Page 6 of 21 Days with the Lyon

B ianca’s body felt so light it might float away. She held on to Theo to anchor herself, burying her nose in the material of his coat—the clean, musky scent of him surrounding her. This was where she wanted to be—in his arms. She felt safe and warm and content. How could it be that a man she hadn’t known eight days ago had become someone she couldn’t cease thinking about? Someone she wished would touch her, look at her, kiss her.

And now he’d done all of that and more. Still, he was not hers. Ironic that she’d had men so eager to marry her she’d had to flee. Now she’d found a man she wanted, and she couldn’t have him.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he said, his voice rumbling in his chest. “We don’t want to be found like this.”

She turned her head to look up at his jaw. “I’m supposed to be seducing you, so you’ll ask me to marry you,” she said. “No one is trying to keep us apart.”

“That explains why your maid is such a poor chaperone.”

“Yes, but despite her clear failure to do her duty, it turns out I failed miserably seducing you. You seduced me.”

His lips curved upward in the ghost of a smile. “I’ll let you do the seducing next time.”

She lifted her head from his chest. “Will there be a next time?”

“Unfortunately”—he lifted her from his lap and set her gently on the cushions—“I think there had better not be. Else I will have to marry you.”

“I wouldn’t mind that so much. Is the prospect so horrible to you?”

She didn’t know why she’d asked. She didn’t want the answer.

He gave her a sympathetic look, and she immediately wished she could wipe it off his face. She didn’t want his sympathy or his pity.

“No man would find the prospect of marrying you horrible. It’s you who should keep clear of me.”

“You keep telling me how unsuitable you are, and I have yet to understand why. What is it you’ve done that I would find so repulsive?”

“Other than lose everything I own to Mrs. Dove-Lyon? Or perhaps it’s when I angered my father enough that he cut me off.”

Bianca tucked her stocking-clad feet under her skirts. “If your father is anything like mine, you can win him back with a few overtures. I imagine he only cut you off because he was worried about you.”

Theo rose and walked over to the hearth, his back to her.

“You know, when Mrs. Dove-Lyon first told us about you, I thought I might have to suffer a husband who couldn’t resist the lure of the dice and cards. But you don’t seem to miss the gambling hell at all.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why did you waste your time there? Is the thing that drove you there the same thing that would make you a poor husband?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I see. So it’s fine for me to talk about the pain of my mother’s death and missing my first Season and how I still grieve for her, but you won’t tell me the smallest detail about you. That hardly seems fair.”

“I never claimed to be fair.” He turned to face her. “In fact, I’ve done nothing but warn you away from me. If you were half as clever as I thought, you would heed that warning.”

“You want me to leave you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Even after what we just”—she pointed to the couch—“what just happened?”

“Even more reason.”

“You think I should just give up on you, ignore my feelings for you?”

“Oh, God. You don’t have feelings for me, Bianca. It’s just lust.”

She jumped up, shoving her feet into her shoes. “I think I know my own feelings, Theo. It’s more than lust. And I think you feel more than that too.”

“I don’t.”

The words felt like a blow, but she didn’t let him see that he’d hurt her. “Liar,” she said, summoning her bravado. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, it’s too late for that.”

He looked away from her, and she swept across the room to a small bookshelf. She pulled a lever, and it swung open.

“What the devil?” Theo said. “Is that a secret door?”

Bianca didn’t answer him. Instead, she passed through the door and ran up the stairs to her bedchamber. Of course, as soon as she reached the sanctuary of her room, she realized she’d left her book in the library. Fortunately, she had another by her bed. She flopped on the mattress and wondered if she could possibly avoid Theo for the next thirteen days. Why on earth had she allowed him to kiss her, to touch her? Now she only wanted him to do so again.

She’d needed a husband, but when she made this bargain with her father and Mrs. Dove-Lyon, she’d forgotten to take one thing into consideration—the man she was to marry. She had been so worried about being forced into marriage that she didn’t realize she would be forcing a man into marrying her . She’d thought any man would fall at her feet. Men usually did once they realized the size of her dowry. But Theo didn’t seem to care about her wealth or her beauty. For whatever reason, he was against marrying her.

Could Mrs. Dove-Lyon really force him to wed her? Probably. After all, she’d forced him to travel to Godwin Priory as her protector. But Bianca didn’t want to marry a man who didn’t want her. A small voice in her mind told her that he did want her. Would he have touched her like he had, kissed her like he did, if he didn’t want her?

But perhaps it was simply lust on his part. Perhaps that was all he could feel. Bianca looked at the window, streaked with rivulets of rain, and wiped the wetness from her own cheeks.

Day Nine

Coward that she was, Bianca spent the rest of that afternoon in her chamber and had Cook send dinner up as well. Idiot that she was, she hoped that Theo would come and knock on her door, ask if she was well and possibly fall on one knee, admit his mistake, and confess his undying love. Instead, she spent her time stroking Astra and hugging the dog when she felt sad.

In the end, she went to bed early and woke just as early the next day. The rain had finally stopped, and she asked Dickson to fetch her boots and dress her in her old brown dress so she needn’t worry about ruining the hem if she walked through mud. At this point, Bianca wanted fresh air. Once she cleared her head, she could face Theo. She would put on a brave face and keep him at arm’s length the rest of their time together. When her father came to collect her, she’d tell him to pay Theo’s debts and find her another husband. He’d be annoyed, but there was nothing for it. She would not marry Mr. Theophile Filliol.

Astra had opened one eye, blinked at her, and gone back to sleep. “Lazy bones,” Bianca chided the dog. She stomped downstairs and stopped in the dining room. Theo wasn’t there, and Crosby informed her that the gentleman was still abed. She waved away the offer to rouse him. The last thing she wanted was his company.

Instead, she went outside and walked to the barn. She chatted with the grooms and even had a few words with Mr. Tyler. Everyone wanted to talk about the rains yesterday and how high the waters of the moat had risen.

“Is the water out of its banks?” she asked Mr. Tyler.

“It was yesterday, but the waters have already receded. I hope you don’t want to go visiting today, miss.”

“Why?”

“The old wooden bridge is out.”

This was no surprise to Bianca. The bridge was just past the turnoff to Godwin Priory from the main road. She didn’t know when it had been built, although she assumed it was hundreds of years ago. At least once every two years, a heavy rain made the river swell and damaged the bridge. Then Mr. Tyler had to hire local farm hands and spend a week repairing it. She might still cross the river on horseback, but a coach would have to wait for the repairs.

“Will it be fixed before my father is due to arrive?”

Mr. Tyler looked at the sky. “If this weather holds, I can start on it today.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tyler.”

Bianca moved away, strolling into the garden. The rains would do the flowers good. In a few days, they’d all be in bloom. She’d have to show Theo and—No, she wouldn’t show him. She was keeping him at arm’s length.

The sun was just peeking out from behind some clouds, and Bianca could tell it would be one of those glorious days that was cool and sunny with a light breeze. Perfect walking weather. Many of her favorite walks would be muddy and waterlogged, but the northern path was higher in elevation and most likely dry. She hadn’t walked that way since she’d been back. The fields that way lay fallow this year, but normally they were planted with wheat or barley. They’d probably be green with grass and wildflowers and quite lovely under the morning sun.

She found one of her old walking sticks leaning against a fruit tree and started toward the northern stretch of her family’s land.

The walk did exactly what she’d hoped. She cleared her mind of any thoughts of Theo, and the exercise helped her body forget his touch. Instead, her thoughts wandered to all the times she’d walked this way in the past. She remembered picking spring wildflowers along the path with Kitty to make a bouquet for their mother. This had been the way she walked with her father when he told her about her mother’s illness. Astra had accompanied her on this walk many, many times. She loved scampering about, chasing rabbits, and rolling in the grass. Bianca should have gone back to the house and called for Astra to come with her.

She heard a twig snap and a rustling of leaves and looked back, half expecting to see the dog. But the path behind her was empty. She’d bring Astra next time.

Up ahead was a slight rise, where she could see the fallow fields and a bend in the river. Using her walking stick, she trudged upward. At the top was a low stone wall that had stood here longer even than the priory. She leaned her stick against it and climbed on top, letting her feet dangle on one side.

The green fields spread out below. They were indeed dotted with wildflowers. She could see the Aldridge farm to the east. Their sheep were in the pasture. From this distance the animals resembled fluffy white clouds on a green sky. The river ran past the pasture, and though the water moved quicker than usual, it was back in its banks. She’d tell Mr. Tyler—

A hand clamped over her mouth, and another circled her waist. Before she could fight, Bianca was hauled off the wall and yanked backward. She tried to scream, but the hand on her mouth held fast. The glove over the hand smelled of leather and horse. She grabbed at the hand about her waist, trying to dislodge it, but couldn’t manage a firm grip. It was all she could do to move her feet so she would not be dragged along the rocky ground.

Then she was under the shade of the nearby sycamore tree, a large and ancient tree she had climbed many times when she was younger. She was hauled upright and turned to face the enormous tree trunk. A man with a bicorn hat low over his forehead stepped out from behind it. Bianca didn’t know the man, but she knew his kind. She knew exactly what this was. And yet she seemed to be watching her own abduction as though from underwater. She couldn’t seem to fight or even do anything more than stare at the fortune hunter in his damp wool coat and mud-caked boots.

“This ’er?” the man holding her asked.

“That’s her, yes.” The man eying her had an upper-class accent and his eyes cut from side to side like an anxious deer’s. “Where is Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s man? Have you seen him about?”

“She came ’ere alone. Walked right into our trap, she did.”

For some reason, those words snapped Bianca from her stupor. She was not trapped. And she certainly wouldn’t allow herself to be taken without a fight. She lifted one foot and brought it down hard on her captor’s foot. Though he wore boots, they were not the sturdy sort worn in the countryside—they were thin boots made for city streets. Her heel smashed into the top of the man’s foot.

“Bloody ’ell!” He jumped back, loosening his grip just enough that Bianca was able to squirm free. She didn’t think, didn’t even look about. She ran. The clear path was toward the stone wall. If she could climb over, she’d run to the Aldridges’ house and beg for help. Perhaps they had a man in the fields right now who might come to help her.

“Help!” she yelled.

But her cries were cut off when a hand grasped the back of her dress and yanked her down. She rolled over, landing on her front with the upper-class man holding her down. “Not so fast, miss,” he said, panting. “You’re coming with me.”

She struggled to escape his hold, feeling the damp earth penetrate her dress and chill her skin.

“Bring me a rope!” the man called. “She’s fighting like a cat!”

In that moment, she did manage to squirm out from under him. She rose to her knees and might have gained her feet if her legs hadn’t tangled in her skirts. The man caught her arm and pushed her, this time holding her shoulders down as he looked at the sycamore and presumably his partner.

Bianca was winded now. She gulped air.

“You just lie there like a good girl,” the man said. “I haven’t sat in a leaky shed for three days to lose you now.”

Bianca blinked at him. He’d been hiding on the estate for three days? He’d probably been waiting for his opportunity to abduct her, and this morning she’d foolishly played right into his hands. Except…

“Where do…you think…to take me?” she asked, panting.

“I have a coach at the inn up the road,” he said. “We’ll be in Gretna Green in a couple of days. I won’t hurt you. I just want to marry you. I need your dowry. It’s nothing personal. Rope, Hawkins! Now!”

The hired man was approaching with a long coil of rope. Bianca knew if he managed to tie her, she would never get away.

“Bridge is out,” she said. “Can’t get across.”

“What’s that? The bridge?” He looked at his companion. “That’s damned inconvenient. But where there’s a will…”

He reached for the rope, and Bianca made her last desperate move. She rolled to the side, dislodging his grip. This time she managed to stumble to her feet and race toward the wall. Shouts sounded behind her, but she didn’t stop to look around. Was that a dog barking?

She ran for the wall, threw one leg over, and then the other. “Help!” she cried as she slid over. She’d just gained the other side when a hand reached out for her shoulder, yanking her back. She might have shrugged it off, but the ground beneath her feet was muddy, and her ankle twisted. Then the hand caught her hair, and she was falling backward. She pinwheeled her arms, trying desperately to right herself, but one moment she was looking down at the dots of white sheep and the next moment her eyes were on the sky. Then her head hit the hard stone of the wall and she was falling. Pain lanced through her as she hit the ground. She tried to keep her eyes open, but the blackness swallowed her.

Theo opened his eyes, immediately awake. He shot up and out of bed, his senses on alert. He turned in a circle, surveying his chamber. Nothing was out of place. No sign of danger.

And yet something was not right.

He sat back on the bed and tried to catch his breath. But his heart pounded, and he couldn’t shake the sense of panic. This had something to do with Bianca. Theo couldn’t help sense his connection with her—though most likely a product of his imagination—felt tenuous at the moment. He had to see her, make certain she was well.

He pulled on his clothing from yesterday and flung the door of his chamber open. The dog sat outside his door. Theo narrowed his eyes at the creature. The dog didn’t prefer him, but in the past few days had seemed to accept Theo’s presence and trust him. Still, the beast didn’t seek him out. What the devil was she doing sitting outside his door?

“Where’s Bianca?” Theo asked, feeling like an idiot for speaking to a dog who couldn’t answer back.

The dog whined. Theo raced down the stairs, encountering Crosby at the base of the stairs. “Where is your mistress?”

“She went out, sir,” Crosby said, his gaze roving over Theo’s rumpled clothing. The dog barked, and Crosby jumped.

“When did she leave?”

“A quarter hour ago at most. Why?”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No. Is something amiss?”

“Where is Mr. Tyler?”

“I don’t know. What is the matter?”

“Nothing!” Theo yelled, starting to run now. “Everything!” He burst out the door and blinked at the morning sunlight. “Tyler!” he bellowed. “Tyler!”

The dog barked and started running in the direction of the barn. Theo followed, wishing he’d thought to put a coat over his shirt. He was cold and felt exposed. He was almost to the barn when Tyler emerged, his expression concerned. The dog barked and then sniffed the ground, moving away.

“What is the matter? Is it Miss Featherswallow?” Tyler asked, wild-eyed.

“Where is she?”

“I saw her just a little while ago. She was absolutely fine.”

Theo grabbed the man by the collar and shook him. “Where is she now?”

“How should I know? We discussed the rains and the fact that the bridge is out. Then she left. I’m not her keeper.”

No, Theo thought. I’m supposed to be keeping her safe. And I’ve failed. Again.

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No.” Tyler pointed in the direction of the garden. “Astra seems to have picked up her scent.”

Theo released the man and watched the dog, who did seem interested in a scent and appeared to be following it into the garden. “Astra, find Bianca,” he said.

The dog ignored him, nose to the ground, weaving a seemingly erratic path into the garden then over to a fruit tree. She barked then started off on a path to the north.

“She must have taken the northern path,” Tyler said. Theo hadn’t even realized the steward had followed him.

“Do you know the way?”

“Yes. There’s an old Roman wall with a nice view of the river and the Aldridge farm.”

“Show me,” Theo said.

“Very well. Let me just—”

Theo grabbed the man’s coat. “Now, Tyler. Hurry.”

Tyler shook him off. “I’ll be writing to the viscount about this treatment. Mark my words.”

“You do that,” Theo said. “Just take me to Bianca first.”

The steward started along an overgrown path, following the dog. Astra looked at the men then barked and bounded ahead. Theo couldn’t tell if she thought this some sort of game or if she had truly caught Bianca’s scent. But as they moved farther away from the house, the path Tyler had mentioned became more visible, a line of soft earth cut through the grass. Theo wasn’t sure he would have seen it if he hadn’t been looking.

As they walked, he realized they were climbing somewhat higher, the incline gradual, a much easier march than that up the Mound. He saw no sign of Bianca, but Astra raced ahead now, clearly knowing the way.

“There’s nothing to be concerned about,” Tyler said. “She’s walked this path since she was this high.” He held his hand to his knee. “And I’ve been all over the estate these past days. I’ve seen nothing unusual.”

“The estate is eight acres,” Theo said. “You can’t possibly see every part of it every day.” He wanted to hit something. Damn Bianca! He had told her not to go off alone. The least she might have done was to take the dog with her.

Astra barked then and raced ahead.

“Bianca!” Theo yelled.

“The dog has probably just caught wind of a hare,” Tyler said.

But that was when they both heard the yell.

Theo ran, his legs burning and his heart thundering. He topped the rise and spotted two men looking over the Roman wall Tyler had mentioned. Astra stood back, barking at them. One man held a coil of rope, and the other was wide-eyed, looking from the ground on the other side of the wall to the barking dog.

“Where is she?” Theo bellowed, charging toward the men. The man with the rope gave him one look then hopped the wall and started running. Astra went after him, then doubled back, sniffing at something on the ground.

The other man, a gentleman if his clothes were any indication, lifted both hands in appeasement. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. It was an accident. She ran, and I only tried to catch her.”

“Where is she?” Theo bellowed. “Where is Bianca?”

The man looked down. Theo followed his gaze to the other side of the low stone wall. He sprinted forward, and the gentleman stumbled backward, obviously afraid Theo was coming for him. “I swear! I never intended to hurt her. My debts—”

But Theo ignored him, jumped the stone wall, and spotted Bianca’s lifeless body on the ground. She was lying on her side, her dark hair tangled about her face, obscuring it. Astra pawed at her shoulder and whined.

Somewhere, far away, Theo heard Tyler telling the gentleman he needed to step away from the wall and come with him. Even further away, Theo heard the man blubbering on about how he never meant any harm.

“Bianca?” he said, brushing the hair away from her lovely face, which was pale but unharmed. But as he pushed her hair back, his hand came away wet and sticky. He looked at the blood and parted her hair to see the rather concerning gash on the back of her head.

“I didn’t do that!” the gentleman argued. “She fell back and hit her head. I never touched her!”

“Mr. Tyler,” Theo said, the hot rage inside him turning icy cold, “take this man into custody. I’ll carry Miss Featherswallow back down to the house. We’ll need the doctor.”

“That might be difficult, sir. The bridge is out.”

Theo bent and carefully began to lift Bianca. She moaned. He studied her face, which contorted in pain before going slack again. He tried lifting her again, and that was when he noted the odd angle of the arm she’d been lying on. The lower bone was clearly broken, else the arm wouldn’t be bent that way.

As gently as he could, Theo laid the injured arm across her chest and lifted her. “Her arm is broken,” he announced as he gingerly climbed over the wall. He jostled her a bit too much, but she didn’t wake or move. Probably for the best.

“I never touched her arm!” the gentleman protested.

“Shut up or I will shut you up,” Theo said, voice low. The man closed his mouth. “Mr. Tyler, I don’t care if you have to send a raft or carry the doctor across the river yourself. We need him right away.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll need the magistrate as well,” Theo said, eying the gentleman. “Make sure this one doesn’t get away.”

“Yes, sir.”

The three men started back down to the house, Astra whining and keeping close to Theo’s heels. Theo was as gentle as possible, but he knew all the jostling couldn’t be good for Bianca. The trek seemed interminable. When they were closer to the house, one of the gardeners spotted them and called out, and soon Mrs. Port and several maids came racing out of the house.

The housekeeper rushed up to Theo. “Oh, merciful heavens! What has happened?”

“Build up the fire in Miss Featherswallow’s room,” he said, “and bring clean water and bandages. She’s hit her head and broken her arm. If you have any medicines, bring those as well. We need to get her in bed and comfortable.”

Mr. Tyler had shoved the gentlemen into the hands of one of the gardeners. “I’ll take one of the grooms and go fetch the doctor myself.”

“Be quick about it,” Theo said. He took a breath. “As quick as you can be with the ground and the river as it is.” No point in anyone else being injured today. If Tyler drowned trying to ford the river, that wouldn’t see the doctor here any faster.

Theo’s arms ached as he carried Bianca up the main staircase and to her chamber. He hadn’t felt her weight coming down the path, but now fatigue and fear crashed over him. He’d failed. Again. He should have never accepted this position. He’d known he would fail.

A maid held Bianca’s door open, and he carried her inside, holding her over the large bed. He noticed nothing else about the chamber, only that Bianca looked very pale lying in his arms.

“I can care for her from here, Mr. Filliol,” Mrs. Port said.

“I’m not leaving,” Theo said.

“But sir,” Dickson protested. She was Bianca’s maid and supposed chaperone. “It’s not proper.”

“Damn propriety to hell. I’m not leaving. Now, am I taking her boots off, or are you?”

Dickson opened her mouth then closed it again and went to work on the boots. When they were off, Theo nodded to the bed. “Where are those bandages? Her head is bleeding.”

“They are coming, sir,” Mrs. Port said. “If you will leave her with me, we should remove her dress.”

“We’ll need scissors for that,” Theo said, ignoring her suggestion that he leave. “Her arm is broken, and we shouldn’t move it. The best thing is to cut the material off her.” He’d seen this done a hundred times or more during the war.

Dickson stepped away for a moment then returned with the sharp scissors used for sewing. “You’ll need to set her down, sir.”

Theo glanced at the bed again. It was covered in white and would soon be muddy and dirty if he laid her there. Instead, he lowered her gently onto a chaise longue at the foot of the bed. Dickson went to work, cutting away the dress material.

“Not that sleeve,” Theo said when the maid paused at the sight of Bianca’s twisted arm. “Leave it for now.”

The door opened, and a maid with a pitcher of water and a bowl of bandages and towels entered.

“Good,” Theo said, dumping the bandages out of the bowl and pouring the water into it. He dipped a towel in the water. “Lift her head slightly, Dickson.”

The maid did so, and Theo pressed the towel to the back. It came away red. He repeated the gesture several more times, until the water in the basin was scarlet. “More water,” he said. But he could see the bleeding had slowed and the wound was not deep. He wrapped a bandage about her head to stanch the bleeding.

“We should put her in bed, sir,” Mrs. Port said.

“I’ll do it.” Theo looked down at Bianca, dressed only in her chemise with the sleeve of her dress still covering her broken arm. He lifted her gently, as careful as he could be not to move her arm, and carried her to the bed. He set her head on the pillow then slid his hands out from under her. Mrs. Port immediately pulled the covers up around her mistress, tucking them under her chin. Theo was sweating, the fire in the room too hot for him, but it was necessary to keep Bianca warm. He’d felt how cold she was when he held her.

The maid returned with water, and Theo cleaned the wound again and wrapped it with fresh linen. Then he wiped her face and studied the tray of medicines that had been placed on a tray on the bedside table. “Let’s see if we can get her to take some laudanum,” he said. He didn’t know how long it would be until the doctor arrived, and the laudanum would ease her pain. She was propped on the pillow, and he moved behind her and lifted her upright further so Mrs. Port might administer a spoonful of the medicine.

The housekeeper had obviously done this before. She moved with practiced efficiency. As the woman struggled to open Bianca’s lips, Theo found himself whispering, “Come on, sweetheart. Open your mouth. Take just a little bit. I promise it will help you feel better. That’s it, sweetheart.”

Mrs. Port managed to administer a few drops. Some of it dribbled down Bianca’s chin, but her maid caught the excess with a towel. “Just a bit more,” the housekeeper said, pushing the spoon between Bianca’s pale lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Theo said as more medicine went into her mouth. He laid her down again, careful of her head. “Now, sleep,” he said before moving away, well aware the women in the room were watching him.

“I’ll sit with her,” Dickson said. “You’ve done more than enough, sir.”

“I’m not leaving,” he said. He’d left her once and she’d come back in this state. He would not leave her side again.

“Sir,” Mrs. Port said, hands going to her hips, “I really must insist you leave the care of Miss Featherswallow to us. We have cared for her since she was a babe. We are perfectly capable of doing so now.”

“I’m not—”

“In addition,” the housekeeper continued, “your presence here is quite improper. You should dress and see to the man Mr. Tyler brought. I will be more than happy to give you reports of Miss Featherswallow’s progress.”

The mention of the gentleman who’d been caught with Bianca stopped Theo’s arguments. That fellow could not be allowed to go unpunished. “I’ll be back,” he told the housekeeper, then exited the room and went directly downstairs. “Where is he?” he asked Crosby.

“In the great room, sir,” the underbutler said.

Theo banged the door open, startling the man who sat on a chair and sipped tea. Tea! Like he was a bloody houseguest. Theo wanted to slap the cup out of his hand. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because the man set the cup down, rose, and held up two hands protectively. “I never meant to hurt her.”

Theo advanced slowly, his fists clenched. “So you keep saying.”

“How is she?”

“The same. Give me one reason not to kill you right now.”

“You’ll hang for it. I’m Lord Michael Thisby, younger son of the Duke of Cressly. You don’t want to kill a peer.”

Theo narrowed his eyes. He very much did want to kill this man.

Lord Michael’s eyes widened. “Listen, I swear to God I meant her no harm. I just wanted to take her to Gretna Green to marry her. I wouldn’t have hurt her. I wouldn’t have touched her.”

Being a peer himself, the son of an earl, Theo was not overly worried about the consequences of killing the idiot. But he could hardly strangle a man who was apologizing so profusely.

“I swear I never meant to hurt her,” Lord Michael blubbered. “She tried to run, and I grabbed for her. She fell back and hit her head on the stones. I didn’t mean for it to happen. When she fell, I heard the crunch. I never touched her arm. You must believe me.”

“You will answer to the magistrate for this,” Theo said.

Lord Michael nodded, closing his eyes in clear relief. He’d obviously rather deal with the magistrate than Theo.

“Crosby!” Theo called.

“Yes, sir.” Crosby stepped into the doorway.

“Put Lord Michael somewhere secure. Lock him in and do not let him out until the magistrate arrives.”

“Now wait a moment,” Lord Michael protested. “You can’t lock me up. Who do you think you are?”

“Theophile Filliol, youngest son of the Earl of Huntingdonshire. Crosby?”

“Right away, sir.”

Two large footmen appeared and grabbed Lord Michael by the arms. They ushered him away as he called for them to unhand him, until he was too far away to be heard.

“I had water for a bath sent to your chamber, sir,” Crosby said. “I thought you might want to wash and dress before the doctor arrived.”

Theo wanted nothing more than to return to Bianca’s room. But he supposed he should put on fresh clothing. Washing would give him time to figure out how to get past Mrs. Port. She wouldn’t readily admit him back into Bianca’s chamber.

Fortunately, he knew another entrance.