“No.You told me to discard the tactic, even if I did mean every compliment.”
His open admiration almost convinced her.Almost.“And yet you continue.It appears Don Giovanni is very persistent.”
His smile dropped immediately.“I wish you’d stop accusing me of being Don Giovanni.I’m no sordid libertine.I have great respect for women.The only aspect of that opera I enjoy is Don Ottavio’s devotion to Donna Anna.I hope to one day be a Don Ottavio—standing by my future Donna Anna’s side and avenging any wrong done to her.”He held one hand over his heart as though in some sort of Shakespearean production.
That was quite the noble picture to paint, even if it made Nora roll her eyes.If Lydia were here, she’d probably scribble down his every word for a future romance novel.“You, sir, are a romantic.”
“If I had the right voice, I’d serenade you with Ottavio’s aria.”
“Do not take that as encouragement, Mr.Beaumont.I am not your Donna Anna.”
“Not yet.”
The man had the gall to wink at her!She ought to throw Tristan at him and jump from the hack now.Walking home had to be safer than this temptation to believe his bold flirtations.
The hack dipped into a deep rut, sending Nora crashing into Mr.Beaumont’s side.A terriblecrackfollowed, and the horse let out an ear-splitting scream.The world turned sideways, and the hack slammed onto its side.It scraped across the ground at a slowing speed, but Nora continued to fly forward toward the open front.Oh, Lord, is this how I’m to die?Trampled by a horse then crushed by a hack?Mr.Beaumont yanked her against him and jammed his feet against the kickboard, keeping them firmly inside.Even after the world stilled, he held her close.
It was a few breaths before his head moved behind hers.“Are you all right?”
Aside from her heart kicking like the horse in front of her?“I’m fine.You?”
“I am.”He shifted beneath her with a grunt.“Do you think you can stand?I need to check on the driver.”
“Yes, but close your eyes.”It took some unladylike maneuvering, but she stood, pressing one hand against the hack’s wall above her to gain her balance.She checked her skirts to ensure Mr.Beaumont wouldn’t get an eyeful of anything undesired and caught sight of Tristan’s basket, crushed but empty.“Oh no!Where’s Tristan?”
There was no sign of the gray beast, and the distressed horse covered any possible mewling.
Mr.Beaumont bumped against her legs, then her side, as he rose.His head thunked against the hack, and he cocked it at an uncomfortable angle to stand straight.“I’m sure he jumped out before we fully tipped.”He said it, but the creases fanning from the corner of his eyes and his downturned lips belied his belief.
Please don’t let Tristan be hurt.Mrs.Beaumont doesn’t need another loss in her life.
“Stay here.I don’t want you hurt by the horse.I’ll free it so you can climb out safely after I check on the driver.”He turned to the opening and, after a moment’s study, yanked back the canopy enough to jump well away from the horse’s attempts to break free.
Two men jogged up to the wreckage.“Everyone okay?”
“The lady and myself are fine.Not sure about the driver.”
“You check him.We’ll free the horse.”
As they worked, Nora scanned the area for any sign of Tristan.The horse, the curtain of rain, and the hack blocked most of the surrounding landscape.What little she could see was cat-free.
Mr.Beaumont’s low rumbles came from the other side of the canvas.“Don’t move more than necessary.That arm looks broken.”
The driver muttered curses she pretended not to hear, followed bya hopeful question that Mr.Beaumont might have a flask on him.Thankfully, the answer was no.
“Help is coming.I think the hack’s done for though.It’s not much, but here’s the fare for the trip plus a little extra.”
Considering they hadn’t traveled a quarter of the way yet, that was more than generous of Mr.Beaumont.He would gain nothing but an empty pocketbook by the act, and yet he’d done it without hesitation or being asked.Certainly he hadn’t expected her to hear, so it wasn’t a ploy to win her good favor.What sort of man did that make him?
Once the horse was freed and led a safe distance away, Nora collected her bag and umbrella from the floor and climbed out into the steady rainfall.Her foot slipped in the mud, and Mr.Beaumont caught her elbow.
“Thank you.”She allowed his help only as long as necessary, then stepped away and opened her umbrella.
She should share the sheltered space, but then he’d stand unnervingly close.And it wasn’t his Don Giovanni charm that unnerved her now.No, it was far worse.His actions enticed her to believe he might actually be good.Would a dangerous man save a woman who’d been nothing but rude, generously give without benefit, or visit his mum week after week despite the heartache?She cast him a sideglance.Surely God wouldn’t bless one man with such handsomeness, a swoon-inducing bass voice,anda soft heart?Then again, she’d been duped before.It was safer to think of him as a detestable Don Giovanni than a noble Don Ottavio.Mercifully, he didn’t notice her perusal as he held a hand above his eyes to block the rain while he presumably searched for Tristan.
Nora’s stomach turned as she followed his example.Would they find Tristan in the wreckage?The hack lay nearly flush with the ground.If Tristan had jumped as it tilted, would he have had enough time to dart away?She might not have a fondness for pets, but her heart revolted at the thought of the poor creature having fallen victimto the accident.And poor Mrs.Beaumont!How would she cope with the loss of her beloved pet?
Don’t believe the worst.That’s thinking too much like Mum.Tristan must have gotten away.Look around and think like a cat.
