Twelve
“OOOOH …” Sir Frederick groaned impressively and put a hand to his aching head as he drifted back into reality.
“Lie still, sir, and try not to speak just yet,” Miss Bretton ordered in firm accents.
He opened his eyes, found her face, and appeared to focus. His hand reached for her, and he winced sharply but said, “So beautiful … but … where …” He drifted off again.
Miss Bretton touched his shoulder, concerned, and he opened his light blue eyes and attempted a smile of sorts. “Hallo …” he managed.
“Sir Frederick, do you remember what occurred …?”
“You took off your mask …” he said dreamily. “Lovely …”
“There was a carriage accident … your coach went over, and you were knocked unconscious.”
“Was I?”
Miss Bretton bit her bottom lip. He appeared dazed, and if she didn’t keep him talking he would drift off again. She was certain that was not what he should do. “That’s right … you have now a large bump on your head, but we managed to get you to a very lovely inn … and my aunt Jane washed the blood from your face. She is now downstairs arranging rooms for all of us, as you may not be fit to travel for a few days.”
“You … here … with me.” He grinned idiotically.
Ordinarily she would have giggled at his expression, but matters were too serious for that, and she was deeply concerned.
“Tell me, Sir Frederick, can you move your legs?”
“Don’t want to,” he said with the same grin.
“Please?” she cooed.
“Of course, my sweet …” He made a valiant attempt and lifted first one leg under the covers and then the next, winced with pain, lay back, and sighed heavily.
“I do not think you have broken your legs, but your arm may have sustained an injury.” She sighed and added, “Lady Babs has gone in search of the doctor. They should be here any moment, and then we will know for certain. Your driver had a quick look at you and tells us you are badly bruised all over, so you must lie still.”
“My heart …” he said dreamily.
“Oh no … no … have you a pain in your heart …?” she cried with great distress.
“No, my heart … filled with you …” he said and nodded off.
“Dear … oh dear …” Miss Bretton said, but she couldn’t help the slight smile that curved her lips. She moved to adjust his covers, but his bare left arm looked twice its size. Oh no, she thought, his arm is broken and will need to be set.
***
Babs watched the duke at the reins with open admiration. Glancing her way, he caught her look. His sensuous lips formed a wide smile. “Y-es?”
She laughed. “I was only thinking how well you handle the reins. This is no easy conveyance to drive.”
“Thank you,” he said, and Babs noted that he sat taller in his seat.
“I am ever so glad you came along,” she said and then stopped herself. She wasn’t sure if she should voice her next question. However, ever impulsive, she dove right in. “I don’t quite understand though …”
“What don’t you understand?”
“Last night, when I mentioned that I would be leaving London for Brighton this morning, you said that you would not be setting out for Brighton till next week.” She frowned. “And even if you changed your mind and were on your way there, you are off the beaten path a bit … aren’t you?” She peeped at him after this last comment. “Are you lost?” She added this last to bait him further and get an answer.
“When you nearly landed yourself in a ditch by barreling in front of my phaeton, I was not on my way to Brighton and certainly not lost,” was his answer. He further frustrated her by grinning broadly.
She waited a moment while her brain went into action. Was he here to see a woman? Was that why he was in the area? A sudden depression swished through her system, and she turned away from him to contemplate the countryside.