Silence throbbed in the room like a wound. And then in one smooth motion, David turned the gun on Nicolas and fired.
Two sharp retorts, echoing closely behind each other, filled the large ballroom.
Maryann’s scream mixed with the others in the room. Red bloomed on Nicolas’s pristine white shirt and she hurtled toward him as he stumbled to lean weakly against the wall.
Uncaring of who might be watching them, she pressed her hand to the wound high on his shoulder, trying to contain her fear. “Nicolas,” she gasped, shaking. “Oh God, please!”
Hands pulled her away, and she glanced up to see her father. “Papa,” she cried, hating that she felt so frightened. “What are you doing?”
“Go with him,” Nicolas said.
And it was then she noticed Viscount Montrose was by his side. And the screams behind her were from Lord Marsh’s sister. David had been shot, and himself lay on the floor bleeding.
Maryann glanced around to see Crispin discreetly taking a pistol from Arianna where she held it against the folds of her skirts. He took her hand and they slipped away in the chaotic noise rising in the ballroom.
“I am coming with you,” she said to Nicolas. “And you cannot stop me.”
“You will do no such thing,” her father said tightly.
“Go with your father,” Nicolas said, swaying, sweat beading his face. “Now, Maryann.”
Her father bundled her away from the scene of the greatest scandal to possibly ever rock the ton.
…
A few hours later…
“That man is the most odious creature; whatever was Lord Rothbury thinking to declare himself to be in love so violently and so publicly!” the countess cried with excessive passion, wearing a hole in the plush carpet on the drawing room. “You are ruined.”
Maryann stood by the window, still clothed in the gown she had worn to the ball. The dawn broke, and pale sunlight touched on the flowers in the gardens. She pressed her hands against the chilled windows, desperation worming in her heart.
Are you well, Nicolas? What if he had died and she was not by his side?
“That man was willing to die for our daughter,” the earl said with soft contemplation. “I have never seen anything as courageous.”
“I will not have my daughter marry that wretch, if that is what you are insinuating!”
“My dear,” her father interposed, “I believe the violence and profound nature of his declaration suggest they might need to marry sooner than later. Such a love is not borne alone from walking in the park or reading poems to each other.”
“Good God, Philip, whatever are you about?” her mother asked in shocked accents. “Marry sooner than later?” She sucked in a harsh breath. “You do not mean—”
Her words faltered as if she couldn’t bear to utter the scandalous suggestion.
Maryann slowly turned around from the windows. “Mama, Papa,” she said with a small smile. “I must leave. I cannot stay here a moment longer.”
“Wherever are you going?” the countess demanded.
“To see for myself that Lord Rothbury lives.”
Her mother swayed. “My dear child, after the exceedingly scandalous spectacle you created in the ballroom last night, screaming his name and sobbing and promising to love him forever? You intend to call upon him? Have you no consideration for your good name?”
Maryann blushed and lifted her chin. “I shall return home in a few hours. If it will relieve your worry, I do not intend to walk up to his home and knock. I will break in very discreetly.”
Her mother glanced at the earl, who silently watched her.
“Whose child is she?” the countess cried. “Where are her parents? We did not birth this…this…” The words stuck in her throat, threatening to choke her. Her mother swooned quite dramatically, and her father caught her against his chest and bore her to the sofa, ringing the bell for smelling salts.
Maryann gripped the skirts of her gown and hurried from the drawing room. She spilled into the hallway and faltered. Nicolas stood there, looking very pale. Despite this, his tall frame was one of powerful, lithe elegance. His dark hair was perfectly groomed, and his beautiful golden eyes ensnared her.
How wonderfully alive and beautiful he looked.
Relief blossomed through her and a love so fierce her throat went tight, and tears sprang to her eyes. She rushed toward him as he swayed, slipping her hands around his waist and holding him to her. If he should fall, she would tumble with him to the floor, but Maryann felt as if she would never let him go