Once Upon a Maiden Lane (Maiden Lane #12.5)(25)

“I see,” she murmured, and for the life of him he couldn’t tell what she thought.

He turned the horses toward Rotten Row, passing under the canopy of several mature oak trees.

“Have you—?” he had begun when a bang! exploded nearby.

Henry just had time to think gunshot, and then his team bolted.

“Hold on!” Henry grappled with the reins, the leather sawing into his gloved fingers as he struggled to keep hold of them. If he lost the reins he’d never get the horses back under control.

The right mare swerved, taking them off the packed earth track and into the grass. The left carriage wheels hit something, and the whole contraption tipped to the right. For a moment Henry thought it was all over.

Then the carriage righted itself with a jolt. They were headed straight toward one of the new ornamental ponds.

Henry pulled on the reins, carefully and with constant pressure, urging the horses to run to the right of the pond.

The pond flashed by. The horses slowed.

Henry brought them to a shuddering halt.

He set the brake on the carriage and tied off the reins before turning to Mary. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Her eyes were wide, and she still clutched the carriage side and seat, but she was remarkably composed.

A gentleman on horseback came cantering over, followed by another. The first man, who was wearing riding boots and a red jacket, leaned over and caught the bridle of Henry’s right horse. “I say, that was quite a trip you took there. Everyone satisfactory?”

“I think so, thank you, sir,” Henry replied. “Mr. Coplin, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, my lord,” Coplin replied.

“My lady.” The lady’s maid’s voice was shaking.

Henry turned to reassure the girl and saw that her left arm was soaked in blood.

“Lane!” Mary scrambled to her knees on the carriage seat. She pulled off the fichu she had around her neck and pressed the flimsy cloth to the maid’s arm.

Lane sucked in her breath, her face white.

“Good Lord.” The gentleman behind Coplin—Henry thought his name was Berkley—nudged his horse around back of the carriage and leaned over to look at Lane. He frowned. “Girl’s been shot.”

“What bloody fool shot a gun in Hyde Park?” Coplin’s voice was outraged. “Could’ve hit either you or the lady, Blackwell. Your maid’s lucky the shot didn’t hit her head or heart.”

Henry fought to keep his face neutral as he passed his handkerchief back to Berkley. “Indeed, sir, I concur.”

Berkley tied the handkerchief around the maid’s arm, making Lane moan in pain.

“Thank you,” Henry said to the man before turning to Coplin. “Thank you both.”

Coplin shook his head. “I’m only sorry we had to help you, Blackwell.” He bowed and tipped his hat to Mary. “Glad the lady is unhurt.”

Henry nodded to the gentlemen. “Indeed. I thank you again, and now I’ll be off. I need to bring Lane and my lady home and call the doctor for the poor girl.”

He clucked to his horses, tired now from their mad gallop, and turned toward the road leading out of Hyde Park.

He kept watch as he did so, though.

One near miss with a gunshot was plausible.

Two suggested an assassination attempt.

Someone was trying to kill his Mary.





Chapter Nine



The land prince was much taken with Clio and asked her where she came from and what her name was. But because Clio had no voice she could not answer. The prince was disappointed, but still he brought her inside the castle gates and made her a maidservant.

As for Triton, he was put to work shoveling out the stables.…

—From The Curious Mermaid



Mary worried her lip with her teeth as the Angrove House butler led Lane to the kitchens. The lady’s maid was being brave, but she was trembling, and Mary worried for her.

“Come, my lady,” Lord Blackwell said next to her. “Let us adjourn to the sitting room for some tea.”

“What?” She looked around and saw that he was watching her with a concerned expression on his face.

It struck her again how different this man was from her first impression of him. She’d thought him a feckless aristocrat—one of the men more interested in their own beauty and the diamonds on their shoe buckles than with the people around them. She’d made a hasty—and ridiculously biased—judgment about him based on her own history with handsome gentlemen. But the viscount wasn’t like them at all.

He truly cared about her—and about her maid, Lane. He’d immediately called for a doctor for poor Lane when they’d returned, and seen that the butler had taken the lady’s maid in hand when they were in the house.

“Mary?” he queried, his brows now drawn together. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She shook her head and ventured a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry, I was gathering wool.”

Her smile must not have been very convincing, for the frown didn’t leave his face. “I’m sure this afternoon has been a terrible shock. Come. Tea will restore us.”

He gently tucked her hand into his elbow and led her up the stairs.

The gunshot had been a shock, and seeing Lane with blood all over her arm had been most distressing, but that hadn’t been Mary’s main worry.