Vienna Waltz (The Imperial Season Book 1) by Mary Lancaster Page A

importance in Vienna can sneeze at dinner without Metternich knowing about it by supper. So you need to be careful about your secrets.”
    “I think I’ve rather blasted that one,” she said, turning back to the wounded man. “He’ll be missed, won’t he?”
    “Eventually. Yes.”
    “Who should I tell?”
    “No one. Not yet. If and when he awakens, we can tell him we really were eloping. Shooting him by accident changed your mind. If he believes us, he won’t be interested in more.”
    “And if he doesn’t?”
    “He was trying to steal from you. The British will never let you be charged with such a crime in such circumstances.”
    “But there would be a terrible scandal. Aunt Lucy would never forgive me.”
    “Which is why it would all be hushed up. It’s very unlikely to get that far.”
    “And if he dies?” Lizzie whispered.
    Johnnie shrugged. “Then we stick with the elopement story to anyone who’s interested. It will be all right. You didn’t mean to shoot him. Anyone could see that.”
    “To be honest, I was never that accurate,” she said tremulously. “I can’t hit a barn at fifty paces.”
    “You’ve never had the right gun,” Johnnie said. “I’ll teach you with mine and you’ll be able to hit a silver penny in no time.”
    Lizzie gave a wavery laugh. “I doubt it.”
    Johnnie grinned. “We’ll see. Now, you’d better get back to Vienna with your bag.”
    Lizzie blinked. “I can’t leave him like this. What if he has a fever?”
    Johnnie exchanged glances with Misha. “We can be here most of the night.”
    “It was I who shot him,” Lizzie said grimly. “The least I can do is nurse him.”
    “And what of your sisters and brother? Your aunt will miss you.”
    “The children will cover for me,” Lizzie said. “At least until noon tomorrow. We weren’t sure when I’d be back, you see, how long it would take us to—”
    “Do you know how to deal with a fever?” Johnnie interrupted.
    “Of course I do,” Lizzie said disparagingly. She wasn’t the Baroness of Launceton’s daughter for nothing.
    “Then I’ll pay off the fiacre,” Johnnie said. “And give the driver enough to bribe him to silence. Here, we’ll split the night into three watches. Misha and I will take the first two, then wake you. Hopefully, by the time we have to go, we’ll have more idea how things stand with our friend here.”
    Lizzie stood up. “You must have been a very good sergeant,” she observed.
    Misha, in the act of drinking, spluttered.
    Johnnie frowned at him. “If only I could rise so high,” he said quellingly, getting to his feet. “I’ll find the landlady and procure you a chamber.”
    *
    It was a good plan, though, in fact, it didn’t work out quite like that. Since Lizzie wasn’t tired, she hung around in the patient’s bedroom. Eventually, Misha brought in another more comfortable chair for her, while he curled up on the floor and went to sleep, reminding Lizzie of Dog.
    Johnnie sprawled in the hard chair a couple of feet away from her, leaning his elbow on the bed itself, and frequently resting his head on his hand while he watched their patient or spoke to Lizzie.
    When the injured man finally opened his eyes, Lizzie said, “Oh no!” And then, when she read the dazed expression of pain and confusion in them, she leapt up in relief. “Oh, thank God!”
    He jerked, thrashing his head from side to side on the pillow until Lizzie smoothed his brow with her fingers. “Hush, sir, we’re looking after you. I’m so sorry I shot you, but you must lie still now and we’ll bring a doctor in the morning. Can you drink this?”
    While Johnnie lifted him, Lizzie held the cup of water to his lips. It was laced with a few drops of laudanum, courtesy of the landlady who said it had been left by a previous noble guest. Their patient obviously recognized the smell because he drew back instinctively.
    “For the pain,” Lizzie said gently. “It’s only a couple of drops to make