Masked by Moonlight. Allie Pleiter
as she watched scarlet ribbons creep out from between Mr. Covington’s clenched fingers. He’d been stabbed. She’d seen Cook cut herself with a kitchen knife, but had never witnessed anyone being purposely stabbed. Her brain seemed unable to accept the concept.
“Georgia!” the reverend called. “Come here.”
Covington’s eyes locked onto hers. She tried to breathe, but it was as if her corset had tightened into a vise. Dimly, she saw him force a smile.
“Shall we go find me a bandage and dry you off?” he asked.
A thick, red drop of blood fell from his clenched hand and splattered on the flagstone, snapping her out of her stupor. She let go of the fountain, and the breath she’d been trying to take rushed suddenly into her lungs.
Reverend Bauers took off his coat and wrapped it around Georgia’s shoulders. She really wasn’t that wet, but she shivered as the clergyman slipped Mr. Covington’s waistcoat off his good arm and bundled it around the injured one. “Since we’ve ruined your coat already, it might as well serve as a bandage until we get you inside. We might have to stitch you up, Covington. There are medical supplies in the next building—can you walk?”
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