Christopher's face went ashen, which darkened the bruises on his cheek and

jaw from the two blows Giovanni had managed to connect. “Oh my God. Will

she live?”

“It depends on how bad it is,” Turner replied grimly. “I've seen many of these in the cavalry… people thrown from horses or kicked. Some survived but

not all. Did you see how far she fell? Just from standing?”

“She was on the stairs,” Christopher said. “She must have fallen three,

maybe four steps before she hit the floor.”

“Then we have another problem,” Mrs. Turner said. “Falls in pregnancy can

cause premature delivery. At only five months, if the baby is delivered now, there's no way it will survive. Did he do anything else to her?”

“He kicked her all over.” Christopher's voice cracked and shattered.

“Her belly?” she queried.

“No. I stopped him before he could do that.”

“Good. Listen, Christopher,” she took his free hand and made him look up at

her. “Katerina and the baby may both pull through. It's in God's hands now. I suggest you pray like you've never prayed before. It's serious but not hopeless.”

“It was my job to protect her. I failed.” He lowered his face again, as though

unable to look away from his wife.

“How could you have known he would come here?” Adrian demanded.

“I should have guessed,” Christopher snarled. “I instructed our servants at

home to turn him away at all costs, but I didn't tell anyone here. I thought he had

given up, that she was finally safe.”

“Well, she's safe now,” James said from the doorway.

All heads turned in his direction “How do you know?” Christopher

demanded.

“After the drubbing you gave him? He's not stupid. I suggested he take the

next ship to America. I'll check in the morning to be sure he's on it.”

“What?” Christopher demanded, appalled. “You didn't call for the police?”

“Think, Christopher. You beat him to a bloody pulp. If the police came,

whom would they be arresting? Not only him. Don't call for them. I think he's going to respect you now, and just go away.”

“Or put a bullet in your back,” Colin commented darkly.

Christopher didn't say a word. He leaned over and pressed his lips to his wife's face. Her blood smeared on his lips.

If her nose isn't broken, it would be a miracle, James thought.

No one spoke. They just stood by, supporting the couple as best they could.

James put one hand on Christopher's shoulder. With the other, he pulled his wife

close. Eliza wept softly into his shirt.

About half an hour later the doctor arrived. Christopher could barely take in the

details of a small, dark-haired man in a black suit, but the white fingers compressing his wife's head remained emblazoned in his memory forever.

“Fractured skull,” he said at last, and Julia let out a low moan. The doctor sighed. “It's a significant break, but not necessarily fatal. The bone is cracked but not shattered and there's no depression.”

“Will she live?” Christopher demanded.

“It's possible,” the doctor allowed, “but I can't guarantee it. You see, it's not

so much the break that presents a danger. Her brain hit her skull, not once but twice, from what you've told me. It's sure to swell. If it swells a little and then

subsides, she'll live. If it swells more, she'll die.” Though the words might have

seemed brutal, he spoke them with sympathetic kindness.

Christopher ground his teeth.

“How much time has passed since the attack?” the doctor asked.

“About three-quarters of an hour,” Colonel Turner replied, surprising

Christopher. Between the battle rage and the utter fear, time had changed its course in Christopher's mind. I thought it was less… or more. I'm not sure.

Confused, he blinked as the men kept talking.

“Her best outcome will result from moving her as little as possible. The last

thing we want is to exacerbate the swelling,” the doctor informed them.