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As Thea situated her skirts, grimacing at the red-stained satin pinched between her fingers, she wasn’t certain which portion

of the evening was the worst.

Was it when her favorite gown was ruined? When Baron Chedworth had abandoned them at Beaucastle’s without ensuring they found

another way home? Or when the first two circumstances had left Nell beaming with malevolent delight as she bid her fellow

Addlewickians farewell?

A plague upon all your houses , Thea thought crossly as Viscount Abernathy’s coach drove them away from the cursed party.

“I simply don’t know what Chedworth could have been thinking,” Lady Broadbent said on an even breath. “Needless to say, Miss

Hartley and I are in your debt, Lord Abernathy.”

Seated on the bench across from them, the viscount’s vulpine face gave way to a half smile that elongated a pointy chin. “Not

at all. It isn’t often that I have the privilege of escorting two such charming and alluring ladies.”

As if this night’s abominable feast of catastrophe required a sauce, Abernathy’s gaze shifted to Thea, then held for an uncomfortable

beat too long.

“You are too kind,” the countess interjected sharply. “I’m sure your mother would be proud to know she raised a man who came

to our aid without desiring any sort of favor in return.”

A pregnant pause followed, her meaning patently clear.

His smile turned sour as he glanced down to brush an invisible speck of lint from his coat sleeve. “Indeed. I had forgotten

you shared an acquaintance with my mother.”

The creaking of the carriage walls and the whistle of the wind slipping in through the window casings filled the silence that

followed.

At his discomfiture, Thea grinned to herself. She was tempted to squeeze Lady Broadbent’s hand in gratitude, but the countess

was nothing if not proper. Needless displays of affection were frowned upon. Nevertheless, Thea received a nod and a tap on

her forearm. For the countess, that was the equivalent of a warm embrace.

Thea shifted deeper onto the bench, a forlorn sigh escaping when her skirts and petticoat stuck to her thighs.

“I’m afraid the red will never come out of the satin,” the countess said.

But Thea was lamenting the loss of the velvet pockets most of all. The special lining had been the clever idea from the extraordinary

modiste Madame LeBlanc after Thea had told her about having lost a ledger last Season.

That ledger had contained the last of her own work that she’d truly been proud of. But it was gone forever.

“St. James ought to be horsewhipped. Ignorant clod,” Abernathy said, leaping onto the change in topic like a flea to a dog’s

back.

Thea frowned. “It was an accident. Anyone could have tripped and done the same. If that punch hadn’t been so unpalatable,

then perhaps—”

“You’ll find that accidents follow that buffoon wherever he goes. He’s a menace and a blathering idiot. It’s a shame that the Earl of Redcliffe has no

better option as heir.”

“Just because St. James speaks with a lisp does not make him dim-witted.”

Abernathy’s eyebrow arched. “Forgive me, I had no notion that he earned such a high place in your esteem.”

“He hasn’t.” When her declaration earned a smug chuckle as if he’d already known the answer, she hastened to add, “But if

he were to pay a call and express an interest in courting me, I would give him due consideration, just as I would any true

gentleman.”

She didn’t know why she was rushing to St. James’s defense. After all, the red splatters covering her gown gave her good cause

to be cross with him. But she hated when proud, pompous men chose to belittle those they deemed beneath them. And she didn’t

understand the contempt.

It was true that St. James was built on the larger scale, which could account for any clumsiness. Additionally, the clothes

he wore made him appear rather unkempt. But if one looked beyond all that, they could see that he had a number of appealing

qualities.

She just couldn’t remember them at the moment.

It was rather sad to admit—especially under these circumstances when righteous indignation would aid her in putting Abernathy

in his place—but, other than brief conversations and St. James’s unfortunate stumble in front of her, he hadn’t left much

of an impression.

As far as potential suitors went, she didn’t even know what would impress her. She supposed that, just like with her inspiration,

she was searching for an elusive spark.

Best of luck with that , her chorus snickered.

“Ah. Now I understand.” Abernathy’s thin lips curved in a grin, even though she was fairly certain she hadn’t said anything

amusing. “You are quite clever, Miss Hartley, and I happily accept your invitation.”

“My... invitation?”

“To pay a call on you.”

Believing she misheard him, she glanced to Lady Broadbent for clarity only to see perplexity in her creased brow. Then, suddenly, a candle flared to life in Thea’s brain.

She’d said she would give any true gentleman due consideration. Did he actually mistake her insult to his character as encouragement?

The answer was clear in that smug expression.

Oh, how she looked forward to setting him straight. “Abernathy, I wouldn’t—”

Her setdown ended on a gasp as the carriage suddenly lurched, picking up speed. She nearly tumbled forward into the viscount’s

lap, but braced herself in time.

Lady Broadbent held on, as well. “Good gracious!”

Abernathy scowled and pounded on the roof hatch. “See here! What’s the meaning of this?”

In response, several things happened at once. The crack of a gunshot split the air. The piercing howl of a wolf echoed through

the trees that lined the forest lane. The driver cursed.

Then the word highwayman dropped inside the carriage like a stone.