Chapter 3
Did he not recognize her? Why did he not smile? Greet her?
Oh,wherewas her reticule?
Fie!She needed her glasses!
She heard his footmen scrambling here and there, climbing around the wreckage of their traveling coach. Oh, it was such a bother to be unable to see properly without her glasses! Worse,withthem and have men look at her as if she were an ugly-eyed monster.
Mary fidgeted, arranging herself. She, too, had been heroically rescued and, from what Fifi detected, her friend was reveling in the attention of her own Sir Galahad as much as Fifi had. From the way Mary and the man greeted each other, they had once known each other well.
The two gentlemen joked with each other, making light of the harrowing situation. But one of them had introduced both to the ladies. Fifi had heard them but, in such pain, she couldn't recall any names. Still...thiswasNorthington. Looked like him. Acted like him, too. There were few men with such bearing. A colossus in charge of everyone. That was Northington.
Thiswas Northington. True?
"My reticule?" she asked the young lad who acted as tiger. He blinked twice, stared at her a second, then snapped his fingers and ran off to do her bidding.
She grimaced as the coach bounced. Welles, Mary's maid shifted about, trying to find a comfortable spot. The man who'd greeted Mary in such familiar fashion grinned at her friend.
"I know what I'm doing," Northington told Fifi as he took the opposite seat and proceeded to push up Fifi's skirts.
"Stop!" She grabbed his wrist. ”You can't do that! It's shocking!"
"I'll tell you what's really shocking." He pointed at her foot. "You want to walk on this, Lady Fiona? Ever again?"
What an ogre!”Of course!"
"Then I will see your ankle."
When they’d met, he’d been a perfect gentleman. Not this unfeeling boor! Ripe with anger, she inched up her skirts—and glared at him.
He shook his head, unimpressed. "More."
Ohhhh. She set her teeth. Why was he so arrogant? Northington had appeared stiff, cool, unapproachable to others the night they'd met, but to her, he'd been sweet and kind. Where was that man now?
"Come now." He untied his cravat and slipped it from around his neck. "Your boot and stocking, too."
She had once liked him, but now? Not so much! ”No.”
"Fifi," Mary pleaded with her.
The man was not deterred. "Three choices, my lady. One, you remove your boot and stocking now. Two, I cut them off you myself. Three, we wait, in which case, you will never get them off because your ankle will be too swollen. What then is your decision?"
"Are you such an ogre to everyone?" Fifi snapped.
"Only to ladies who refuse proper treatment. Now. Shall I unlace your boot or do you wish to be crippled for the rest of your life?"
"Oh, you are the devil!" Fifi bent over and unlaced her boot. Then she thrust her foot at him.
He grinned—maliciously, too, from what she could tell—but then he carefully secured her foot to his lap. "Good. Will you roll down your stocking please?"
"Turn away."
With a bark, he faced the window.
The tiger re-appeared and lobbed her reticule onto the floorboards. Too far away to reach it, she sat back and resigned herself to her fate at this man's hands.
But when he turned back, he smiled at her and this time, he gave her more sympathy than anger. The change went a long way to making her more amenable to him. So did the next thing he did. From toes to arch and ankle, he stroked the whole of her injured foot, his touch an angel's caress. His tenderness had her sighing into the squabs. She closed her eyes, ragged from her pain.
