Gambling for the Governess: A Victorian Romance (The Seven Curses of London Book 9) by Lana Williams

Author:Lana Williams [Williams, Lana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-28T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Pawn, beg, borrow—anything, only don’t let the chance slip.”

~The Seven Curses of London

Amelia tried the door, but something blocked it. She pounded on the rough surface, hoping to interrupt whatever nefarious deeds were going on inside. “Open this at once.” She used the best governess tone she had—one that demanded immediate compliance.

The muffled thumps coming from the other side of the door paused then the door flew open. One of the ruffians stood on the threshold, towering over her as his gaze swept over her in disbelief.

Amelia’s heart pounded with fear even as her mother let out a squeak of fright. Too late, she realized she should’ve left her mother somewhere safe rather than placing her in harm’s way.

“I insist you stop immediately. The authorities are on their way.” Before she could say anything further, he brushed past her, his companion following closely behind. The pair hurried away, leaving her knees weak with relief.

“Amelia, what was that about?” her mother asked as she stared after them.

“I have no idea.” Amelia prayed they didn’t return as she opened the door wide and stepped inside.

The dim interior slowly brightened as the tang of horse manure stung her nostrils. “Christopher?”

A low moan sounded from the corner of the room.

“Christopher?” She hurried forward to kneel beside his sprawled form. “Are you hurt?”

Another muffled moan answered her inquiry.

“Oh dear.” Panic rushed through her as she took in the sight of his closed eyes and unmoving body.

“Is he hurt?” her mother asked from the doorway.

“Yes.” The dim room made it difficult to determine exactly what was amiss. She pressed a hand over his chest, grateful to feel the steady beat of his heart. “What did those men do to you?” she whispered, wishing he’d answer.

His breathing seemed shallow—too shallow. She ran her hands gently over the back of his head and found a large bump. She repeated the gesture along his chest only to encounter something damp and sticky. Lifting her hand, she gasped at the dark red staining her fingers.

Fear sat like a heavy, wet blanket over her, smothering any ideas of what she should do for a long moment.

“I’m going to get help.” She started to rise only to feel Christopher’s hand on her arm.

“My carriage isn’t far,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with obvious pain. “Get Charles.”

“Of course.” With jerky strides she left him, squinting as she exited the dim room.

“Is that blood?” Her mother’s eyes went wide as she stared at Amelia’s hand.

“I believe he’s been stabbed. Can you watch over him while I fetch his servants?”

“Of course.” Her mother stared into the room as if Amelia must somehow be mistaken.

“Scream your loudest if you see those men.” She hesitated, hating to leave her mother.

“I’ll be fine, Amelia.” She patted Amelia’s arm. “You have to get help. His life may depend on it.”

Amelia nodded jerkily. “I’ll hurry as quickly as I can.” She dashed toward the race entrance, keeping an eye out for the two who’d done this to Christopher, terrified they might return to finish what they’d started.

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