The Viscount Who Loved Me (19 page)

“Which would explain,” Benedict said with a philosophical nod, “why he’s so angry.”

Anthony spread one hand over his face and pressed hard against his temples with his thumb and middle finger. “God above,” he muttered. “What would it take to get you two to leave me alone?”

“Go home, Anthony,” Benedict said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Anthony closed his eyes and let out a long breath. There was nothing he wanted to do more, but he wasn’t sure what to say to Kate, and more importantly, he had no idea how he’d feel once he got there.

“Yes,” Colin agreed. “Just go home and tell her that you love her. What could be more simple?”

And suddenly it
was
simple. He had to tell Kate that he loved her. Now. This very day. He had to make sure she
knew
, and he vowed to spend every last minute of his miserably short life proving it to her.

It was too late to change the destiny of his heart. He’d tried not to fall in love, and he’d failed. Since he wasn’t likely to fall back
out
of love, he might as well make the best of the situation. He was going to be haunted by the premonition of his own death whether or not Kate knew of his love for her. Wouldn’t he be happier during these last few years if he spent them loving her openly and honestly?

He was fairly certain she’d fallen in love with him as well; surely she’d be glad to hear that he felt the same way. And when a man loved a woman, truly loved her from the depths of her soul to the tips of her toes, wasn’t it his God-given duty to try to make her happy?

He wouldn’t tell her of his premonitions, though. What would be the point? He might suffer the knowledge that their time together would be cut short, but why should she? Better she be struck by sharp and sudden pain at his death than suffer the anticipation of it beforehand.

He was going to die. Everyone died, he reminded himself. He was just going to have to do it sooner rather than later. But by God, he was going to enjoy his last years with every breath of his being. It might have been more convenient not to have fallen in love, but now that he had, he wasn’t going to hide from it.

It was simple. His world was Kate. If he denied that, he might as well stop breathing right now.

“I have to go,” he blurted out, standing up so suddenly that his thighs hit the edge of the table, sending walnut shell shards skittering across the tabletop.

“I thought you might,” Colin murmured.

Benedict just smiled and said, “Go.”

His brothers, Anthony realized, were a bit smarter than they let on.

“We’ll speak to you in a week or so?” Colin asked.

Anthony had to grin. He and his brothers had met at their club every day for the past fortnight. Colin’s oh-so-innocent query could only imply one thing—that it was obvious that Anthony had completely lost his heart to his wife and planned to spend at least the next seven days proving it to her. And that the family he was creating had grown as important as the one he’d been born into.

“Two weeks,” Anthony replied, yanking on his coat. “Maybe three.”

His brothers just grinned.

But when Anthony pushed through the door of his home, slightly out of breath from taking the front steps three at a time, he discovered that Kate was not in.

“Where did she go?” he asked the butler. Stupidly, he’d never once considered that she might not be at home.

“Out for a ride in the park,” the butler replied, “with her sister and a Mr. Bagwell.”

“Edwina’s suitor,” Anthony muttered to himself. Damn. He supposed he ought to be happy for his sister-in-law, but the timing was bloody annoying. He’d just made a life-altering decision regarding his wife; it would have been nice if she’d been home.

“Her
creature
went as well,” the butler said with a shudder. He’d never been able to tolerate what he considered the corgi’s invasion into his home.

“She took Newton, eh?” Anthony murmured.

“I imagine they’ll be back within an hour or two.”

Anthony tapped his booted toe against the marble floor. He didn’t want to wait an hour. Hell, he didn’t want to wait even a minute. “I’ll find them myself,” he said impatiently. “It can’t be that difficult.”

The butler nodded and motioned through the open doorway to the small carriage in which Anthony had ridden home. “Will you be needing another carriage?”

Anthony gave his head a single shake. “I’ll go on horseback. It’ll be quicker.”

“Very well.” The butler bent into a small bow. “I’ll have a mount brought ’round.”

Anthony watched the butler make his slow and sedate way toward the rear of the house for about two seconds before impatience set in. “I’ll take care of it myself,” he barked.

And the next thing he knew, he was dashing out of the house.

Anthony was in jaunty spirits by the time he reached Hyde Park. He was eager to find his wife, to hold her in his arms
and watch her face as he told her he loved her. He prayed that she would offer words returning the sentiment. He thought she would; he’d seen her heart in her eyes on more than one occasion. Perhaps she was just waiting for him to say something first. He couldn’t blame her if that was the case; he’d made a rather big fuss about how theirs would
not
be a love match right before their wedding.

What an idiot he’d been.

Once he entered the park, he made the decision to turn his mount and head over to Rotten Row. The busy path seemed the most likely destination for the threesome; Kate certainly would have no reason to encourage a more private route.

He nudged his horse into as fast a trot as he could safely manage within the confines of the park, trying to ignore the calls and waves of greeting that were directed his way by other riders and pedestrians.

Then, just when he thought he’d made it through without delay, he heard an aged, female, and very imperious voice call out his name.

“Bridgerton! I say, Bridgerton! Stop at once. I’m speaking to you!”

He groaned as he turned about. Lady Danbury, the dragon of the
ton
. There was simply no way he could ignore her. He had no idea how old she was. Sixty? Seventy? Whatever her age, she was a force of nature, and
no one
ignored her.

“Lady Danbury,” he said, trying not to sound resigned as he reined in his mount. “How nice to see you.”

“Good gad, boy,” she barked, “you sound as if you’ve just taken an antidote. Perk up!”

Anthony smiled weakly.

“Where’s your wife?”

“I’m looking for her right now,” he replied, “or at least I
was
.”

Lady Danbury was far too sharp to miss his pointed
hint, so he could only deduce that she ignored him apur-pose when she said, “I like your wife.”

“I like her, too.”

“Never could understand why you were so set on courting her sister. Nice gel, but clearly not for you.” She rolled her eyes and let out an indignant huff. “The world would be a much happier place if people would just listen to me before they up and got married,” she added. “I could have the entire Marriage Mart matched up in a week.”

“I’m sure you could.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you patronizing me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Anthony said with complete honesty.

“Good. You always seemed like the sensible sort. I…” Her mouth fell open. “What the devil is that?”

Anthony followed Lady Danbury’s horrified gaze until his eyes fell on an open-topped carriage careening out of control as it rounded a corner on two wheels. It was still too far to see the faces of the occupants, but then he heard a shriek, and then the terrified bark of a dog.

Anthony’s blood froze in his veins.

His wife was in that carriage.

With nary a word to Lady Danbury, he kicked his horse into motion and galloped full speed ahead. He wasn’t sure what he’d do once he reached the carriage. Maybe he’d grab the reins from the hapless driver. Maybe he’d be able to pull someone to safety. But he knew that he could not sit still and watch while the vehicle crashed before his eyes.

And yet that was exactly what happened.

Anthony was halfway to the drunken carriage when it veered off the path and ran up over a large rock, upsetting the balance and sending it tumbling onto its side.

And Anthony could only watch in horror as his wife died before his eyes.

B
y the time Anthony reached the overturned carriage, Edwina had managed to crawl from the wreckage and was clawing at a mangled piece of wood, trying to open a hole on the other side of the carriage. The sleeve of her dress was torn, and the hem was ragged and dirty, but she seemed not to notice as she tugged frantically at the door. Newton was jumping and squirming at her feet, his barks sharp and frenzied.

“What happened?” Anthony asked, his voice curt and panicked as he leapt from his horse.

“I don’t know,” Edwina gasped, wiping at the streaky tears that ran down her face. “Mr. Bagwell’s not such an experienced driver, I think, and then Newton got loose, and then I don’t know
what
happened. One minute we were rolling along, and the next—”

“Where is Bagwell?”

She motioned to the other side of the carriage. “He was thrown. He hit his head. But he’ll be all right. But Kate…”

“What about Kate?” Anthony dropped to his knees as he tried to peer into the wreckage. The entire carriage had overturned, smashing the right side of the vehicle as it had rolled. “Where is she?”

Edwina swallowed convulsively, and her voice barely rose above a whisper as she said, “I think she’s trapped beneath the carriage.”

In that moment Anthony tasted death. It was bitter in his throat, metallic and hard. It scraped his flesh like a knife, choking and squeezing, pulling the air from his very lungs.

Anthony yanked viciously at the wreckage, trying to open a wider hole. It wasn’t as bad as it had looked during the crash, but that did little to calm his racing heart. “Kate!” he yelled, trying to sound calm and unworried. “Kate, can you hear me?”

The only sound he heard in reply, however, was the frantic whinny of the horses. Damn. He’d have to get them unharnessed and loose before they panicked and started trying to drag the debris. “Edwina?” Anthony called sharply, looking over his shoulder.

She hurried over, wringing her hands. “Yes?”

“Do you know how to unharness the horses?”

She nodded. “I’m not very fast, but I can do it.”

Anthony flicked his head toward the onlookers who were hurrying over. “See if you can find someone to help you.”

She nodded again and quickly got to work.

“Kate?” Anthony yelled again. He couldn’t see anyone; a dislodged bench was blocking the opening. “Can you hear me?”

Still no response.

“Try the other side,” came Edwina’s frantic voice. “The opening isn’t as crushed.”

Anthony jumped to his feet and ran around the back of the carriage to the other side. The door had already come off its hinges, leaving a hole just large enough for him to stuff his upper body into. “Kate?” he called out, trying not to notice the sharp sound of panic in his voice. Every breath from his lips seemed overloud, reverberating in the tight space, reminding him that he wasn’t hearing the same sounds from Kate.

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.

Anthony had fussed over her like a mother hen, second-guessing every move from every doctor until one of them had actually had the audacity to ask him when he’d received his license from the Royal College of Physicians.

Anthony had not been amused.

But after much haranguing, Kate’s leg was set and splinted, and she was told to look forward to at least a month of confinement in bed.

“Look forward?” she groaned to Anthony once the last of the surgeons had gone. “How can I look forward to that?”

“You’ll be able to catch up on your reading,” he suggested.

She let out an impatient exhale through her nose; it was hard to breathe through her mouth while clenching her teeth. “I wasn’t aware I was behind on my reading.”

If he’d been tempted to laugh, he did a good job of hiding it. “Perhaps you could take up needlework,” he suggested.

She just glared at him. As if the prospect of needlework were going to make her feel better.

He sat gingerly on the edge of her bed and patted the back of her hand. “I’ll keep you company,” he said with an encouraging smile. “I’d already decided to cut back on the time I spent at my club.”

Kate sighed. She was tired and cranky and in pain, and she was taking it out on her husband, which really wasn’t fair. She turned her hand over so that their palms met and then entwined her fingers through his. “I love you, you know,” she said softly.