He might have said something then, words that weren’t meant for public consumption were on his tongue, but Flora reached them. Roarke was running from further up the street where he’d been seeking Theo’s carriage. Hands of strangers and acquaintances were pulling him to his feet, and away from her as some of the women carefully examined her torn, dirty gown and her scraped hands.
“A good show, Your Grace,” one man was saying as he patted his back. “The lady would have been killed for certain.”
“They ought to monitor these events better,” another was groaning. “There is a way to release the vehicles and animals, isn’t there? They ought to do it by rank.”
Theo pushed away from them. He was still too shaken to be angry that one of them was upset about rank not the fact that Etta had nearly died. He couldn’t even see their faces as he stared at them. They were blanks as wave after wave of emotion poured over him: terror, pain, relief, love. It was overpowering.
“Fetch Lightmorrow’s vehicle, for pity’s sake,” someone called out at last. “So the duchess and their party might go home.”
The crowd parted, and Theo watched in numbness as his rig pulled up through the fray. His servants must have seen the near miss, as well, for they looked shaken as they climbed down. His footman helped Etta into the rig first, then Flora followed and Roarke went last, with only a brief glance toward Theo.
He shook his head and tried to get himself back together. If he got into the carriage like this, it would be too obvious. He wasn’t ready for the feelings ripping through him like wildfire to be obvious.
“Go to Mr. and Mrs. Desmond’s home,” he directed his driver. “And then we’ll be on to my home unless I tell you otherwise.”
“Yes, sir,” the servant said. “Are you sure you’re not injured, Your Grace? That was a hard fall.”
Theo almost laughed. “Harder than you know. But I’m not hurt. At least I don’t think so.”
And as he got into the carriage, he knew he wasn’t talking about physicality. Which was terrifying.
* * *
The carriage was deathly quiet as it rocked its way back to Flora and Roarke’s home. The ride seemed to be taking forever, or perhaps Bernadette just felt that because she was so keenly aware that everyone’s focus was entirely on her.
Flora sat on the same side of the rig as she was, holding her hands gently. Every once in a while she smoothed her thumb near Bernadette’s scraped knuckles and winced as if it hurt her just to see the injury. Her friend’s face was tear-stained and she took a gulping breath of air like she was trying not to cry all over again.
Roarke sat across from his wife, his face lined with concern for both her and Bernadette. Every so often he shook his head and shuddered, like he was reliving whatever he’d seen from his vantage point.
But it was Theo who kept drawing Bernadette’s attention. He sat across from her, his gaze never leaving her face. He’d said nothing since he entered the carriage, hardly anything more since he’d saved her life. His expression held no clues to his thoughts or feelings. To see him without even an ounce of levity or emotion made her stomach turn.
Just as thoughts of what had nearly happened did. How could something be so fast and so slow all at once? And why did her heart race all over again when she pictured that galloping horse getting larger and larger as it rose up to run her down? It was over. She shouldn’t be afraid anymore. It would only make it harder for everyone else.
The carriage slowed as it turned onto Roarke and Flora’s drive. That seemed to wake everyone up. Flora reached up to cup her cheek. “Dearest, why don’t you come in? Have a drink. We can clean up those scrapes and I’ll help you check your bruises. You could even spend the night here. I hardly want you to leave my sight after such a fright.”
Tears stung Bernadette’s eyes at the sweetness of that offer. She’d long considered both Flora and Valaria to be like sisters, but this took that feeling even further. “I adore you for caring,” she began, squeezing Flora’s hand gently. “But after tonight, I think I just want to go home. I want to rest.”
She glanced at Theo as she said those words and knew she wasn’t going home, at least not any time soon. Even when his expression didn’t reflect his feelings, his eyes told her that.
“Theo will take me,” she said, and felt a little heat touch her cheeks. Flora knew about the affair, of course, but she had to assume that Roarke would guess the same after everything that had happened tonight.
Perhaps it didn’t even matter.
“Are you certain?” Flora asked softly with a quick glance of her own at Theo. He turned his face and looked out the window as they resolved the issue.
Bernadette nodded and tried to put on a brave expression. “I am. We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.”
“Very well,” Flora said with a sigh, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’m so glad you weren’t hurt,” she whispered close to her ear.
Bernadette nodded, those tears returning even as she tried harder to keep them at bay. “Good night, Flora.”
Flora slipped away, letting one of Theo’s footmen help her down. Roarke hesitated a moment before he followed. “We are truly lucky, Bernadette. And grateful. Good night.” He pressed a hand to Theo’s knee before he, too, departed the cottage and shut the door behind himself.
They were alone again, though Theo didn’t move or say anything even as the carriage began to move. She drew a ragged breath. “Theo—”
He swallowed. “Come home with me.”
She blinked. “Is that where we’re going?”
