In a minute, he found it, and tripped. Snatching the lantern off the ground, he hoped he could relight it with the matches in his pocket, if they weren’t damp. Luckily, they weren’t.
Striking the head of the Lucifer match, he soon had the lamp emitting a cheery glow, like a giant firefly, the only light in the dark and cloudy landscape. He set it down by his horse.
Cupping his hands, he managed to get Eleanor high enough so she could toss her injured leg over the back of Percy and ride him astride, the full skirts of her habit pulled high up on her legs, with her cloak hanging down covering his horse’s rear.
“You look the very image of a Gothic romantic heroine,” he told her, grabbing the reins and the lamp before beginning the trek back to the lean-to.
“Thank you,” she said. Then, “How did you find me? And why did you come back so late from Town?”
“As soon as Cam said he’d given you that damned book, I knew what you would do.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding chagrined. “I’m sorry.”
After a long pause, she added, “When I read how Mr. Legrand and his friend found treasure, I knew you would have buried something for me to find. And it was my birthday, so I wanted to see what it was.”
“Despite the fact that it was nighttime and stormy out?”
“When I left Turvey, it was neither,” she pointed out.
“Cam is furious, and you’ve worried Margaret, which makes him more furious.”
Another long pause, and then Eleanor said, “Perhaps we needn’t say anything about the river. Bad enough I jumped out of the tree and sprained my ankle like a ninny.”
“Bad enough,” he agreed.
“You didn’t answer why you returned.”
“As you said, it’s your birthday. I didn’t intend to miss it. How could I know you would retire extraordinarily early and then go out like a madwoman into the elements?”
She said nothing.
“I’ll tell you how I should have known,” he said. “Because you are Eleanor Blackwood.”
She laughed, and when she did, he knew everything was going to be all right.
Soon, he would have Bess under him, and they would be home well before midnight.
*
Eleanor wished shecould have simply tiptoed into Turvey House secretly the way she’d left. Yet, as soon as her brother-in-law either heard or spotted their horses, she heard his whoop of joy. Then a door slammed as he must have gone inside to tell Maggie.
Next came the mortifying, overly dramatic moment when Grayson insisted on carrying her inside after letting Jamie take the horses. The stable boy had glared at her ferociously. She had a feeling he’d gotten into trouble on her account, and she would make amends as best she could the next day.
Meanwhile, she had a fuming Earl of Cambrey to face and a pale-faced sister, who, if anything, looked even more beautiful for being worried.
“Eleanor!” Maggie cried as Grayson carried her, dripping wet and filthy, into the elegant drawing room. “What did you do? Just look at the state you’re in. John, please ask Tilda for brandy for my sister. For all of us, actually. And warm milk. I don’t know why, but I’m sure Eleanor needs warm milk.”
“Yes, my sweet,” he said, and disappeared from the drawing room momentarily.
Eleanor was glad, for his expression had been what she would describe as “provoked,” and she was certain she was in for a tongue-lashing at his earliest convenience.
As soon as he came back, apparently, it was convenient, for he started in on her.
“I should never have given you a saddle,” John said, standing over where she lay stretched out on the sofa.
“That wouldn’t have stopped me,” she confessed. “I would have taken one from the stables.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Have you no remorse for nearly killing us with worry? Imagine how we felt when Gray came home and sent Maggie up to fetch you, only to find you had disappeared.”
