Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

Roxanne laughed again, felt more of the terror ease out of her. She said, “Sophie, I cannot believe you told Manners you would chew off his cheek.”

“That exquisite threat is compliments of Vicky. Our villain here certainly didn’t like it.”

Orvald Manners, tied facedown over the back of Sophie’s sidesaddle, was cursing nonstop as the mare’s gait made him bounce up and down, pulverizing his liver. Suddenly, Manners reared up, cried out, and flopped down, unconscious.

Devlin cursed—a ripe one featuring animal parts.

They pulled up and lifted Manners out of the saddle. “Here,” Roxanne said, “put him under this tree. Not for him but for you, Devlin, to keep you out of the sun.”

“He appears to be unconscious,” Devlin said, shifting to look up at Julian.

Julian leaned down, felt the pulse in the man’s neck. “I wonder, is he trying to fool us?” and he slapped him hard.

Manners didn’t move.

Roxanne said, “Do you think he’s having a reaction from my blows with the plowshare? I did hit him as hard as I could.”

Devlin said, “I suppose it’s possible.”

“When I kicked him, I thought he was going to scream himself to death, so maybe that’s what he’s reacting to now—”

“No,” Julian said. “Kicking him there wouldn’t send him unconscious an hour later. He’d want to die immediately, but he wouldn’t.”

“Why?” Sophie asked, coming down on her knees beside the unconscious Manners.

“It’s not important,” Julian said.

Roxanne said matter-of-factly, “Papa told me I should always kick a man low in his belly before he works himself up to violence. He said it is guaranteed to focus a man’s brain elsewhere instantly. I will teach you what to do, Sophie, but Julian is right, it’s not important right now.”

Devlin rose, dusted off his britches. “Let’s haul him back on the mare’s back. By the time we arrive at Hardcross Manor, he should be awake again and cursing at the top of his lungs. I want to see Richard face-to-face with this miscreant.”

“Let’s do it,” Roxanne said. “I’m dressed a bit strangely, but who cares? At last maybe we can get this resolved.”

A smile blazed on Devlin’s sunburned face. “You look like a queen. My coat has never looked more stylish.”

She returned his smile, adding more power to hers. “And you, sir, look like a bullyboy, your sleeves rolled up and your shirt collar open, ready to take on any villain. I hope one of the gentlemen of the house can lend you a hat, Devlin. Also, some cream for your face.”

“Do you know,” Devlin said, after he’d finished tying Manners back across the mare’s sidesaddle, “a cream might be just the thing. I am feeling very warm; mayhap I can even feel my flesh beginning to crisp.”

“That is horrible,” Sophie said.

But when they reached Hardcross Manor, none were laughing nor smiling.

Manners hadn’t regained consciousness.

Devlin hefted Manners over his shoulder and walked to the front door. Julian slammed down the lion’s-head knocker, once, twice.

Victoria opened the door. “Goodness, what is this? I see you found Roxanne, but who—”

“We want to see your brother,” Devlin said. “Now.”

“He isn’t here. He and Lady Merrick came back rather quickly from their picnic, then decided, quite on the spur of the moment, to visit Saint Austell, and wasn’t it fun to be spontaneous, said she, all twittery and laughing, a quaint place her darling Richard had told her about, and since it wasn’t raining, she was perfectly prepared to enjoy herself.

“If you really want to speak to him, my lord, you could catch them, or perhaps not. Lady Merrick allowed they might take country roads, to admire the scenery, not the direct road. If you ask me, I think she wanted to admire Richard’s scenery—well, that is vulgar, isn’t it? Roxanne, I believe you should have the gentlemen chase after them, since you really aren’t dressed for it.”

“What is going on here? Who is this man? Is he dead?”

Baron Purley strode into the entrance hall, eyeing the man slung over Devlin’s shoulder.