Raphe cleared his throat.
“It matters if your spouse will hurt you or treat you roughly, Catherine, and I think Mama’s point was that Lord D’Asti does not seem the sort to do either of those things.”
“Yes, that is exactly what I meant.” The Duchess beamed at her eldest child and patted his cheek. “Thank you, darling.”
Catherine shot Raphe a mutinous glare, annoying toady that he was. She was opening her mouth to argue again when the carriage pulled to a stop to let them out at Elkington House in London. Their footman tugged the door open and Catherine, blessedly, snapped her mouth shut. Raphe breathed a sigh of relief at the reprieve as his family spilled out of the carriage to make their way into Elkington House.
As he and his family alighted in front of Elkington House, the Duke stretched and sighed. His legs ached with the need to take a nice, preferably quiet and unaccompanied, walk in the park. His mother and siblings went towards the door, but the Duchess stopped short when she realised that Raphe wasn’t following.
“Aren’t you coming in, darling?”
“Not just yet, mother.” Raphe rolled his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back. “The carriage journey left me feeling a bit like I might cast up my accounts. I could use some fresh air and a brisk walk to shake off that rather ill feeling carriage travel always gives me.”
His mother nodded, but narrowed her eyes at him.
“I’ll expect you back in time for tea.”
“Of course, Mother. I’ll be here.”
Hyde Park was not far, and the day was warm and sunny, so he set out on foot, needing at least a half hour away from his family to decompress after the tense carriage ride he’d just been forced to mediate.
* * *
Eliza was enjoying a nice,quiet walk in the park with her maid when the peace of the morning was suddenly shattered by thunderous noise, panicked shouting, and the ground shaking under her feet out of nowhere. She looked up just in time to see a wild-eyed, out-of-control horse, dragging a driverless curricle behind it, bearing down on her.
Someone screamed, and Eliza couldn’t be sure whether the sound had left her own lips, or whether the person screaming was her maid. Panic gripped her, and though she tried her best to fling herself out of the way, her limbs seemed made of stone.
“Miss Wingfield!”
Someone shouted her name, but it sounded as if it was coming from very far away indeed.
Strong arms wrapped around Eliza and hauled her out of the horse’s path, and she found herself gazing up into a breathtakingly familiar pair of blue eyes. His Grace, the Duke of Elkington, had swept her off her feet entirely and was cradling her against his chest as if she was something precious and fragile which had very nearly been broken.
“Are you all right, Miss Wingfield?”
For some reason that had little to do with very nearly being trampled to death by a horse, and everything to do with his closeness and the heat of his body, Eliza struggled to find her voice, so she simply nodded. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably, and her teeth chattered, whether as a result of the equine close encounter, or of the Duke’s hold crushing her to him like a fiercely protective papa soothing a frightened child, she couldn’t be sure.
“You’re shaking.”
His voice was softer than velvet, the words spoken in an intimate murmur at her ear, sliding over her skin and sending a sensual shiver down her spine.
“I knew it was going to trample me and I couldn’t move.” Eliza let out an impatient snort and shook her head disgustedly. “What kind of imbecile just stands there and stares, waiting for a horse to trample her to death. Stupid girl.”
“Stop that kind of talk right now, Miss Wingfield.” The Duke tightened his grip on Eliza’s arms and gave her a little shake, as if to snap her out of it. “You shouldn’t be so unkind to yourself. You can’t help the way you react when something like that happens.”
“But I should have known better—”
“I told you to stop that.” The Duke of Elkington growled forcefully, leaning down so they were eye to eye and the tips of their noses were almost touching. “Do not be so hard on yourself. It is not your fault that someone’s horse and curricle almost ran you down. Please, allow me to walk you home.”
At that moment, Eliza’s maid appeared from behind a tree, looking most shame-faced, and came to stand beside them. The Duke regarded the maid with an expression half frustration, and half understanding.
“Should such a thing ever happen again, it would behove you to remember to save your mistress, as well as yourself. You will follow us as I escort Miss Wingfield home.”
“Yes… Your Grace.”
The Duke turned back to Eliza, holding out his arm, and Eliza was so shaken from almost being trampled to death that she did not argue with him. She simply took his extended arm and proceeded to lead the way back to Billington House, where she and her mother were staying with Edward and Georgiana, as they always did when they were in London. By the time they reached the front steps of Billington House, Eliza was still shaking.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue, Your Grace. I shudder to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been in the right place at the right time.”
