When Albert appeared about to voice an objection, she added quickly, “Lord Greybourne no doubt plans to go to the warehouse to continue searching through the remaining crates, and I may accompany him.” She bit back her guilt at that falsehood. After her conversation with Philip, she wouldn’t be seeing him again.
When they were all settled in the gig, Albert took up the reins. “We’ll see you later,” Charlotte said, her eyes glowing with happiness.
A lump swelled in Meredith’s throat, and, not trusting her voice, she simply smiled and nodded.
“ ‘Bye, Aunt Merrie,” Hope said, waving.
“Good-bye, Poppet,” she managed, then blew the child a kiss.
The gig moved down Park Lane, and Meredith watched it, waving, until the conveyance vanished from her sight. Then she stood for another minute, oblivious to the pedestrians moving in front of and behind her, staring across the road at Philip’s townhouse, gathering her courage, trying desperately to ignore the little voice that cruelly reminded her that everything she wanted was inside that house. And that she would never have it. And because she never would, it was time to sever all ties with Philip.
Drawing a resolute breath, her gaze riveted on her destination, she stepped into the street. She’d taken half a dozen steps when she heard a familiar voice yell a frantic, “Meredith!”
Surprise halted her steps. Looking about, she saw Philip running toward her, his face a mask of panic. “Meredith, watch out!”
Suddenly aware of the sound of pounding hooves, she looked over her shoulder. A carriage, drawn by four black horses, their legs flashing at full gallop, was bearing down on her. Her mind screamed at her to run, but terror froze her for several seconds. Seconds, she realized in a flash, that would cost her her life.
Sixteen
He leapt toward her, grabbing her around the waist, knocking her off her feet and propelling them both forward. They landed near the edge of the road with a bone-jarring, skidding impact, just as the carriage thundered by them, spewing dirt and grit, shuddering vibrations through him as the wheels passed them with only inches to spare.
Heart pounding, breath scorching his lungs, he pushed himself off her. He’d tried to twist sideways to protect her from the impact, but they’d gone down hard. Shaking with fear, he gently rolled her onto her back.
His stomach dropped at the dirty scrape marring her cheek, and the trickle of blood seeping from a cut on her temple. Her chin was smeared with dirt and already showing signs of bruising. Her gown was torn in several places, and covered with road dust, as was her hair. She stared up at him, her normally crystal-clear eyes glazed and unfocused, but at least she was conscious.
“My God. Meredith.” He gently touched shaking fingers to her uninjured cheek. The rational part of his mind shouted out a litany of things he should be doing-checking her for broken bones, moving her from the side of the road-but every other part of his mind was immobilized with stark fear. And fury. Turning his head, he noted the carriage had nearly disappeared from view. He briefly squeezed his eyes shut. Jesus. One more second. Just one more second and she’d have been killed under those churning hooves, those speeding wheels. “Please say something,” he implored.
She blinked, and some of the cobwebs left her eyes. “Philip.”
He had to swallow to locate his voice. “I’m right here, darling.”
“Are you all right, sir?” a gentleman asked, running over to them.
“I’m fine. I’m not yet certain about her.” Philip didn’t look up, but he was aware that several people had gathered around, all of them murmuring about how it wasn’t safe to cross the road these days, how the speeding carriage had seemed to appear from nowhere, and what a splendid rescue he’d made.
“Meredith, I want you to remain still while I check to see if you’ve broken any bones.” He examined her arms and legs, then gently pressed on her ribs. “Nothing appears broken,” he said, his voice hoarse with relief. Scooping her up into his arms, he rose, trying to push down his alarm at her silence. If she were completely herself, his Meredith would surely scold him for scandalously hauling her about like a sack of potatoes, especially in public. And God knows he’d have given anything to hear such a reprimand, to know she was truly all right.
“She’s going to be fine,” he said to the half dozen people who had gathered. A collective sigh of relief went up, but Philip didn’t waste any more time. He strode quickly across Park Lane, then up the steps to his house, where he banged on the door with his boot. A young footman named James opened the door, his face set in a fierce scowl.
“Now, see here-” He cut off his irate words as Philip marched across the threshold.
“Miss Chilton-Grizedale is hurt. I need warm water and bandages. Lots of them.” He headed down the corridor to his private study, cradling his precious cargo close to his chest. “Also, there’s a bowl of Bakari’s ointment in the kitchen. Cook will know where. Bring that as well. Then I want a bath made in my bedchamber.”
“Shall I send for the doctor, my lord?”
“Not yet. There are no broken bones, and I’ve some experience in treating injuries. I’ll let you know if the doctor is needed.”
After opening the door to Philip’s private study, James hurried off to do as he’d been ordered. Philip strode to the sofa in front of the fire and gently laid Meredith on the cushions. Kneeling beside her, he gently pushed a tangled skein of dusty midnight hair from her scratched cheek. “Move your arms and legs about a bit,” he instructed. “Does anything hurt?”
A moment later she shook her head. “Nothing hurts, although I’m a bit sore all over.” She looked up at him, her wide, serious gaze searching his face. Reaching up, she brushed her fingertips across his chin.
“You’ve a terrible scrape,” she whispered.
Damn it, words felt beyond him. Never in his life had he felt this undone. This frightened. “I’m fine.” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a mouthful of rusty nails.
“And your spectacles. They’re all bent and… askew.”
“I have another pair.”
“I owe you my thanks.” He heard her swallow. “You saved my life.”
“Barely. The sight of that carriage speeding toward you will haunt me for the next decade. At least.” Lifting her hand, he pressed a fervent kiss against her fingers. “I was walking home from my father’s townhouse when I saw you standing on the opposite side of the street. You stepped into the road…” A shudder ran through him. “In your note, you wrote that Goddard would be with you. Why were you standing alone outside the park?”
“I hadn’t been alone. I’d just seen Albert, Charlotte, and Hope off. I was on my way to call upon you. To talk to you.”
A long look passed between them. Her expression gave him little hope that he would like what she had to say. Well, he had a few things to say to her as well. And as soon as he bandaged her up, she was damn well going to listen. But first he needed to warn her. He quickly told her about last night’s attacks on Catherine, his father, and Andrew.
“Meredith, you almost being run down was
Before she could reply, a knock sounded on the door. Without looking away from her, Philip said, “Come in.”
James entered, bearing a tray laden with two pitchers of water, an assortment of linen bandages, and a blue ceramic bowl covered with a handkerchief. “The bath you ordered will be ready directly. Do you need any assistance, my lord?” he asked, setting the tray on the floor next to Philip.
“No, thank you.”
The young man quit the room. Philip removed his filthy, torn jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and made a quick adjustment to his bent spectacles. Then he dampened several strips of snowy linen and began gently cleansing the dirt from her face.
“A bath will be good for you,” she said, wincing when he touched the cut at her temple. “You’re very
