Clara laughed. “Something like that.”
* * *
About the same time Alister reined in before Eversleigh House. He was tired, cold and wet, but the desire to see Lyra made him feel like a man in the desert starved for cool water. He’d wanted to be here earlier, when Dr. Harris had given his prognosis, but the storm had slowed his progress from Kent considerably. Either way, he’d already decided that no matter what Dr. Harris might have told Lyra today, he would do whatever it took to prove he would be with her through the good and bad. From this point on he wasn’t going to leave her side, and now that his project had been completed at Thorn Hall in record time, he was determined to take Lyra home where she belonged.
Right by his side.
But when the butler let him in the front door and looked at him rather curiously, he had to wonder if something was awry.
“Your Grace?” the butler said.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
Just then, Roarke stormed into the room. “What are you doing here?”
Alister faced the viscount and his rather thunderous expression. “In case I’m mistaken,” he began slowly, for it appeared that everyone in this house had suddenly become rather dimwitted. “I believe that the Duchess of Albright is in residence. The last time I checked, she was mywife.”
“You didn’t cross paths with her on the road?”
Alister frowned, truly perplexed now. “Why the hell would I?”
“Dammit!” Roarke ran a hand through his hair. All the commotion must have roused his wife and Lavinia, for they rushed into the foyer, quickly coming to a halt at the sight of Alister dripping on the marble. When Roarke spied Mara, he thrust out an accusing finger. “I told you it was a bad idea for her to leave!”
Alister held up a hand, his heart suddenly plummeting to his stomach as he began to piece it all together. “Lyra’s gone?” Everyone turned to him, each of their faces telling, but not one of them willing to confirm it aloud. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he was absolutely still for a full minute before he pinned Roarke with a glare. “Why the bloody hell did you let hergo? You’re the one who sent me a damned message saying that the doctor was coming today!”
“As if I had any say in the matter,” Roarke said in exasperation.
“You could have stopped her!” Alister snapped, his nostrils flaring.
Roarke clenched his fists and strode over until they were standing nose to nose. In a deathly quiet voice, he said, “If you would have been here, we wouldn’t be standing around arguing who is at fault.”
Lady Eversleigh must have been worried that they would come to blows. She rushed in between them and softly interceded. “Nothing could have kept her from going to you. She was quite determined.”
Mara also tried to defuse the situation by coming up and laying a gentle hand on his arm. “Lyra’s fine, Alister. Dr. Harris gave her a good report today and cleared her for travel. She isn’t going to lose the baby.”
It took him a moment for the viscountess’s words to sink in, but when they did, he turned to her. “She’s going to be all right?”
“Theybothare,” she corrected.
“If she doesn’t die from frostbite first,” Alister growled, shooting one more dark look at Roarke. Since he hadn’t yet removed his outerwear, he headed for the front door. “I’m going to look for Lyra, but God help me, if she returns, don’t let her step foot out this door until I return.”
With that, he slammed the door.
* * *
Lyra breathed a sigh of relief when they rolled to a stop at The Crown in the village of Blackheath. She felt as if they’d been on the road for hours because of the creeping pace when it was likely only closer to one.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to check in here for the night or the Hare & Billet, but I felt the name of this one was more suited for a lady.”
“Right now I don’t really care if it’s a fisherman’s pub. As long as there is a roaring fire somewhere, I’m satisfied.” She took Clara’s hands in her own. “Thank you so much. Are you going to come inside and rest a bit?”
“I can’t. My journey is not yet over, I’m afraid.”
Lyra sighed. “Very well.” She quickly gathered up her things and stepped out of the coach. She turned back to bid her a safe journey, but the words caught in her throat when she had the first good look at her traveling companion. It came as quite a shock to find that not only was her hair the richest of auburns, as a few strands curled beyond the confines of her bonnet, but her eyes were an unusual, mismatched green and blue.
She quickly covered her shock by handing over the basket. “This is for you. You shall likely need it more than I will.”
The woman offered a hesitant smile of her own as she cast her eyes downward. “That’s kind of you, Your Grace.” Her long, dark lashes fluttered upward. “Perhaps someday we might meet again, in more pleasant circumstances, of course.”
