Forever Yours Series Bundle (Book 4-6)

“I fear the occupants in the other carriages may be hurt. I heard screams a few seconds ago. I tasked my brother to investigate, but he seemed to be afraid of getting his fine waistcoat wet!”

Her voice was sweet and refined, and quite annoyed.

“Good God, Mira, it is squalling outside. Surely you did not really expect me to go out in that. I also asked the coachman and his tiger to look,” the viscount huffed.

She muttered something under her breath, then said with perfect clarity, “I believe Mamma has fainted. She was quite hysterical a few minutes past and then she collapsed on the cushions,” she said worriedly.

Simon leaned in to check the lady’s pulse. It was strong and steady. “There is no indication of serious distress,” he reassured the daughter, dipping into his medical bag. He wafted an aromatic vinaigrette below the lady’s nose, she twitched then groaned, but kept her eyes closed.

“My man is coming behind me with a carriage pulled by a team of four. He will escort you to my home a few miles from here. I’ll arrange for your valises to be taken there as well.”

“Thank you,” the young lady gasped. “We are most appreciative of your kindness, Sir.”

“And where is your home?” the brother asked with arrogant disdain. “I cannot imagine anything presentable or of reasonable quality in this godforsaken part of Hertfordshire. Are there no inns nearby?”

Simon ignored him, quickly dismounted, and headed over to the next carriage. He wrenched the door open and spied a wailing lady clutching a small boy in her arms. There was a deep gash on his head, and he bled profusely.

“My Tommy won’t wake,” she said, crying copiously.

Simon entered the carriage and took the boy from her. He appeared around e

ight years of age. Simon arranged him on the seat of the carriage and pressed a clean strip of linen soaked in crushed-berry vinegar to the wound. “There now, let me attend him. I’m a doctor.”

The lady visibly wilted with relief. The boy’s pulse was a bit weak and more erratic. Simon scrutinized the boy’s head, seeking more cuts and bumps and did not find any. He dipped into his bag, retrieved more bandages, and quickly wrapped them around the open gash. “My home is a few miles away. If you will allow me to escort you there.”

“Are they well?” a voice cried from behind him.

He twisted around to see the young lady from the next carriage standing in the rain. Her bonnet hung limply on her forehead hiding most of her features, and the narrow-waisted dress clung alluringly to her slim, elegant figure.

She pushed her head inside the carriage. “Is there anything I can do to assist, Sir?”

The offer surprised him so much he stared for a few seconds. "Mrs.….” He turned to the still weeping woman.

“Mrs. Denniston,” she hiccupped.

Simon nodded. “Mrs. Denniston could use some comfort. Her son has taken quite a knock on the head and must be attended to right away.”

The clatter of his carriage sounded, and the young lady glanced around. “I believe your carriage is here, Sir!”

And so it was. The young lady stepped back, and he stepped out of the carriage. He beckoned one of the footmen over, who jumped into the carriage, lifted the boy and placed him in Simon’s arm. The young lady, Mira if he recalled the name her brother used correctly, hurried over and assisted Mrs. Denniston down. A loud gasp sounded from the young lady, and he shifted his regard to them and immediately saw the cause for that breathy sound.

Mrs. Denniston’s bosoms were fairly spilling out of her red dress, and upon closer inspection, he supposed she would not be the kind of woman with whom a young lady would consort. A memory teased, and he seemed to recall a rumor that Esquire Johnson had retained the widowed Mrs. Denniston as his mistress.

A swell of admiration rose for the young lady, as she gently took Mrs. Denniston’s hand and led her off the bridge to the waiting carriage. Upon his approach he heard Mira gently assuring her that Tommy would be well, assurances Simon himself never gave. A head wound might very well be perilous, though he would do everything in his power to ensure the boy mend.

Mrs. Denniston was made comfortable in the carriage, and he laid the boy on the cushions and placed his head gently in her lap. Then he dipped into his bag and waved smelling salts under his nose. The boy jerked, and that was a good enough sign for Simon.

The viscount hurried over with their mother clasped against his side, and from the look of it, she had come around. They entered the carriage, and she shuffled over to the corner, her wide violet eyes pinned on Mrs. Denniston’s revealing attire.

The rain had blessedly lessened, and Simon hurriedly closed the door on the occupants—Mira, her mother and brother, Mrs. Denniston and her son Tommy.

“Take them to the manor,” he said. “Send more men to attend with unhitching the horses and lead them to the stables. The village blacksmith will also need to attend to the carriages.”

Everyone hurried to do his bidding, and Simon made his way over to his horse and followed.

A large-boned and quite handsome woman ushered Miranda, her brother, and Mamma inside a large and brightly lit manor house. When the carriage had drawn up in the circular driveway, the doctor had assisted Mrs. Denniston and her son toward a side entrance and disappeared with them. This lady had been awaiting them and had urged them inside before the rains returned. Inside was warm, inviting, and the scent of lemon, beeswax, and roasting meat was redolent on the air. Miranda’s stomach made an embarrassing rumble, reminding her they had not eaten since breaking their fast early that morning before departing the inn.

“I’m Mrs. Clayton, and I am the housekeeper here at Riversend Manor. I’ll soon show you to your rooms and supper will be ready by seven. There are blankets in the parlor with tea and cakes, if you’ll follow me,” she said with a kind smile.