Aylesbury matched her sigh.“Very well.Peters, run back to the clubhouse and have my driver bring my carriage around to the street through there.”He pointed through the trees to the road that bordered the course.“The Causeway, I believe.I will carry Lady Fiona through and meet you both there.”
Peters nodded and dashed away.Harry turned his attention back to Fiona, who was finally coming around more fully.“I ought to lay my hand to your bare backside.”
“That sounds lovely,” she said groggily.
“This is no time for jokes.”
“Amusing coming from you.”She rubbed her temples and tried to push herself into a sitting position.Her head swam dizzily before a fierce pounding began, and she felt as if her brain were knocking against her skull.“Oh, my head.”
“Just relax against me.”
He lifted her into his arms as he stood.She rested her cheek against his broad chest with a sigh, and he looked down at her, her warm, dark hair shining in the sunlight that filtered through the treetops.Of all the times he imagined lifting her into his arms, never had he thought it would be under such circumstances.
Something had to be done.
“Oh, Harry,” she breathed softly.
“Yes, my love?”he asked, brushing his lips over her hair.
“Please don’t forget my clubs.”
“It would serve you right if I did.”
Chapter 34
I once believed that a perfect marriage, like the one my parents shared, would be one of blissful peace and contentment in the company of another.I never considered that contrariness might be attractive or that chaos might appeal.
That it is the conflicts in our lives that make us feel so very alive.
~From the journal of the Marquis of Aylesbury—May 1895
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“Here, drink this.”
Fiona took the glass Aylesbury offered her and took a sip, welcoming the burn of the whiskey as it went down her throat.Tilting back the glass, she took a larger swallow, purging the last of the sickly-sweet flavor of the chloroform that still seemed to coat her mouth and throat.
