Page 98 of To Pleasure a Prince

She picked up another bottle. “W…C…Taylor? Is that it?”

He grabbed the bottle. “Yes. That’s the maker’s name on the seal.”

“Will it burn when you put it on?” Timmy asked, jerking them both back to their surroundings.

“Only a little,” Regina murmured as she thrust the box of bottles at Marcus.

She swabbed the boy’s sewn wound with Taylor’s Ointment, then wrapped linen around it. “Timmy shall have a rather fearsome scar of his own, but it should heal all right.”

“I don’t know how to thank you, m’lady,” Cook began.

“Nonsense.” She tied off the makeshift bandage. “I’m only glad I could be useful.”

It took a few more minutes to extricate themselves from Timmy and his mother, then they headed down the hall to the drawing room.

“I see you didn’t lie about volunteering at the hospital,” he murmured.

She shot him an arch glance. “Did you think I had?”

“I was hoping you had. Because if I’d known you were such a paragon, I’d never have dared offer for your hand.”

Her blush of pleasure warmed him. “But I can’t garden, remember?”

“I’ll take doctoring skills over gardening any day.” He covered her hand with his and squeezed. “Not so ornamental a wife, after all, eh?”

She laughed. “You haven’t seen me embroider.”

“What I’ve seen of your wifely skills is good enough for me,” he said truthfully.

She toyed with the edge of his cuff as they neared the foyer, where a cluster of servants were buzzing about. “All the same, do you think we might…return to those reading lessons?” She met his questioning gaze and smiled. “After all this excitement, I believe I’m ready for a tamer pastime.”

His bark of laughter made the servants turn in their direction. Then a spindly figure separated from the rest and approached them.

Marcus recognized him as one of Iversley’s footmen just as the man thrust a sealed letter at him. “For you, my lord.”

A frisson of alarm slid down his spine as he broke open the seal. His alarm flared into anger when he read the letter.

“What is it?” Regina asked, her skin pale as chalk.

“We have to go to London.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Your damned ass of a brother just tried to abduct Louisa.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Beware the snares of a devious suitor.

—Miss Cicely Tremaine,The Ideal Chaperone

By the time they set off from Castlemaine in the carriage a good half hour later, Regina could hardly contain her panic. “Marcus, won’t you read me the message now? You know I can’t read it for myself.”

He hadn’t said a word to her since he’d made his chilling pronouncement. Ignoring her pleas that he read her the entire letter, he’d called for the carriage and ordered servants to pack him a bag, in case he was forced to stay in London for the night. When she’d told them to pack her a bag, too, he’d shot her a dark glance. But at least he hadn’t tried to stop her from going.

So now they were alone together, hurtling toward London, with him staring rigidly out the window and her nearly frantic to know the full story.

“Marcus, please—”