Liam bowed his head. “Had I not missed, My Lord, you would be free of this man’s menace and John would still be alive.”
“You take too much upon yourself, I fear,” Lord Willowdale said, a tiny smile hovering over his lips. “You are new to weaponry, and under a great deal of pressure. I expect a soldier might miss under those circumstances.”
“Thank you for your honesty.”
“It is what I am. Honest.”
Lord Willowdale glanced back over his shoulder at Thea. “How are you doing, sister?”
“Better if my arm were not broken.”
Liam forced himself to remain impassive, though a bubble of laughter rose to his throat and hung there, quivering as though it would burst forth at any second. Even Lord Willowdale grinned. He motioned for a footman. “Run ahead to the house and inform Mr. Noonan that his services are required. Then tell the grooms in the stable to hitch a team to the old wagon. Tell them they are to meet the others and help bring my footman home.”
The servant bowed, then ran off ahead of the main party. “We must find a way to lure this assassin out of the woodwork,” Lord Willowdale mused.
“At least we know now he has not fled,” Thea commented, though her voice sounded strained.
Lord Willowdale nodded. “You are quite right about that, Thea. Will this latest incident cause him to run? Did either of you see his face?”
“No, My Lord,” Liam replied at the same time Thea said, “He wore a black cloak with his hood down.”
“Thus,” Lord Willowdale said thoughtfully, “this bloke expected to kill you with one shot, Thea, and escape without his two witnesses able to identify him.”
“Nor did he expect Mr. Carter to be armed,” Thea continued. “I believe his shot threw the killer off.”
Lord Willowdale eyed Liam sidelong. “Perhaps John’s movement made him believe that John, too, was armed.”
“Even so,” Thea said, her voice hot, “John saved my life and I want him honored for it, Freddie.”
“He will be, I swear it.”
“Good. Now I fear I may be unladylike and throw up.”
Though Lord Willowdale stopped the horse to wheel to her, concerned, Thea waved him away. “Let us keep going, Freddie,” she said, her face growing pale. “The sooner I am in my bed, the better.”
“That is quite true. I imagine your pain is playing havoc with your stomach.”
“We do not have far to go, My Lady,” Liam said, holding back to walk beside the horse in case she did indeed faint.
Thea’s voice grew weaker, and Liam truly did fear she might swoon. He watched her closely, ready to catch her if she looked as though she might slide off. “Yes, I can see the house from here.”
He noticed with approval that her right hand still supported her broken left and that her balance in the saddle seemed right. Thea met his eyes briefly, though she did not offer him a warm look or quirk her lips upward. In fact, lines of pain drew her lips downward, and he grew more and more concerned about her. Riding a horse was not conducive for helping a broken arm, in his opinion.
A crowd gathered at the steps to the house, servants, as well as the guests still remaining. Liam guessed that word of Thea’s injury spread throughout the household like a wildfire. Lord Willowdale spoke over his shoulder as he walked.
“What we are going to say is this,” he ordered his tone firm. “Miss Miller merely had an accident and broke her arm falling off her horse. There is enough gossip and talk about this rat trying to kill us and, for now anyway, I want no more fuel added to the flames.”
Mutters of, “yes, My Lord,” drifted up around the small group. Liam knew speculation would still run rampant through the servants, but perhaps this version of events would not make the guests fearful for their own safety. He noticed Thea nod weakly, her eyes on the assembled group.
“Freddie,” she said, her voice a shade stronger as Liam suspected she gathered her determination. “I will walk into the house. Help me down, but I will go inside on my own legs, not carried by you.”
Lord Willowdale apparently agreed, for he did not turn around to speak to her and his chin dipped low once. He led the horse into the crowd of spectators as close to the porch as he could get, offering his guests reassuring smiles as several asked what had happened.
“My sister had a bad fall,” he said, offering bows to those who outranked him. “Her arm is broken, but she will be fine.”
“Did her mount throw her, Lord Willowdale?” asked a plump, grey-haired lady Liam knew to be Lady Harrington.
“Yes, My Lady,” he answered, handing Liam the bay’s reins, then took Thea’s hand to help her down from the saddle. “It apparently got spooked.”
