisoned, polluted with mine waste. Boil some water from the pump and bring it upstairs.’
Leaving a tumult of questions behind her she ran upstairs to find Lord Peter shaking Ralph by the shoulders by while a group of guests huddled round. ‘What has happened? What have you done?’