When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,94

over the ledge too far, I leaned forward to pull her back. That’s when the bullet struck me.”

Tessa paused in the act of winding a clean strip of linen around his arm. Her throat felt so taut that she could barely speak. “Do you mean to say that if you hadn’t moved, you might have been killed?”

He attempted a shrug and grimaced, his mouth white at the edges. “There’s no use speculating on what didn’t occur. To continue, I thought it was a fluke, an accident. One of the jesters must have picked up a real gun by mistake. Then a rider broke away from the group and made for the exit. I guessed him to be the culprit, so I went after him.”

As he paused to drain his glass, Tessa relived that awful moment of seeing him leap from the ledge. Her heart had come near to stopping, and even now, her fingers trembled as she finished securing the binding.

“Go on,” Jiggs prodded. “I take it ye didn’t catch the blighter?”

“No, several workers tried to stop me from cutting through the arena. It took a minute to explain what had happened, that I wasn’t some drunkard trying to disrupt the show, but the delay was enough to enable the fellow to escape. Since he was wearing a mask, I never saw his face.”

“If he’s employed by Astley’s,” Tessa said, “then someone will surely be able to identify him.”

“Unfortunately, the fellow was a substitute since one of the regulars had taken ill. All I could gather was that he was of medium height and build like half the men in London, and his eyes were either blue or gray or brown depending upon who I asked. In other words, I’ve no description of any use.”

Tessa found the whole thing to be peculiar. As she arose to wash her hands, she wondered why there had been a replacement. With so many other riders, the audience wouldn’t have known that one was missing.

“Sounds mighty fishy,” Jiggs said with a shake of his grizzled head. “Where’d ’e get a real gun unless ’e brought it with ’im? An’ if the shot were only a blunder, why’d he run off?”

“Perhaps he was afraid of bringing the law down on his head.” Carlin flinched slightly as he adjusted his injured arm on the pillow. “The manager has promised to get to the bottom of it. He’ll notify Bow Street and report here on the morrow. There isn’t much more to be done at the moment.”

As Tessa dried her hands, uneasiness churned in her belly. What if the shooting hadn’t been an accident? What if it had been deliberate? But why would anyone wish to harm Carlin? Even as that gruesome question hovered on her tongue, two upraised voices came from out in the passageway.

One belonged to the butler. She gasped to recognize the other as the Marquess of Marbury’s querulous tone. “I’m no stranger to this house, so out of my way, Roebuck. When the sixth duke was alive, I wouldn’t have been turned away on some trumpery excuse!”

“The duke is indisposed, milord. He mustn’t be disturbed.” Roebuck hastened into the bedchamber. “Pray pardon the intrusion, Your Grace, but Lord Marbury was most insistent.”

“Never mind,” Carlin said. “Let him in.”

As the butler retreated, the marquess tottered inside, leaning on his cane. “What’s this I hear about a gunshot—?” Then his rheumy eyes focused on Tessa. “Blister it, Carlin! What have you done to my granddaughter? Why is she in your bedchamber?”

Dismay riveted Tessa in place. She could imagine the scene through Lord Marbury’s eyes, with Carlin in a state of undress and her hovering at his side. What made it so acutely awful was that she’d reconciled herself to the prospect of moving in with her grandfather—at least for a time—once she left here. She’d decided to use the rare opportunity to further an acquaintance with her only blood kin and to learn about her mother’s early years. Moreover, she’d been considering how to convince Lord Marbury not to launch her into society. Then perhaps—just perhaps—she could eventually persuade him to fund her millinery shop.

Now he might very well abandon her altogether.

To her vexation, Carlin looked remarkably calm. “There’s no need for alarm. Miss James was kind enough to bandage my wound just now. Jiggs, will you fetch my dressing gown?”

The valet tramped into the next room and returned a moment later with a russet silk garment. By dint of Carlin leaning forward, and Jiggs