“Ah, no: were on your way to Fountains. My dear girl, have you maggots in your head? There is to be a wedding. In spite of that stupid letter you brought to your solicitor, it has been agreed that you and I are to proceed with our marriage."
“But we cannot,” she cried in anguish. “I refuse to let you sacrifice yourself. Unless,” she said, a sudden thought popping into her head, “you are so far in Dun territory that you desperately need the money. In which case I will gladly give you all you require.”
A look of sheer exasperation crossed his face; then he bent over her prone form, his look intent.
“Listen to me very carefully, my love. I do not need your money.” At her sigh of relief, he smiled a trifle grimly. “In matter of fact, I have never needed your money. As near as I can piece it together, you overheard something to do with a bet I had lost, but it was a mere trifle, an exchange of money between Stephen and me that occurs all too frequently. I next won a sizable amount from him, thanks to you. But my loss had scarcely put a dent in the Harford estate funds. I do not wager unless I can easily afford to lose the sum."
She struggled to sit, and sank back against the ground in pain, her face a frozen mask.
“Nevertheless,” she said through gritted teeth, “there is no point to our marriage. Ernest eloped with Carola Dunston, who has turned into a tiger.”
“I know,” he said in an effort to stop her from talking. “However, my little heart, there is still the matter of our betrothal.”
“No need,” she muttered, fading rapidly, her lashes fluttering down to rest, utterly exhausted.
He watched, frustrated, as she slipped into unconsciousness once again. He turned with thankfulness at the sight of a doctor making his way along the road, then across to the grassy spot where Harford had carried Penelope.
Although reluctant at first, once he was assured that Harford and the injured woman were married, the doctor proceeded without shooing Harford away. He needed assistance, and the abigail was no help. Penelope’s traveling pelisse was hastily slipped off and the doctor examined her as best he could, given the primitive conditions.
“Good thing she had a gown that buttoned in front and her stays left off for comfort while she traveled,” he muttered. “Those ribs needed to be bound up, and make no mistake, she’ll be as sore as can be for a few days, at the very least.”
Harford was still trying to come to terms with the sight of his beloved arrayed in nothing from the waist up. Never had he seen such exquisite white skin, petal soft and begging to be caressed. He assisted the doctor, lifting Penny so he might wrap her up. The feel of her slight body would ever remain with him. He fully intended to have the right of access, and not before too long.
“Will I be able to return her to London?”
“Reckon she can travel that far, like as not,” declared the blunt-spoken countryman. “Slip her a bit of sleeping potion and she’ll not know a thing until you get her into bed.”
The words brought a most agreeable image to Harford’s mind and he struggled with those rather improper thoughts while transporting Penny to his carriage. Once the abigail was seen to, the baggage transferred, and the post chaise paid off, the Harford traveling carriage headed for London.
The bottle of lemonade produced by the injured Betsy enabled him to offer Penny a generous sip, well-doctored, the next time she came to. She grimaced at the horrid taste, but was far too thirsty to quibble about it. Within minutes she had sunk into a blessedly drugged sleep, unmindful of the jarring along the road or the transfer from coach to Harford House once they reached London.
She had nestled in Harford’s arms while he studied her face, memorizing every line, the way her long lashes fanned over her pale cheeks, the tiny mole he discovered near one ear. Never again would she travel without his presence.
Betsy was taken away by the housekeeper.
Lady Harford fluttered about as Jonathan carried Penny up the stairs, horrified by the sight of her torn gown, her ashen face, and the grim set of Jonathan’s mouth.
“I knew you were making a mistake not to tell her everything,” she scolded softly.
“Mother,” he ground out, his patience at the utter limit by this point.
“Well, and so I did, dear boy.” She watched as he gently placed Penelope on the bed in the best guest chamber. Then she shooed him out the door while she directed her abigail in undressing Penny and getting her beneath the covers.
Jonathan stood in the hall for a moment, wondering what his mother would say if she but knew all the circumstances of the accident. It had been partly his fault. Had he not been so blasted intent on catching up with her, that fool driver of her post chaise might not have had the stupid notion to race him to the next gate.
Weighed down with this knowledge, not to mention the vision of her slim body before it was bound tightly in a bandage, he made his way to the drawing room. He suspected that his mother would return here once she had seen to Penny.
He had worn a path in the carpet when he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall.
His mother entered, her face concerned but not overly worried. “I believe she will do well enough. Blaine says she has seen worse. Indeed, other than those bruised ribs you mentioned, there seem to be no further serious injuries. A few scratches and black-and-blue marks. Poor darling.”
Since Blaine had attended every injury and illness in the family in addition to being his mother’s competent abigail for many years, Harford felt he might relax a trifle.
He leaned against the fireplace mantel, his face a study
