Gamble With Hearts by Hilary Gilman

a shot rang out. He stopped, frozen in his tracks, then crumpled where he stood, clutching for support at the bridle of his terrified mount. Then, muffled by the mist, they heard the sound of hooves galloping away into the distance.
    Osborne reached him first. ‘Fitz, Fitz, I say! Where's that damned surgeon you engaged?’ he called over his shoulder. The Major appeared at his side, his pleasant face very grim. ‘There's no need for a sawbones now, Captain. This man is dead!’
    ‘My God!’ breathed the Captain. ‘Who could have—?’
    ‘Who? Good God, man, isn't it plain enough who did it!’ snarled the Major. ‘Who was to have met him here? Who hadn't the courage to face him like a man, and shot him down like a dog without any chance to fight? Can you not see? Well, you had better look to your friend because I'm off to Bow Street to tell them what has happened here, and if I have my way he shall hang for this murder, although I'd say hanging is too good for him!’
    Captain Osborne took a hasty step forward, his mouth dangerously set. ‘You'll take back those words, sir!’ he rapped out, barely controlling his anger. ‘How dare you make such a preposterous accusation against Carlington, of all people? Why, the man doesn't live of whom he is afraid!’
    ‘C-Calm d-down, Ricky,’ cautioned Fitz, placing a restraining hand on his friend's arm. ‘We have no quarrel with D-Dugdale here. He d-doesn't know Charles as we d-do. It must look p-pretty b-bad to him.’
    ‘Bad! Bad, sir! It looks a lot worse than that!’ shouted Major Dugdale furiously. He was very much shaken by the events of the morning for, although he barely knew Farnley, he was not the man to see a fellow human being shot down before his eyes without being seriously affected.
    Soberly, the three men hoisted the dead weight of Farnley's body onto his still trembling horse. Major Dugdale took the leading rein and prepared to move off. He was halted by Osborne, who suddenly held out his hand to the older man. ‘I beg your pardon, Major, for my hastiness, but believe me, it is quite impossible that Charles Carlington had anything to do with this. I will stake my life on it!’
    Ungrudgingly, the Major took Osborne's outstretched hand. ‘I believe you, lad, but it's not me you have to convince. Unless your friend can give a very good account of this morning's work to Bow Street, I am very much afraid he will hang. And rightly so, rightly so.’
    In depressed silence the little party moved off, the Major with his gruesome charge towards the City, while the young men of one accord directed their mounts to a low and rambling ale-house just visible through the morning haze. They rode in silence for a while and then, as though unable to contain himself any longer, Osborne broke out with, ‘Fitz, what the devil are we to do?’
    Lord Fitzwilliam shook his head despondently. ‘I d-don't know, Ricky, but I will say this. Unless Charles has a d-damned good story t-to explain why he missed this meeting, it's g-going to look black, very black indeed!’
    By
ten o'clock
that morning the freezing mists of the early morning had dispersed and the day was warm and sunny. Charlotte had risen betimes, too happy and excited to pursue her usual course of snuggling into the pillow and indulging in the luxury of breakfast in her room. She dressed herself carefully in her favourite morning gown of primrose muslin, the same that had been donned to impress the Marquis an age ago, and went downstairs with a light heart.
    Anything of a clandestine nature was repugnant to Miss Wrexham and she had determinedly resisted Carlington's pleas for a secret meeting. However, it was no secret that she and Miss Milverly, duly escorted by their maids, often took a stroll in Kensington Gardens in the morning and Charlotte had every expectation of seeing Carlington there.
    When she entered the morning room it was in the expectation of finding Miss Milverly awaiting her. But it was not the