Eleanor sat there silently while the two noblemen conversed, all the while wishing Damon would move on. Couldn't he tell that she wanted nothing more to do with him?
She was in full accord when Prince Lazzara eventually ended the discussion of his country and bowed again, then snapped the reins and sent his grays trotting off at a brisk pace.
Eleanor resisted the urge to look behind her to see if Damon was watching their departure, yet she felt his gaze following her as they picked up speed.
She clutched at the side rail when the grays broke into a canter-but then suddenly the phaeton gave a lurch, followed by a violent jolt.
Thrown sideways against the prince, Eleanor gasped, while behind her, the tiger gave a yelp as he was tossed off his perch. It took her another shocked moment for her to realize that a rear wheel had come off the phaeton.
Startled, the frightened horses bolted into a gallop and went careening down the Row, heedless of the carriages and riders directly in their path. Prince Laz-zara not only had lost complete control of his pair but had dropped the reins and was clinging to the rail with both hands.
Desperately struggling for balance herself, Eleanor lunged for the reins and managed to grab the left ones, which sent the team veering off the avenue onto the grass, heading directly toward a stand of elms. Her heart pounding, she hauled with all her might, yet she feared she would have no success in stopping the frenzied horses in time to prevent a catastrophic wreck.
She was only vaguely aware of the sound of hoof-beats beside her and the flash of black as Damon charged past the phaeton. When he came alongside the nearest gray, he strove to catch the bridle. To her amazement and awe, he was able to guide the frightened pair a few degrees off their disastrous course.
Together they eventually slowed the carriage and brought it to a shuddering halt. For a moment Damon stayed where he was, calming the trembling grays in a low, soothing tone. But his dark eyes found Eleanor's blue ones with penetrating force.
“God, Elle, are you all right?” he demanded, worry making his voice sharp.
Her heart racing, she nodded. “Yes,” she said breathlessly as she sat upright-an awkward task considering that the leather seat was canted at an unnatural angle. “Thank you for saving us.”
He stared at her another long moment. Then to her surprise, Damon's eyebrow lifted, while his mouth curved at the corner. “Oh, I suspect expressions of gratitude are premature. With your quick reflexes, you might have managed it all on your own.”
It was deplorable, how her heart warmed at his praise, and so was the flush that heated her cheeks.
“Si,” an unsteady Italian voice broke in. “That was quite courageous of you, Donna Eleanora.”
She had actually forgotten her companion, Eleanor realized, chiding her thoughtlessness as she tore her gaze from Damon's.
Don Antonio looked rather shaken as he righted himself. “I am in your debt, Lord Wrexham,” he added, not sounding happy about it.
“You lost a wheel, your highness-”
“An unnecessary observation, my lord,” the prince muttered rather stiffly.
The Beldon groom came running up then and went to the horses’ heads, all the while apologizing profusely and begging his mistress's pardon for being thrown off.
Eleanor hastened to reassure first the lad and then soothe the prince's wounded pride, certain that Fanny would advise her to do so quickly. “Of course you would have easily saved us had the reins not been torn from your hands, your highness.”
“Indeed, I would have done so,” Antonio answered with a measurable decrease in frostiness at the encouraging smile Eleanor gave him.
Watching from his position on his horse, Damon felt his jaw clench. Seeing Elle favor that rake with such a sweet, alluring smile set his teeth on edge. Especially since his heart was still lodged in his throat from the sight of her possibly being dragged to her death.
Edging his mount closer to her, he held out his hand. “Allow me to take you home, Lady Eleanor.”
Her eyebrows arched up in surprise. “You do not actually think I would be so improper as to ride tandem with you?”
It was on the tip of Damon's tongue to reply that she had done so before, but he doubted Eleanor would want to advertise their former intimacy to her companion. Instead, he merely murmured, “It may be some time before a wheelwright can be found to repair Prince Lazzara's phaeton.”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “But we should have no difficulty finding someone with a carriage to come to our aid. Ah, there is the Dowager Countess Haviland in her barouche.” Eleanor turned to the Italian nobleman. “Lady Haviland is a bosom friend of my aunt's, your highness. I have no doubt she will offer to carry us home in her carriage once she has finished her morning promenade of the park.”
“That should suffice admirably, mia signorina,” he replied in a charming tone as he raised her gloved hand to his lips. “I regret that I have put you to such trouble.”
“Truly, it is no trouble,” Eleanor said, letting her hand linger in the prince's grasp far longer than was warranted, to Damon's mind.
“But this mishap endangered your very life. My servants will hear of this outrage, you may be sure.”
“Your servants may not be to blame, your highness, and you most certainly are not. It is not uncommon for a carriage wheel to come off. Besides, a little excitement can enliven the day.”