My Fair Lily(104)

Everything happened all at once. The echo of that shot still resounded in her ears as Lily turned to Ewan. Her eyes widened in horror at the crimson spurt of blood now spewing from his body. He tried to move, but grunted in pain and collapsed against his grandfather.

“No! Ewan!” She surged to her feet and started toward him, as did his family and the Royal Society board members. Then she noticed Lord Mortimer withdrawing a pouch from his cloak and moving toward a lit torch. The gunpowder! He meant to kill them all!

Lily lunged toward him, at the same time fumbling for the hat pin she carried within the folds of her sash. She tackled Lord Mortimer and stuck his hand with the hat pin. He yelped and dropped the pouch. She kicked it away and grabbed the torch to keep it out of his grasp.

“Jezebel! Witch! Ashton loved you and you betrayed him!” The soldiers of the Somerset barracks now burst through the door and quickly took Lord Mortimer into their custody.

“We’ll keep him locked up and under guard. Don’t you worry, Miss Farthingale,” said their captain.

“Search him. Search his coach. Look for gunpowder.” The captain nodded and issued more orders to his men. Four of them secured Lord Mortimer in their custody. The others hurried off to search his belongings.

As the last of them left, Lily turned to Ewan. Meggie was in tears, kneeling beside him. “Oh, no.” Lily’s heart began to pound through her ears. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. He was too proud and stubborn to die.

She heard him groan. Oh, thank goodness! “Ewan, where are you hit?”

“Just my shoulder. Solid shot this time. That hot metal lodged deep between the muscle. Hurts like blazes.”

Evie was first to her feet. “Come on, Desmond. We have to find Lily’s uncle. He’s a doctor. The best in London.”

Lily carefully removed Ewan’s jacket and shirt and then, with the assistance of several soldiers, settled him on one of the freshly made up cots in their barracks. While she gathered clean cloths and ordered water boiled, Meggie and her grandfather remained by Ewan’s side. She had watched her uncle tend to the injured, but had never seen him operate on anyone who had been shot. After thoroughly washing the soot and grime off her hands, she returned to Ewan’s side and busied herself by cleansing his wound, doing her best to stem the flow of blood. She didn’t know what else to do.

Despite her protests, Ewan eased himself into a sitting position on the cot. “Lily, lass. It’s just my shoulder. Nothing fatal.”

Though he tried to hide it, she heard the strain of agony in his voice. “I know,” she said in a shaky whisper, not quite believing his assurances.

He took her hand and held onto it until her uncle arrived. This was so like Ewan, determined to comfort her even though he was the injured party. George finally arrived after what seemed like forever and quickly set to work on Ewan’s shoulder. The others were herded out of the room, but Lily remained to assist him. She promptly and carefully followed each instruction. There was so much blood! Ewan was in so much pain.

***

“Sweetheart,” Ewan said softly, several hours later. The last of the metal fragments had been dug out of his shoulder and the wound properly bound. He was now safely back at Lotheil Court, his every comfort attended to by the Lotheil servants. George had ordered him to stay in bed and rest.

Ewan was already ignoring those orders, Lily noted with frustration. He’d bathed, put on clean clothes, and had a tempting array of plum cakes and raisin biscuits set out on a table by the hearth in the library. He was seated in one of the fat cushioned chairs in front of the hearth, his long legs stretched before him. Jasper was sprawled beside him, eyeing the raisin biscuits and whimpering. “Be quiet, ye bloody looby. I have something important to say to Lily.”

He stood up, giving no hint of discomfort as he rose, though he moved a little more slowly than usual and his injured shoulder was slightly stooped. He took her hand again, squeezing it lightly but with firm determination, as though to prove he wasn’t going to die. They were alone in the library. She had come straight here with him, not taken the time to return home to bathe or change into clean clothes. She was a disheveled mess and suddenly felt quite awkward standing beside him.

He looked spectacular. Of course, he did. He was strong, proud Ewan.

She was a bluestocking who’d spent the past hours crying in the carriage on the ride to Lotheil because she thought he was going to die each time they hit a bump in the road, and crying some more in the Lotheil garden while the duke’s staff tended to Ewan upstairs. “I ought to go home to wash and change.”