earned his want to protect her was of some comfort, Emma was still possessed immeasurable dread. “You must die!” came a vicious screech of untold misery and anger. Emma was startled once more by the horrific nature of his speech and she felt her fingers being squeezed. A gun shot rang out once more. The ground beneath her seemed to tremor. The shrieking ringing was ear-splitting as the sound damaged their ears once more. Emma was jolted painfully. Her body erupted in shock as she fell to the grassy floor. A mangled cry escaping her dry throat. She sensed a body drop beside her as another shot rang. Strong arms gripped her shivering body and she jolted against the sudden touch and she cried out in alarm. The familiar face of a servant filled her vision and she was overcome with relief. Now partially deaf, her mind could not register the events unfolding around her. Emma was hauled up from the ground and, panicked; she peered round to where her inhuman assailant now lay on the ground with two bullet holes in his chest. The sight, although relieving, was sickening and Emma projected a hurl of vomit out into the grass. A gentle hand rubbed and soothingly patted her on the back and she cried significantly. Her heart pounded furiously. A gasp of agony from beside her caught her undivided attention. Charles’ breathing was erratic and unnatural quick pants. He lay in the grass, exhausted and pale. Blood engulfing all of his torso and his clothes were stained in a revolting way. Emma watched him with alarm. The servants fussed manically over him and eventually hoisted him off the ground and carried him away to the safety of the house. Emma, herself, was helped carefully to her feet; her legs were quivering hysterically and she could not seem to calm herself in any way. A large figure of a broad man approached her and although she did not hear the words he spoke, she nodded vaguely. The Duchess was swept from her feet and carried swiftly away from the horrific ordeal of her near death.
She had been fussed over more times than she had been fussed over by any man before. Her welfare was expressed to be of the upmost importance but she was too in shock to appreciate it. She sat on a small chair outside the chambers of the Duke. None of the five doctors had yet left his room and Emma could not decide if that was good or bad news. She had finally been left alone in the empty corridor. Servants came every now and then to check on her. Every small cut and bruise had been attended to but she scarcely gave them any notice. The silence, though, was deafening. She could not even make out the murmured conversation in the room opposite her nor did she ever hear any cry of pain. This too distressed her greatly. At least then she would know he was still alive. Right now, she was unsure if he even lived. With a loud creak, the door finally opened. Emma looked up desperately for some information. Her eyes searching the doctor’s features for any signs of misery or hope. “Your Grace?” he murmured quietly. “The Duke is in a very critical condition.” Her heart faltered. “Although we have attended to him as best as we could, there is still the possibility of death and I must urge you to prepare yourself.” Emma was flabbergasted and silent tears trickled down her quivering face. “May I see him?” she whispered. The doctor smiled solemnly. “I’m afraid that is not wise at this time, Your Grace.” She nodded frantically before he had finished speaking. “You have suffered a grave ordeal, Your Grace,” he continued, gazing at her empathetically. “Might I suggest you get some rest yourself?” Emma sighed deeply and shook her head. “No, I will stay here.” “Your Grace...” he protested but she silenced him with her hand. “I will stay here, please tell me when I can see him.” she looked away then and settled herself in her chair again. She listened as his footsteps disappeared inside the room again