When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,89

startled look. “What—?”

He seized hold of her and Sophy and thrust them to the floor. Sophy cried out in protest while Tessa protectively put her arms around the little girl.

“Stay down,” Guy urged. “Don’t move.”

Keeping one hand on their crouched forms, he sat up to take a quick glance around the arena. He fought off an encroaching wooziness and made himself concentrate. The show was in full swing with the jesters racing their ponies hither and yon and pretend-shooting each other. With all the tumult of the mock battle, the audience continued to cheer without having noticed that one of the shots had been genuine.

But Guy noticed. His arm stung like the very devil. He pressed a folded handkerchief to the wound to stanch the blood saturating his sleeve. All the while, he scanned the pit and the spectators, seeking the gunman.

The jesters were using fake weapons ingeniously rigged to appear to fire multiple times. Had one of them picked up a real gun by mistake? If it had happened once, it could happen again.

He stood up, intending to shout out to stop the show. A split second later, he saw one pony cut away from the others and trot toward the exit. The rider seemed hell-bent on escape.

That had to be the culprit. He must have realized what he’d done. Damn the blighter to hell! He could have killed Sophy or Tessa.

A rush of rage infused Guy. The intensity of his need to catch the shooter drowned out all pain. He bounded up onto the low ledge, gauged the distance down to the sawdust pit, and braced himself to jump.

Chapter 17

Tessa looked up in bewilderment. She couldn’t fathom what could have induced Carlin to thrust them onto the floor, and had been too busy soothing Sophy to ask, but when he leaped onto the ledge and then sprang out of sight, there was no way she was going to obey his order to stay down.

She lifted her head to peer over the wooden barrier. He’d landed in a crouch and now he took off running, keeping to the outer edge of the ring.

What in the world—?

A roustabout dashed forward to intercept the duke. So did one of the riders, who turned his pony into Carlin’s path and forced him to dodge. Viewing the chase as part of the spectacle, the throng thundered its approval.

Sophy tugged on Tessa’s skirt. “I want to watch! Why can’t I see?”

“Shh, dearie. It’s only for a moment.”

As she glanced down at the girl, Tessa spotted a blood-soaked square of cloth lying on the bench. Her eyes rounded in horror. That was Carlin’s handkerchief; she’d seen him draw it out and clap it to his shoulder. Quickly she pushed it out of sight so that Sophy wouldn’t notice.

All of a sudden, everything made terrible sense. Carlin had been shot! That must have been when he’d fallen against her. Now she could only guess he’d seen the shooter and had gone after him.

Her heart pounding, she looked out again to see that the duke was arguing with the roustabout, gesturing at his arm, and trying to get past him. Then the big bruiser bobbed his head, and they both took off running toward a small open gate in the ring.

Meanwhile, the performers had gotten wind of the incident and stopped the show, milling around and talking excitedly to one another. Several of them spurred their ponies after Carlin, who had disappeared from the ring.

Awareness rippled among the spectators, followed by cries of shock and fright. It was clear that the news was spreading about someone having been struck by a real bullet, so Tessa decided it would wise to whisk Sophy away at once before panic ensued.

“Come, the show is over. It’s time to return to the carriage.”

“But where’s Papa?” Sophy said with a tragical air. “We can’t leave without him!”

“I promise, he’ll find us. Here, I’ll carry you.”

When Tessa picked her up, Sophy didn’t object but wrapped her small arms around Tessa’s neck. Though Tessa talked cheerily, her worry must have been sensed by the girl because she didn’t whine or fuss. She merely clung tightly as Tessa left the box and made her way through the crush of people gathering in the corridor.

Exiting the building, she blinked at the afternoon sunshine, so much brighter than the interior torchlights. An attendant summoned their vehicle, and they were soon nestled inside after having told the coachman what had happened. The footman went dashing off into the