Charlotte raced Penny toward the spot she guessed the duel would be held but couldn’t see any signs of the men. Then, in the filtered moonlight, she saw a group of four horses tied close together just outside the thickest section of forest. That meant they were already here, inside the clearing. Was she too late?
The forest was too thick for Penny to maneuver quickly, so Charlotte pushed off her mount with all her might and fell to the ground, not caring to tie Penny up. Charlotte pressed forward through the thick trees and overgrown ground, pulling up her skirts as the tip of her boot caught on the ripped fabric. As she continued, she saw another horse, tied by itself, on the other side of the clearing. Was someone else here?
The trees finally thinned, and she saw two men far apart, their backs toward each other. Christopher and Alex each grasped a pistol.
Gasping for breath, Charlotte pushed harder into her run, opening her mouth to yell for them to stop, when Joseph instead shouted, “Three!”
In an instant the sound of a gunshot echoed off the trees. Charlotte’s eyes darted to Christopher, his arms outstretched before him, both hands steadying his pistol. “No!” she screamed in unison with the gun’s echo.
She was still yards from Alex and turned to look at him only to see he’d been shoved to the ground several feet away. In what should have been his place lay another man in a heap, clutching his shoulder.
Bright sanguine liquid reflected off the moonlight and oozed through the man’s hand as he writhed on the ground. Who had pushed Alex out of the way?
The man flailed onto his back, blood pouring from the wound, and then Charlotte saw his tortured face and heard his familiar voice groaning.
“George!” she screamed and ran to him. But how was he there?
She brushed her brother’s hair from his sweat- and dirt-strewn skin, realization crashing into her senses. “Christopher!” she yelled, rising to her knees and twisting toward her elder brother on the other side of the clearing. With untamed anger, she screamed again, “Christopher!”
Though the night was dark, she saw Christopher rushing toward her.
Charlotte turned back to George. “Why?” Tears fell unbidden from her eyes. “How?”
“He didn’t deserve to die,” George answered, gasping for air. “I had to stop Chris—” Another tortured gulp. “But didn’t know which side of the clearing to choose.” His breathing grew more ragged. “I chose wrong.” He winced and clutched his shoulder. “I thought I’d be fast enough.”
Charlotte’s body gave way to sobs as she knelt at her brother’s side.
“What have I done?” The anguished cry came from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at Christopher, who crumpled to the ground. By the time she looked back at George, Alex had already taken him in his arms.
“We must work quickly,” Alex yelled to Moxham. “Help me stabilize him.” He ripped off his cravat, and his sure hands tied a tourniquet around George’s shoulder.
Once the cravat was tight, Moxham handed Alex more cloth from his own cravat to press against the wound to stop the bleeding.
“He needs a doctor immediately,” Alex said. “We will take him back to the house.”
The two men stood and lifted George as carefully as they could.
Charlotte finally came to herself and stood. “Christopher, George left his horse there.” She pointed across the clearing. “Go fetch it for Alex.”
Clearly still in shock, Christopher paused for only an instant before he visibly shook himself and sprinted in that direction. “Joseph,” Charlotte directed, “help Mr. Moxham with George as Alex mounts. Then go into town and bring the doctor to the castle.”
Joseph nodded silently, and Alex soon had George gingerly across the front part of his saddle, George’s body bound and bloody, slumped against his own.
Once Alex had started slowly through the trees, Charlotte swiped away the moisture from her eyes and squared her shoulders toward Christopher. “You have been so blinded by your hatred,” she said, stepping close enough to raise her chin toward his face. “You wouldn’t stop. Your awful, skewed sense of justice and power caused this to happen!” She heaved another breath and flailed out her arm toward George’s shrinking frame through the trees, fighting back a sob. “You’ve wounded the best of us. George might die, Chris. Everything you have done has torn our family apart, and I am ashamed to call you my brother!”
Christopher said nothing, his eyes hollow. After a tight pause she hurried through the trees behind Moxham and Alex, and just before mounting Penny, Charlotte turned to face her brother. “Alex will walk into the castle holding George, and there have been witnesses here. Do not for a second try to change the story. Tell what lies you must to the servants, but leave Alex out of this. I will ride on ahead and prepare George’s sickbed.”
Not wanting Christopher’s help, she pulled Penny to a log, mounted astride, and glanced at her brother. Christopher remained mute.