Sir John Dering by Jeffery Farnol

Reaching the old cross, Sir John paused instinctively and leaned there, oblivious to all but this most bitter of truths. She had acted. from the very first! The gentle Rose with her sweet simplicity was no more than a figment of his own imagining. The cold, vindictive Herminia had lured him on for this. Here, indeed, was the culmination of her heartless scheming. Her vengeance was accomplished. And Rose had never existed!

Here, lifting clenched hand, he saw a slow trickle of blood that crept beneath lace ruffle. She had said his hand was bloody. and to be sure she had gripped and wrenched his injured arm.