They rounded a corner, the carriage wheels sliding in the snow, and Juliana’s spine stiffened, her hands clutched together tightly in her lap. They hit a rut, the carriage jostling. Her eyes squeezed shut and her breath came in rapid, uneven huffs.
Leo cursed, and crossed the carriage to situate himself next to her on the seat, spreading his furs over the both of them. Distraction, Percy had said, was what she required.
Reaching into his inner waistcoat pocket, he withdrew his spectacles and put them on with one hand.
She gave him a tight, tremulous smile. “You brought a book with you?”
“I did. Haven’t had many an opportunity to read it until now. In fact, it was in my saddlebags until we agreed to take this carriage. How do you feel”—he pulled a book from his coat pocket and glanced at the inside title page, tilting it to catch the light of the driver’s carriage lamp—“aboutTravels into Several Remote Nations of the World. In Four Parts. By Lemuel Gulliver, First a Surgeon, and then a Captain of Several Shipsby Jonathan Swift?”
Her smile grew incrementally. “Gulliver’s Travels! Papa detested those tales, but I made my governess read them to me in secret.”
“Settle in, then,” he urged. “I shall read to you.”
Juliana peered up at him in bemusement, and he offered her a tentative smile. It was a gesture of peace that would, with luck, simultaneously ease Juliana’s fears and quell the torrent of despondency within him.
Clearing his throat, he read. “My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire…”
* * *
The lengthsto which Maria would go to speak with the dratted Duke of Derby would astound most anyone.
When she’d learned that he had gone for an early morning ride at Rotten Row, she’d re-mounted her mare and had ridden after him. Her familial staff was accustomed to her clandestine flights from home, but at the moment, she wished that she’d considered wearing a darker riding habit. She was far too visible in the predawn light.
The wind was brisk, but what she needed to say was important, and worth the cold-rouged cheeks.
She galloped through Hyde Park, only slowing as she neared Rotten Row. As promised, a rider approached in the distance.
Maria’s knees tingled, and she frowned at them. Her body’s reaction to the duke’s nearness was entirely irksome.
She opened her mouth to call out to Jasper, but his bellow cut her off.
Heart in her throat, she watched in horror as the horse’s saddle came undone and he was thrown with it from the horse, landing with a hardwhomph.
Maria dismounted and ran the short distance to him.
“Your Grace!”
He groaned, sitting up.
“Do be careful,” she said, kneeling at his side. “Have you broken anything?”
Without prompting, Maria put her hands to his arms and neck, feeling for anything out of place.
“No,” he said, his voice rumbling. “The bruising will be a sight, I’m certain, but no broken bones.” He put a hand to his forehead. “What the devil happened to my saddle?”
“I shall examine it.” The overwhelming relief that he had not killed himself made her voice high and breathy as she left to inspect the saddle several feet away.
The leather was pleasantly warm beneath her gloved fingers, but she didn’t take the time to ruminate on the fact that the duke’s very fine bottom had moments before been resting on its surface. Instead, she turned her attention to the straps and buckles.
Her stuttered breath clouded before her face.Oh, hell.
“Your Grace.” She looked at him over her shoulder as he stood. “These straps have been severed.”
Crack!
The Duke hollered in pain once more, clapping a hand over his left bicep. “Christ, I think I’ve been shot!”
His wild gaze flew up to meet hers. “Run, Maria! Get back to your horse!”
