We crossed his grassy-green fields splashing puddles and headed into his stables, an old building made of thick timbers.
Daniel jumped down, and then jerked me from his saddle.
With his hand firmly locked onto mine, he turned to his groom, a young man of eighteen or nineteen. “Mr. Anthon, once you get these horses brushed down, there’s an emerald cloak out in the field. Can you get it, beat it clean, and send it up to the main house?”
“Yes, sir, Lord Ashbrook.”
The young man stared and smiled as he took the horses from Daniel.
Not letting go, the earl marched me up to Finchely.
Max followed, and then jumped up onto my hip, trying to tug us apart.
“Down, boy. My prisoner’s not going anywhere. Inside with you, Jemina. We’ll get you freshened up, then I’ll ship you back to the duchess, or should I say the duke? I think Repington will be better at coming up with a punishment. I’m sure he’s court-martialed more than one or two within his command.”
That didn’t sound good, and that wouldn’t help Patience. “Please, Daniel. Let me be no trouble to them.”
“Just trouble to me? Inside.”
In the threshold of Finchely House, I dripped from head to toe. So did Daniel. He flung out his spectacles.
He turned to a footman and jerked off his coat. “Can you retrieve some towels, maybe a blanket?”
The fellow in a light blue livery disappeared and then returned with a pile of linens. Daniel took them and towed me into his study. “Sit. Sit here by the fire.”
Rain continued to come down. Thunder crackled and shook the roof.
He worked the logs in his hearth and started a blaze.
The heat felt good.
He dropped towels on my head.
“If I’d kept my cape, I wouldn’t be so wet.”
Max lay beside me at my boots. I dropped a towel on him and started drying the crooning hound. “Bad dog.”
“Max, this is Jemina. Jemina, this is my pug, Maximillian. We call him Killer. Good dog, catching the bandit.”
The earl wiped at his spectacles and then took a towel and wrapped my dripping hair.
“I must look odd to you.”
“No comment, Jemina. Let’s get you dry.”
Maybe I had a face like Phoebe’s and could wear a turban.
“Jemina St. Maur. Wild woman. Do I need to list the ways you could’ve been hurt. Max, who’s letting you rub his belly and purring like my aunt’s cat, can be vicious.”
Another tickle of pug’s thick neck, and he rolled over whining. “Yes, I feel threatened.”
“He must be off duty.” Daniel barely contained his laugh. After stoking the flames again, he took the sheets and wrapped me and the chair.
The door opened. “Sir . . .”
“Yes, Mrs. Gallick.”
“I, aaah, I’d changed my mind on heading out, my lord. The weather is so bad.”
