Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(22)

“Falkner, you’re jolly well lost in your own world, aren’t you, old fellow?”

Kip Sanborn, a high-spirited young man of twenty-four, approached with an overly careful stride. Since the party at Sackville’s had begun a week ago, Sanborn had been drinking more heavily each day. This was the lad’s first encounter with shooting, and he had been drowning with a liberal amount of alcohol his trepidations about handling a gun. Alec regarded him with narrowed gray eyes, thinking that it would take a good week to dry him out.

“Come to reload,” Sanborn said, setting down a small pile of equipment and squinting at the little heap before selecting a steel charger filled with an ounce or two of shot.

“Sanborn,” Alec inquired dryly, “I know that Sackville told you—”

“Sackville?” Sanborn interrupted, picking up a flask of powder. “Oh, yes… always listen to the Sack. Capital fellow—”

“Undoubtedly. I know he told you to take a sandwich and a glass of brandy each time you were nervous… but with all due respect and concern, I’d like to suggest that you keep your sandwich case and your liquor flask closed while you’re around me.”

“Keeps the nerves steady,” Sanborn replied, busily employing a ramrod on the seven-pound gun.

“The nerves don’t concern me,” Alec said, lazily donning his hat and pulling the brim down on his forehead. “It’s the aim I’m worried about.”

“Nothing to worry about. Nothing—” Sanborn reassured him enthusiastically, and then his eyes brightened as new game was sprung and a flock of birds soared overhead.

“Wait,” Alec snapped, noticing in that instant that Sanborn had not put his powder flask on the ground. “Don’t fire, you fool, the powd—”

As he started to run toward the half-drunken man, Alec heard him fire. The powder flask exploded. A violent blast knocked Alec to the ground, a jolt of lightning that rushed through him and caused his ears to ring. Stunned, he lay sprawled on the ground, becoming dimly aware of the cool earth beneath his cheek and the shouts of the other men as they realized what had happened. His black lashes flickered slightly. “Sanborn?” he muttered, his ears roaring so loudly that he could hear no answer, and then a buzzing cloud seemed to surge over him.

Mira bent over her book, her feet curled underneath her body as she sat on a plush sofa in the blue

Kitting room. She could hear the men coming in from Ihe hunt and the women returning from their outings, (heir footsteps passing by the closed door. Shifting to a more comfortable position, she paid no heed to their noise, knowing that in their eagerness to go up to their rooms and change for supper, none of Sackville’s guests would come in here. Quietly she concentrated on the book she held, reading until more than an hour had passed and she heard the clinking of supper dishes. They were all in the dining room, Mira surmised, and closed the book as she stood up and stretched.

The door to the sitting room opened a crack, the familiar white of a housemaid’s cap gleaming as a young woman peeped through the door.

“Tessie?” Mira said curiously, and the small mobcapped head was extended fully into the room.

“Oh, I ‘oped you were ‘ere!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping to serve supper?”

“I ‘ad to tell you… they’re all talkin’ about it, and I snuck away, fast as I could, when I ‘eard o’t!”

“Heard of what?”

“They ‘ad an accident on the field today, a explosion, a man ‘urt, and the hacksaw called in—”

“They called the doctor?” Mira said, her brow wrinkling. “Dieu, I’ll bet he bled a bowlful out of the poor man.”

“Don’t know… but this is the int’restin’ part. Lizzie sent me to tell you that she thinks your duke was the one who got blown up.”

The book fell to the floor with a thud. Mira’s hand flew to her cheek, and then she brushed by Tessie with an inarticulate sound. She ran up the curving staircase, using the balustrade to pull herself up more quickly as her feet skimmed over the stairs.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Walter asked dubiously as Alec fell across the bedspread with a grateful sound.”Perfectly fine,” came the smothered reply. Alec lifted his face from the pillow to add, “Just tired. I’ve had a narrow escape.”

“From being injured?”

“No, from Clara Ellesmere. As soon as we all came in, she was wrapped around me tighter than skin, offering to ‘nurse me back to health.’ ” He laughed dryly. “Some nurse.”

“I can’t imagine that she would allow you much sleep,” Walter admitted. “And speaking of sleep, how long would you like to rest?”

“Just an hour,” Alec said, rolling onto his back and locking his hands beneath his head. “I need the peace and quiet. I have some thinking to do, and they’re all down there yapping like poodles—God, what an interminable day. I hope Sanborn is better.”

“The physician is seeing to him. Several burns, painful but not serious if cared for properly.” Walter smiled sardonically. “I am both relieved and surprised that you were uninjured. Fools and drunks like Sanborn are more dangerous to others than they are to themselves.” The valet paused and surveyed him with a doubtful expression. “Are you certain that you don’t want to take your bath before resting?”