The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons 2) - Page 64

And then, as he carefully moved a seat cushion that had turned sideways, he saw her. She was terrifyingly still, but her head didn’t appear to be stuck in an unnatural position, and he didn’t see any blood.

That had to be a good sign. He didn’t know much of medicine, but he held on to that thought like a miracle.

“You can’t die, Kate,” he said as his terrified fingers yanked away at the wreckage, desperate to open the hole until it was wide enough to pull her through. “Do you hear me? You can’t die!”

A jagged piece of wood sliced open the back of his hand, but Anthony didn’t notice the blood running over his skin as he pulled on another broken beam. “You had better be breathing,” he warned, his voice shaking and precariously close to a sob. “This wasn’t supposed to be you. It was never supposed to be you. It isn’t your time. Do you understand me?”

He tore away another broken piece of wood and reached through the newly widened hole to grasp her hand. His fingers found her pulse, which seemed steady enough to him, but it was still impossible to tell if she was bleeding, or had broken her back, or had hit her head, or had…

His heart shuddered. There were so many ways to die. If a bee could bring down a man in his prime, surely a carriage accident could steal the life of one small woman.

Anthony grabbed the last piece of wood that stood in his way and heaved, but it didn’t budge. “Don’t do this to me,” he muttered. “Not now. It isn’t her time. Do you hear me? It isn’t her time!” He felt something wet on his cheeks and dimly realized that it was tears. “It was supposed to be me,” he said, choking on the words. “It was always supposed to be me.”

And then, just as he was preparing to give that last piece of wood another desperate yank, Kate’s fingers tightened like a claw around his wrist. His eyes flew to her face, just in time to see her eyes open wide and clear, with nary a blink.

“What the devil,” she asked, sounding quite lucid and utterly awake, “are you talking about?”

Relief flooded his chest so quickly it was almost painful. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice wobbling on every syllable.

She grimaced, then said, “I’ll be fine.”

Anthony paused for the barest of seconds as he considered her choice of words. “But are you fine right now?”

She let out a little cough, and he fancied he could hear her wince with pain. “I did something to my leg,” she admitted. “But I don’t think I’m bleeding.”

“Are you faint? Dizzy? Weak?”

She shook her head. “Just in pain. What are you doing here?”

He smiled through his tears. “I came to find you.”

“You did?” she whispered.

He nodded. “I came to—That is to say, I realized…” He swallowed convulsively. He’d never dreamed that the day would come when he’d say these words to a woman, and they’d grown so big in his heart he could barely squeeze them out. “I love you, Kate,” he said chokingly. “It took me a while to figure it out, but I do, and I had to tell you. Today.”

Her lips wobbled into a shaky smile as she motioned to the rest of her body with her chin. “You’ve bloody good timing.”

Amazingly, he found himself grinning in return. “Almost makes you glad I waited so long, eh? If I’d told you last week, I wouldn’t have followed you out to the park today.”

She stuck out her tongue, which, considering the circumstances, made him love her even more. “Just get me out,” she said.

“Then you’ll tell me you love me?” he teased.

She smiled, wistful and warm, and nodded.

It was, of course, as good as a declaration, and even though he was crawling through the wreckage of an overturned carriage, even though Kate was stuck in the cursed carriage, with what might very well be a broken leg, he was suddenly consumed with an overwhelming sense of contentment and peace.

And he realized he hadn’t felt that way for nearly twelve years, not since that fateful afternoon when he’d walked into his parents’ bedroom and seen his father laid out on the bed, cold and still.

“I’m going to pull you through now,” he said, sliding his arms beneath her back. “It’ll hurt your leg, I’m afraid, but it can’t be avoided.”

“My leg already hurts,” she said, smiling bravely. “I just want to get out.”

Anthony gave her a single, serious nod, then curved his hands around her side and began to pull. “How is that?” he asked, his heart stopping every time he saw her wince with pain.

“Fine,” she gasped, but he could tell she was merely putting up a brave front.

“I’m going to have to turn you,” he said, eyeing a broken and jagged piece of wood that stuck down from above. It was going to be difficult to maneuver her around it. He couldn’t care less if he tore her clothing—hell, he’d buy her a hundred new dresses if she’d only promise never again to step into a carriage if it was being driven by anyone other than himself. But he couldn’t bear the thought of scratching even an inch of her skin. She’d been through enough already. She didn’t need more.

“I need to pull you out headfirst,” he told her. “Do you think you can wiggle yourself around? Just enough so I can grasp under your arms.”

She nodded, gritting her teeth as she painstakingly turned herself inch by inch, lifting herself up on her hands as she scooted her hips around clockwise.

“There you are,” Anthony said encouragingly. “Now I’m going to—”

“Just do it,” Kate ground out. “You don’t need to explain.”

“Very well,” he replied, inching backward until his knees found purchase on the grass. On a mental count of three, he gritted his teeth and began to pull her out.

And stopped a second later, as Kate let out an earsplitting scream. If he hadn’t been so convinced that he’d die within the next nine years, he would have sworn she’d just taken ten off his life.

“Are you all right?” he asked urgently.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. But she was breathing hard, puffing through pursed lips, and her face was tense with pain.

“What happened?” came a voice from just outside the carriage. It was Edwina, done with the horses and sounding frantic. “I heard Kate scream.”

“Edwina?” Kate asked, twisting her neck as she tried to see out. “Are you all right?” She yanked on Anthony’s sleeve. “Is Edwina all right? Is she hurt? Does she need a doctor?”

“Edwina’s fine,” he replied. “You need a doctor.”

“And Mr. Bagwell?”

“How’s Bagwell?” Anthony asked Edwina, his voice curt as he concentrated on maneuvering Kate around the debris.

“A bump on his head, but he’s back on his feet.”

“It’s nothing. Can I help?” came a worried male voice.

Anthony had a feeling that the accident had been as much Newton’s fault as Bagwell’s, but still, the young man had been in control of the reins, and Anthony wasn’t inclined to feel charitable toward him just now. “I’ll let you know,” he said curtly, before turning back to Kate and saying, “Bagwell’s fine.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to ask after them.”

“I’m sure your lapse will be pardoned, given the circumstances,” Anthony said, edging farther back until he was nearly entirely out of the carriage. Kate was now positioned at the opening, and it would take only one more—rather long and almost certainly painful—tug to get her out.

“Edwina? Edwina?” Kate was calling out. “Are you sure you’re not injured?”

Edwina jammed her face into the opening. “I’m fine,” she said reassuringly. “Mr. Bagwell was thrown clear, and I was able to—”

Anthony elbowed her out of the way. “Grit your teeth, Kate,” he ordered.

“What? I—Aaaaaaaargh!”

With one single tug, he freed her completely from the wreckage, both of them landing on the ground, both of them breathing hard. But where Anthony’s hyperventilation was from exertion, Kate’s was obviously

from intense pain.

“Good God!” Edwina nearly yelled. “Look at her leg!”

Anthony glanced over at Kate and felt his stomach drop down clear to his toes. Her lower leg was crooked and bent, and more than obviously broken. He swallowed convulsively, trying not to let his concern show. Legs could be set, but he’d also heard of men who’d lost limbs due to infection and bad medical care.

“What’s wrong with my leg?” Kate asked. “It hurts, but—Oh, my God!”

“Best not to look,” Anthony said, trying to tip her chin in the other direction.

Her breathing, which was already rapid from trying to control the pain, grew erratic and panicked. “Oh, my God,” she gasped. “It hurts. Didn’t realize how much it hurt until I saw—”

“Don’t look,” Anthony ordered.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

“Kate?” Edwina asked in a concerned voice, leaning in. “Are you all right?”

“Look at my leg!” Kate nearly shrieked. “Does it look all right?”

“I was actually speaking of your face. You look a bit green.”

But Kate couldn’t reply. She was hyperventilating too hard. And then, with Anthony, Edwina, Mr. Bagwell, and Newton all staring down at her, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted.

Three hours later, Kate was installed in her bed, certainly not comfortable but at least in a bit less pain thanks to the laudanum Anthony had forced down her throat the minute they’d gotten home. Her leg had been expertly set by the three surgeons Anthony had summoned (not, as all three surgeons had pointed out, that more than one was needed to set a bone, but Anthony had crossed his arms implacably and stared them all down until they’d shut up), and a physician had stopped by to leave several prescriptions that he swore would hasten the bone-knitting process.

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