Vienna Waltz by Teresa Grant

Author:Teresa Grant [Grant, Teresa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Adult, Mystery, Historical, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780758254238
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2011-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

Count Clam-Martinitz knelt opposite Malcolm across the stretcher where Fitz lay. “What the devil happened?”

“Someone tampered with his horse.” Malcolm picked up Fitz’s hand and drew a breath of relief when he felt the blood pulsing through Fitz’s wrist. “Find Geoffrey Blackwell. He’ll be with the British delegation.”

“I’m here.” Blackwell strode into the room, Aline and Eithne behind him.

Malcolm moved aside to give Geoffrey his place beside Fitz. Eithne hung back, gaze fastened on Fitz as though her world had shrunk down to his each indrawn breath. Malcolm went to her side and squeezed her hand. “His pulse is strong.”

Fitz’s eyes were still closed. Geoffrey examined the wound on his head with brisk, methodical care. “Nasty looking, but with luck it won’t leave him with more than a headache.”

It was, Malcolm thought, a hideous echo of his and Suzanne’s encounter with the carriage outside the Empress Rose earlier in the day. For the first time he understood what Suzanne had gone through as he lay unconscious. But he had recovered consciousness far more quickly than this.

Fitz stirred. Eithne dropped down beside him and took his hand.

Fitz stared at his wife, then looked round in confusion. “What—?”

“I’m afraid I unhorsed you.” Malcolm knelt beside Eithne. “Your horse had a shoe loosened.”

“Why—”

“Never mind about that now.” Geoffrey pressed a brandy-soaked cloth to Fitz’s wound. “You’re a fortunate man, Vaughn. Head injuries can be exceedingly dangerous. Don’t move too quickly.”

Fitz’s gaze focused on his wife. “Eithne. Shouldn’t—”

“Hush, love. It’s all right.” Eithne folded his hand between both her own.

While Blackwell wound lint round Fitz’s head, Malcolm got to his feet and addressed Count Clam-Martinitz. “Who had access to the horses?”

Clam-Martinitz frowned at the implications. “Almost anyone. The stables weren’t locked. But why—”

“For want of a nail—The nails on one of the shoes of Fitz’s horse had been loosened. It was only a matter of time until the shoe came loose, and one could predict Fitz would suffer an accident. It was clear who would ride which horse, from our last rehearsal.”

“Good God.” Clam-Martinitz stared at him. “You think someone wanted to harm Vaughn?”

Malcolm glanced at his friend. Fitz’s head was now swathed in folds of lint. Blackwell was snipping off the ends, while Eithne stroked Fitz’s hair. “It very much looks that way.”

“In God’s name, why?”

“That,” Malcolm said, his gaze still on Fitz, “would seem to be the question.”

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