Page 82 of Second Duke's the Charm

The horse reared at the sudden change. Tess pulled hard on the reins, even as she started to topple sideways off the seat.

“Tess!” Justin grabbed her skirts, barely stopping her from falling out of the dangerously listing cab. He grasped the reins with his other hand, adding his strength to hers, and together they managed to drag it to a juddering, bouncing halt.

Justin leapt down and went to the horse’s head to quieten him. Tess climbed to the ground and bent over, panting and shaking in delayed reaction.

Dear God, that had been close!Either one of them could have fallen and broken a leg. Or worse.

Justin unhitched the horse, stroking its neck to soothe it. He tied it to a tree, then returned to inspect the wheel.

“That was bloody close,” he frowned. “What happened?”

Tess stared at the splintered wood. “I’ve never had three spokes give way at the same time. Jones, the cartwright, must have used a defective piece of timber.”

Justin ran his hands over the wheel, and his expression clouded with anger. “We were incredibly lucky. It wasn’t even a big rut. If we’d been going faster, or if the horse had bolted, you could have been thrown and killed.”

The thought made Tess feel nauseous. “Or you,” she said.

Since the gig was clearly unusable, they left it where it was and led the horse toward the house. Tess’s feet were aching by the time they finally reached the stables, and she was sure Justin felt equally miserable; his breeches were still damp and he must be getting chilled.

He handed the horse over to the stablemaster and explained what had happened, then sent two of the stable boys to retrieve the gig. That done, he escorted Tess inside.

She touched his arm. “You need to get warm. I’ll have a hot bath sent up for you right away.”

He nodded, clearly distracted, and she tried not to feel snubbed by his curt, “Yes. Thank you,” before he strode away.

Chapter Thirty-One

Justin’s anger simmered as he waited for Simms to attend him in his rooms.

His blood was pounding, his nerves on edge, as he replayed the carriage incident in his mind.

Bloody Hell.It had been a miracle that neither one of them had been seriously injured or killed. Tess had seemed genuinely surprised and bewildered by what she saw as a freak accident, but it wasn’t in his nature to be so trusting. The odds of three spokes giving way naturally were extraordinarily long. The odds on them having been tampered with were far shorter.

He stripped off his damp clothes and threw them onto the bed.

If he was correct, and someone had meant for the wheel to fail, then who had been the intended target? Tess? Or himself?

It seemed unlikely to be Tess. He’d seen the respect and affection she garnered. Everyone from the baker’s boy to the prince regent was in love with her.

He, on the other hand, could well have been the intended recipient of a nasty fall. But was it because of hisbusiness dealings, or because of his position as the new duke?

Simms’s knock halted his aimless pacing.

“You called, Your Grace?”

“I did. I was wondering if you’d had any luck in finding out who might have shot at us in the woods yesterday afternoon?”

Simms shook his head. “Sadly not, sir. The truffle hunter, Collins, was undoubtedly in the vicinity, but he was seen showing the truffle you found to the landlord of the Dog and Duck in the village not ten minutes after you say the shots were fired. He did not appear out of breath, as if he’d recently been running through the trees.”

Justin nodded. He hadn’t really imagined the kindly old man to be the culprit. Besides, those dogs of his would have made a noise at hearing a shotgun, had they been close by.

“Remind me, how did the previous heirs to the duchy die?”

If Simms was surprised by the topic, or by Justin’s state of complete undress, he didn’t show it.

“The eighth duke’s brother drowned in a canal in Venice. The next heir fell from his horse after a drunken attempt to jump a fence. Another one died after very unwisely attempting to dress himself without a valet.” Simms shook his head at such patent foolishness. “He put both feet in the same trouser leg, lost his balance, and hit his head on the grate. He never regained consciousness.”

“Go on.”