“Yes.” Jenny touched her chin. “Silly me.”
“It’s purple,” Barbara observed coming close to examine Jenny’s chin, her sweet breath touching her face. “Does it hurt?”
“Not so much now,” Jenny said with a smile.
“Father said they caught the man who shot Mr. Irvine,” William said. “Mr. Irvine’s gone home now.” He looked disappointed.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to say goodbye to him,” Jenny said. “Such a good man.”
“A nonpareil,” William said with conviction. “Like Father and Lord Strathairn. The marquess has invited me to visit his horse stud to see his Arab stallion.”
“That’s splendid, William.”
Barbara seemed unusually quiet. “And how are you, my pet?” Jenny asked.
The little girl plucked at the bedcover. “Miss Green is sleeping in your room, Jenny. And I’m not allowed to visit Misty and Carrot. Their babies will be all grown up.”
“No, they will still be quite small. Shall we visit them tomorrow?” Jenny asked her.
Barbara smiled and nodded.
“Miss Green is to care for you both in the nursery, but I am still your governess, and we will do all the things we did before.” Jenny suspected that she and Miss Green might have a few disagreements in the future.
“I found the books you dropped on the stair. It must have been when you fell and hurt yourself,” William said.
“Did you find them interesting?”
“Yes! Did you know that in the desert the Arabs never used a bit on their horses? They were considered so smart they didn’t need it. They took their horses into their tents when the sand storms hit, too.” William’s eyes were alight with interest. “Father’s horse, Cicero is an Arab stallion. He has the arched neck and the high carriage of the tail.”
“Your father’s stallion is a beauty!” An image of His Grace riding the magnificent horse made her pulse race. She was a hopeless case. She must stop this, or life would become unbearable.
“Did you know Father is going to London?” William asked.
“I’m sure it won’t be for long,” she said, hoping he would not leave the children for a lengthy time. Jenny hoped the duke hadn’t already left. She must tell him what she knew.
*
Jenny! When Andrewdiscovered her lying so pale and still, fearing her dead, it had rocked him. Then, learning she would live, he’d buried his head in his hands and uttered up a prayer of thanks. He was forced to admit that she’d come to mean more to him than merely a servant in his employ.
The events that followed, left him little time to dwell on the state of his emotions. Once the doctor assured him that Jenny was not seriously injured, Andrew was forced to turn to other matters, while all the time, wishing to go to her, to confirm in his own mind that she was well, and on the mend.
Greta had accused him of murdering her brother and demanded to be taken to London where she would arrange passage to Germany with Ivo’s body. Andrew promised to ensure her safety and comfort until she sailed.
Irvine, anxious to get home, had left immediately, with Andrew’s grateful thanks and a remuneration for his trouble.
Not long after Irvine left, Andrew saw off Strathairn in his phaeton. He was to return to his lady wife, Sibella, at his Yorkshire estate. He explained to Andrew that Sibella was not keen on him taking up the reins of his old life and placing himself in danger. “She lived through my time working for the Crown and now requires assurance that I’ll come home at night.” He grinned. “And I am to please relay a message. She plans to have words with you when next you meet, for sparking my interest and sending me from home.”
Andrew smiled. “Please beg the marchionesses’ pardon, and say I am very grateful that you came, and have every hope that when we meet again, it will be over a glass of champagne.”
“Sibella will forgive you anything, Andrew,” Strathairn said with a grin, as he gathered up the reins. “She’s too fond of you to remain cross for long.”
With a laugh, Andrew waved Strathairn off as he drove his prime pair of bloods down the carriageway.
Andrew visited Raymond’s bedside to reassure himself that his cousin would live. Although he’d lost a lot of blood, the doctor was confident that Raymond would make a good recovery.
Andrew would always be grateful for his cousin’s brave action when he’d so courageously drawn Ivo’s fire, and as soon as he was able, told him so.
“I’m relieved you brought that bloody mongrel down,” Raymond muttered.
