Maximilian paced away from her to gaze up at the moon drifting high overhead. “A fair question, I suppose,” he said. “I am surprised she herself has not asked me.”
“Lady Helena does not understand why you do not talk to her,” Miss Betham said, walking to stand beside him. “Though she has said nothing to me specifically, I know her quite well. She is afraid to ask.”
“Lady Helena reminds me of someone,” Maximilian said. “A lady I used to care about very much. Sophia also had red hair and green eyes, and she broke my heart.”
“I am so sorry for your pain,” Miss Betham said earnestly. “But Lady Helena is a kind soul, she would not hurt you that way.”
“Perhaps not,” Maximilian was very aware of her closeness, the scent of her hair in his nostrils. “Right now, my heart belongs to another. I cannot truly contemplate marriage and a wife at this time.”
Turning his head, he gazed down at her, meeting her eyes. “Perhaps you know of whom I speak.”
Miss Betham opened her mouth to answer him when the statue to their right exploded into shards of marble.
Chapter 12
“Get down!” The Duke bellowed, lunging at her.
Eugenia had barely registered the sound of the shot when the Duke threw his body atop hers. She went down hard, His Grace over her, her head smacking hard against the lawn. Pain coursed through her, but she dimly recognized that had she been on brick or cobblestone, she might well have a cracked skull. As it was, the drop to the ground jolted her, but she was unharmed.
Voices raised in alarm broke the silence that followed the gunshot as grooms swarmed from the stables and ran toward the garden. At the same time, the rear postern door to the castle opened; servants also ran out and asked questions of one another. Squashed under the Duke’s body, Eugenia at first thought he had been injured. But he gazed into her eyes, his worry for her clear in them, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her.
“Are you all right?” His face was an inch from hers.
Nodding, as she had no breath for speaking, Eugenia saw the lights of lanterns bobbing closer and squirmed to get up. His Grace immediately rose and assisted her to stand at the same moment people hurried into the garden. She blushed, concerned about what they would think, her person alone with him without a chaperone.Is my reputation now ruined?
“Your Grace?” Voices called out sharply as servants and grooms gathered around them. “Are you all right? Is the miss all right?”
“Yes, yes,” His Grace gestured toward the shattered statue. “Whoever took a shot at us missed, as you can see.”
“Did you see where it came from?” asked Fergus, the head groom.
“No, I’m afraid I did not,” he answered. “But look around. See if you can find anything.”
Fergus raised his voice. “Lads! Search the grounds, everyone join up with a partner and have a look. No one goes anywhere alone.”
As the grooms broke up and ran out of the garden, Eugenia discreetly brushed loose grass off her skirts. No one seemed to have noticed that she and the Duke had been alone in the garden when the shooting took place. While she knew she should be upset after nearly being killed, she shrugged that off easily enough. It was the looks ranging between herself and His Grace, and the condemnation in them that worried her. Yet, she saw nothing save concern for her in the eyes that looked her way.
“Miss Betham,” said a kindly voice, one that belonged to Deryn, a kitchen maid about her own age. The two had spoken a few times as Eugenia ate her meals and had become tentative friends. “Perhaps you should come inside.”
Eugenia nodded and took Deryn’s hand. Her head and neck ached something fierce, and she wondered how she might obtain a little laudanum to ease it. “Yes, I should. I was here alone when His Grace arrived, and – and the shot came.”
She caught the Duke’s swift and brief nod, dipped into a quick curtsey; Deryn followed suit, and the two walked toward the castle. Eugenia felt the Duke’s eyes on her back but stifled the urge to look over her shoulder. She had shared a moment with him – one that spanned a brief instant of time yet seemed to last the entire night. When Deryn ushered her through the door and toward the kitchen, Eugenia knew what he had been about to say.
Lady Helena does not interest him. I do.
She allowed herself to be shepherded onto a stool, then Eugenia finally began to tremble when the cook looked on with concern. As Deryn poured her a cup of hot tea, she, at last, felt the after-effects of nearly being killed. Nausea struck her stomach, and unwanted tears filled her eyes. She wished His Grace was there so she could wrap her arms around his neck and weep like a lost child.
“It will be all right, Eugenia,” Deryn said, her tone soft and kind as she set the cup in front of her.
Eugenia tried to smile, though her tears spilled over and tracked down her cheeks. “I am sorry, I guess I just realized – I almost got killed.”
Deryn slid a tentative arm over her shoulders as Mr. Simmons left the bread dough he was kneading and walked toward them. The cook’s assistants and kitchen maids gawked as they listened but dared not leave their chores. “What happened, young miss?” he asked.
“I was walking in the garden,” Eugenia replied, sniffing, trying to smile. “His Grace returned, and we started to chat when – when someone fired a shot. It came so close –”
“There, there,” he said, his tone soothing, though he did not touch her; his hands were covered in flour. “You had a fright, but I am certain His Grace has chased the villain into Scotland by now.”
“His Grace wishes he had.”
