Fear rushed through her, tightening her muscles as her flight or fight instincts kicked in, and her previous terror returned.
Too late, she recognized the pistol in his hand, and Deryn screamed. But the man in the cloak did not turn the weapon toward them. Rather, he scurried past the door and took dead aim at Mr. Oldman hiding behind it. Eugenia saw Mr. Oldman’s eyes widen as the cocked pistol, at close range, could not possibly miss.
Chapter 29
Eugenia reacted instantly.
The slate flew from her hand and struck the cloaked man in the shoulder. Though it was not a hard blow, it served to deflect the man’s aim. The pistol fired. Mr. Oldman grunted, spinning half around as the ball struck him in the upper arm. A soldier to the core, he lunged forward, reaching for the assassin.
The cloaked figure dodged backward and bolted back around the door and into the corridor. Mr. Oldman, bleeding and cursing, tried to follow, pulling a pistol from under his livery. He stumbled over a chair, lost his balance, and fell to the library floor with a resounding crash. Eugenia rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside him. Trying to rise, grimacing in pain, Mr. Oldman struggled as she pressed her hands against the wound to help stop the bleeding.
“Go fetch the Duke,” Eugenia snapped at the terrified Deryn. “And Mr. Leary. Go.”
Deryn ran out the door. Eugenia tried to prevent Mr. Oldman from rising, murmuring urgent words in his ear. “Lie still, you are going to be all right.”
“Must – go after him.”
“No, no,” she said. “He is gone. What matters now is you. I am so sorry, so sorry you got hurt.”
Mr. Oldman ceased trying to get up and offered her a lopsided grin. “That is the risk a bodyguard, and a soldier, takes. Help me, please. I must sit up.”
“All right,” she said, “but slowly, now. I am going to keep pressure on the wound to slow your bleeding.”
Using his good arm, Mr. Oldman carefully sat up, then stood shakily. He walked gingerly to the wooden chair he tripped over and sat down. He returned the pistol under his uniform, then, digging into his pocket, he produced a handkerchief. “Wrap that around it.”
Eugenia obeyed him, and tied the cloth around the wound tightly, but not so tight it cut off all blood to his arm. He gazed up at her and smiled wryly. “Thank you.”
“That should be me,” she said. “Not you.”
“I would much rather it be me, Miss Betham.”
She glanced down at the blood on her hands. “He knew you were there,” she said slowly. “Why did he try to shoot you first? He could have simply opened the door and shot me, then been gone.”
Just then, Maximilian burst into the library. “What happened?” he roared. “I heard a shot.”
Behind him came Nigel Curry and Lady Helena, who blanched at the sight of the blood on Mr. Oldman and Eugenia. She quickly turned around but did not leave the room. Eugenia’s courage wavered at the sight of the dark anger and alarm in Maximilian’s face but turned to him squarely, her stomach in knots.
“This was my idea,” she said. “And my responsibility.”
Maximilian glanced at Mr. Oldman, who stood up beside her. “I agreed to it, Your Grace,” he said. “I will accept whatever punishment you choose to hand out.”
“Before I dole out anything,” he snapped. “I sure would like to know what happened. Now, pray tell – what in God’s name went on in here?”
Determined not to flinch under his intense scrutiny, Eugenia clasped her bloody hands in front of her. “It was my idea, Your Grace. I convinced Mr. Oldman and Lady Helena to assist me in trapping the assassin. We hoped that by me being in the library every day at this time would bring him in to try to kill me.”
“I would say it worked, Miss Betham,” Maximilian said coldly. “Despite the fact that I told younotto use yourself as bait. You went behind my back, Miss Betham, and I do not like it when people go around behind my back.”
Lady Helena turned around. “I am also to blame, Your Grace,” she said, her tone cool. “As you know, Eugenia is quite fond of you and told me it was worth it to her to risk her life in an effort to save yours. Thus, I agreed to help her.”
He threw up his hands. “So, this is a bloody conspiracy.”
“One that almost worked, Your Grace,” Mr. Curry said blandly. “Did anyone perhaps get a look at the chap’s face before he obviously departed?”
Mr. Oldman shook his head. “He was dressed as before in a black cloak with the hood pulled down low. I saw nothing save his chin, and even that was a fleeting glimpse before my attention was consumed by the gun pointed right at me.”
His expression softening a fraction, Maximilian paced toward him, taking a close look at Mr. Oldman’s arm. “Tell me exactly what happened.” He glanced back at Eugenia.
“The door opened,” Eugenia said, remembering the terror at the sight of that black cloak, swallowing hard. “He was cloaked from head to toe in black. I almost panicked, as he was dressed the same as when he tried to push me off the battlement. But he turned and pointed the pistol at Mr. Oldman instead of me. I threw the slate, and it struck him.”
