They carefully lifted Kitty into the coach. Theo would not leave her and it fell to Greg to bundle the dazed Etienne on to the outside box seat, next to himself. He attached their two horses at the back of the carriage and set off towards the nearest shelter.
Inside the coach, Theo cradled Kitty in his arms. She lay limp as a toy, her uninjured arm sliding down to dangle as the coach swayed. Theo muttered a curse. This jolting could open the wound again and she was too weak to lose any more blood. He held her close, checking again to see if she was any warmer.
How ironic that it had taken such an event for him to get her in his arms. Why the deuce had he been so slow in wooing her? He heaved a sigh. He knew the answer to that. It involved giving in to emotions that he had tried to avoid for so many years. His jaw clenched. If you felt deeply about someone you got hurt when you lost them. That was a lesson he had learnt early in life. It was easier to live on the surface and keep dealings with other people free of any deep ties.
He looked down at the still form in his arms. Somehow, she had slipped through all his defences. And it was just as he had expected. He was racked by anguish that just when he realized he could not live without her, it was perhaps already too late and he had lost her. Why had he let his temper get the better of him at Caroline’s ball? After dancing with her he had been on the point of admitting how much he loved her when that damned Frenchman interrupted them. Then when he found her in Saint-Aubin’s arms, being kissed, he felt betrayed. Somehow he had held his temper in check but only by keeping his distance from her.
He examined her face. It was such a perfect oval. Her eyes were closed but even without their glory he could never tire of gazing at her lovely features.
‘For the Lord’s sake, hurry, Greg, will you?’ he muttered. ‘Find a house quickly.’ He felt her face and hands again. Still icy. He smoothed back her curls and gently rubbed at her cheeks. There was blood smeared everywhere. He had even got it around her mouth – must have been when he gave her the brandy.
The coach jogged along, the horses were weary and the night was growing old. He felt the coach turn at a sharp angle. There was the sound of wheels crunching on gravel.
‘Just turning into the drive,’ Greg called down. ‘Nearly there, old fellow.’
Theo did not reply. He was cradling his precious burden. She should have shown some sign of life by now. There was a pricking in his eyes. His heart seemed to contract. He could not bear to lose her. He bent his head and kissed her cold forehead, her cheeks and then, drawn irresistibly, her lips. He kept his kiss very gentle, remembering with a pang how she had kissed him back on the one occasion he had managed to kiss her properly.
He ran his finger over those lips that had attracted him from the first time he ever saw her. Suddenly, his eyes sharpened. Her eyelids were fluttering. She blinked up at him. He could see her returning from far away.
‘Theo…?’ Her voice was a thread of sound.
‘Do not talk, Kitty. You are very weak.’
‘I-I thought.…’ She gave a little sigh. Her hand reached up towards his face but fell back and dangled helplessly once more. Her eyes closed again.
The coach stopped.
*
There was a tall figure standing against the window. The sunlight behind the person made it hard for Kitty to see who was there. She blinked, frowning slightly at the effort and closed her eyes again. Her shoulder hurt and she could not turn her head. She was aware of a hand on her brow, a deep voice whispering her name. It seemed to her that someone planted a kiss on her forehead, then she sank back into sleep.
She was roused from her dreams by a stabbing pain in her shoulder that went on and on. Her head was sweating, someone was wiping her face with a wet cloth but the pain was too much to bear. She wanted to tell them to stop but she could not get the words out. Exhausted, she slipped away into a faint.
The next time Kitty awoke, she saw Martha, seated by the bed.
‘Oh, miss, thanks be to ’Eaven!’ whispered Martha. ‘We were that frightened for yer.…’ She wiped her eyes.
Kitty stared round at the unfamiliar room. ‘Where am I?’ It was an effort to get the words out.
‘I will tell you all about things, miss, but first, you must ‘ave summat to eat. Doctor says so,’ she added firmly, as Kitty frowned in distaste.
As she was feeding Kitty a weak broth, Martha smiled at last. ‘Oh, miss, when they chased after you in St Giles, I never thought to see you again. That big feller, ‘e took you away wrapped in a cloth. I couldn’t do nothing. I followed ‘im for a bit but the other man chased me off. I ran ‘ome to Lady Picton. She was in such a taking as never was! The whole household was up all night.’
‘When was this?’ Kitty felt too weak to make much sense of the impressions lurking in her mind.
‘Why, ’tis nigh on a week now. We received a message from them two gentlemen, Mr Thatcham and Mr Weston like, to say you were ’ere.…’
‘Where?’
‘This ’ouse belongs to Mr Thatcham’s grandmother. I dunno rightly where it is. I come in a carriage,’ explained Martha, her eyes round with awe. ‘Them two gentlemen were looking after you – well, the one as is sweet on you, Mr Weston like, ’e was in such a state, miss. What with ’im being wounded in the war, ’e was afraid you would get a fever from the bullet.’ She scraped the last of the soup on to the spoon and put it to Kitty’s lips. ‘’E kept fussing the doctor to do everything to be sure you was going to get better.’
Kitty put up a hand to her bandaged shoulder. ‘It is certainly very sore. I can remember most things now.’ Etienne’s face, grim and desperate, the confrontation with Theo and Greg and her determination not to let those precious letters fall into the wrong hands. She shut her eyes, overcome by horror at the whole tragic story. Tears would force themselves through her tightly closed eyelids. After a while, she opened her eyes again and found Martha still waiting patiently.
‘You are too weak yet. Time to rest again,’ said the maid. ‘Doctor said to give you this.’ She held out a glass half full of a dark potion.
Kitty felt she had too many sorrows to ever sleep again but somehow everything was fading away. The laudanum soon did its work, but it was a troubled slumber and she woke little refreshed. She felt stronger, however, and more anxious to get the full story of her adventure.
Over the next week as she gained strength, Kitty learnt from Martha that there were just two elderly servants left in the house while Lady Deane was in London. Theo had nursed her until Martha had arrived, after which the two young men had departed in haste, nobody seemed to know where.
‘Doctor says that Mr Weston saved you from bleeding to death – poured brandy on the wound, ‘e did,’ said Martha with relish.
‘Oh!’ Kitty put up her good hand to feel the poor shoulder. ‘But that means he must have pulled my dress down.…’ She bit her lip.
‘Ripped it open,’ nodded Martha with a giggle. Then she shook her head. ‘Your best jaconet muslin – but it’s no good for nothin’ now, it’s all stained and torn. His clothes were in a mess an’ all. Covered in blood, ’e was. We did what we could to smarten ’im up. Well, I mean to say, ’e saved your life.’
Kitty stared out of the window at the puffy white clouds racing across a pale-blue sky. Her lips tingled at the memory of Theo’s kiss. She could still hear his voice urging her to hang on. But if he really loved her, surely he would still be here. She waved away the dish of fruit that Martha was offering her.
It occurred to Kitty that Martha was looking extremely cheerful. Her usually pale face was rosy and her grey eyes were sparkling.
‘Are you going to tell me now why you look as if you had lost a penny and then found a shilling?’ she asked, while the maid was carefully brushing her hair. ‘Mind my bruise,’ added Kitty hastily.
‘Yes, miss. ’Tis not near so bad as it was and your hair is clean and free of tangles now.’
‘Thank you. But I am still waiting for your story.…’
‘Well, I’m not s’posed to say anything yet. An’ it fair beats me how you can tell, miss. But I do feel as if my worries are over.’ She brushed soothingly for a while.
‘Well?’
‘Mr Weston made me tell ‘im about where you got kidnapped. Then he asked me about my father, bein’ in the army an’ all. And I told him about little Sam an’ how you saved ’im’ – she wiped her sleeve across her eyes – ‘an’ he said – he will soon be married an’ he’ll need more staff. He reckons he can find a cottage for me an’ my family an’ the boys can help in the stables. So you see, miss.’ Her voice cracked. She gave a sobbing little laugh.
Kitty felt her limbs slowly turn to stone. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Theo was going to be married. Countess Payne had somehow succeeded in organizing the match of her dreams for her plain and spiteful daughter. Kitty found her fingers had curved into claws and hastily straightened them. She realized that Martha was waiting for some reply and made a supreme effort.
‘How wonderful for you, Martha. You will all benefit from such a change.’
‘Do you want to rest now?’ asked Martha, eyeing her anxiously. ‘You do look white again, miss.’
It was not a rest. When Martha had gone, Kitty remained frozen, staring unseeing at the wall. So nothing had changed. Theo did not want to marry her – or he did not want it enough. Perhaps he was angry at her refusal to listen to his advice. By persisting in her visits to the St Giles Rookery, she had put herself in danger and nearly caused the ruin of Greg’s mission. In short, she had only herself to blame. This awful feeling of misery was so much more painful than the gunshot wound. And it would never leave her.