Charlotte’s own horse was nowhere to be seen. And, it was clear Mr. Morton was either unaware of this, or simply did not care. She felt her anger rise again, and her manners disappear.
“My horse isgone, Mr. Morton—and I have injured my leg. Just how do you suggest I get back without her?” she shouted. She hoped he might offer to let her have his horse, and yet she also feared the man might insist on riding with her back to Haverstone. The very thought of having to touch such an odious man was utterly unsupportable. She watched as he frowned, then mounted his stallion and looked up and down the path a moment. He turned his steed back toward the direction he had come.
“Wait here,” he said as he rode past her, disappearing around the corner.
Alone, Charlotte gently checked herself for a better idea of her injuries. The worst of it was her hip, but otherwise she was not too badly off. Mostly, she was incensed at Mr. Morton’s lack of accountability for his actions—to say nothing of the absence of any sympathy. He actually appeared annoyed atherfor disrupting his ride.
After a few moments, Mr. Robert Morton returned, pulling her horse alongside his. He led the mare up to Charlotte and handed herthe reins.
“I wish you a safe trip back to Haverstone, Miss Kendall,” he said with a brief nod. “I trust you can find your way?”
“Oh, I should notdreamof imposing upon your good nature another minute, Mr. Morton,” Charlotte said in a voice that was both sweet and dripping in sarcasm. “I shall be perfectly fine, I assure you. Pray, do not give me another thought.”
“Good day to you then,” he replied, not even looking at her. He gave a cluck to his stallion and galloped off.
Charlotte stared after him. He did not even offer to assist her onto her horse. Her right side was now aching to the point that she knew climbing back on would be near excruciating. After her first few attempts to use the stirrup indeed proved too painful, she looked around and saw a tree stump by the side of the road. Leading Nessie to it, she climbed onto the makeshift step to ease her remounting job, though she could not keep from hissing in pain.
She took a moment to collect herself.
“Odious man!” she cried in the direction he had gone.
Then, she turned Nessie around and slowly rode home.
Chapter Nine
By the timeCharlotte returned to the great house, she was aching all over. The butler, barely able to disguise his shock over her disheveled appearance, informed her the family was in the breakfast room, and she reluctantly proceeded there, knowing the sight of her would upset the morning.
She saw Dorothea’s eyes widen as she limped into the room. Before anyone could speak, Charlotte said, “Pray, do not worry, I am well. I just took a tumble off Nessie on my morning ride.”
Her sister was at her side in an instant, leading her to a chair. “How did this happen? Nessie is the mildest of creatures. She would never bolt, would she, Reginald?”
“Never,” he replied, staring at Charlotte with concerned eyes. “Something must have spooked her.”
“Yes, that was it exactly, dear brother,” Charlotte said, attempting a light tone. “A deer—yes, a doe jumped out right in front of us, and when Nessie reared back, I fell off. Fortunately, a bed of moss and ferns was my landing place, else I might have truly been injured. As it is, just my pride and my right side is affected, and I shall soon recover. I do long for a bath, though, Dorothea.”
“At once.” Dorothea went to the bell pull and gave a firm yank. When a footman appeared, she instructed him to tell Becca to order a hot bath for Miss Charlotte, as she assisted her sister out of the room.
“You needn’t leave your breakfast. I shall be fine,” Charlotte tried to assure her. The last thing she wanted was for Dorothea to see what was likely a large and already darkening bruise on her hip.
“Nonsense,” came the brisk answer. “Becca will be busy preparing the bath, so I can help you out of these dirty clothes and get you into your dressing gown. Perhaps we should send for our physician?”
“No need for that,” Charlotte said quickly. “I have no broken bones, I am certain. A few days of quiet here at Haverstone and I shall be right as rain.”
Upstairs, Charlotte steeled herself for Dorothea’s reaction as her dress and undergarments came off. As she had feared, Dorothea gave a shriek of dismay at the angry bruise on Charlotte’s hip and thigh.
“Oh, my dear—are you in terrible pain? That looks dreadful.”
Charlotte moved to the mirror standing in the corner to examine her injury. “It just pains me when I walk, or move, or stand,” she joked. She donned her robe and lowered herself onto a chair, unable to keep from wincing. “Add ‘or sit’ to that list. But, I shall be fine in due course, have no fear.”
“You will spend the day in bed to assist your recovery—possibly tomorrow, as well. Do not even think of contradicting me. I’ll have tea, toast, and marmalade sent up after your bath.”
At that moment, Becca poked her head into the bedroom to announce the water was ready.
“Get the witch hazel, too, Becca,” Dorothea said. “It will help with the bruising.” Offering an arm to her sister, they moved into the dressing room. “Where did this fall occur, Charlotte? How it pains me to think of you having to chase down Nessie, remount, and ride all the way back to Haverstone while so injured.”
“I was near Brentwood estate, I believe.”
Dorothea gasped. “So far? What if you had been more seriously injured? I shudder to imagine your striking your head and being rendered unconscious all alone out there. You might have goneunnoticed far too long at that hour in the morning. You must promise me never to ride alone so early again.”
