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He retraced his passage to the entrance. The unmistakable sound of the front door opening declared he intended to accost the poor physician the instant he drew up before Keyworth House.

“Will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?” Landry thundered. “What has happened to my sister? Steele? Celestia? Anyone?”

Lenora imagined Landry’s gaze impaling Jason, then swinging to his wife before careening around the foyer.

Guilt stabbed her at her brother’s genuine worry.

Mama’s and Celestia’s as well.

She’d only carry on with this charade a minute or two more. As soon as she was in her room and the danger of her overwrought brother doing something foolhardy had passed, she’d awaken from her fit of the vapors and assure everyone she was perfectly fine.

A miraculous recovery indeed.

“I’ll let your lady fill you in on the details,” Jason murmured a trifle too jocularly as he mounted the stairs and passed Landry.

Something very near a growl reverberated in Landry’s throat.

Lenora fought to remain immobile and keep her features relaxed. It was wholly unnatural, and a deplorable urge to giggle began in her belly and continued up to her throat.

It was rather like when one had an itch in an unmentionable place that grew worse the more one contemplated it. Or perhaps, she mused, it was more like a tickle in one’s throat during a sermon or a musical that could only be alleviated by a robust round of coughing.

“Her room’s just here,” Mama said rather breathlessly as if she’d sprinted up the stairs. The creak of a door opening met Lenora’s ears. “Please lay her on the bed.”

What else would he do?

Drop Lenora unceremoniously onto the floor?

A handful of seconds later, Jason gently lowered her to her comfortable mattress. Hopefully, her lovely emerald sea foam green and ivory counterpane wouldn’t become bloodstained.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her ear. “It wasn’t necessary to protect me.”

That little rush of desire, as soft as butterflies’ wings, whisked over her again.

Get a hold of yourself, Lenora Esther Elizabeth Audsley.

“What’s that you are saying to her?” Mama asked before the bed sank on Lenora’s other side.

Lenora well knew the starchy look Mama no doubt pinned him with.

“I told her I’d say a prayer for a full and swift recovery,” Jason lied as smoothly as any practiced charlatan.

It was precisely the right thing to say to earn Mama’s approval, however. As he probably suspected. The colossal, disarming liar.

“Oh. Yes. Please do.” Her mother cleared her throat and pressed a cool palm to Lenora’s forehead. “Prayers would be much appreciated. I have always believed in the power of prayer.”

“I’m positive your daughter shall be right as rain in no time, Mrs. Smith,” Jason reassured her. His voice was smooth and comforting. The tone one used to calm a skittish puppy or horse. “She’s young and healthy.”

Gratitude warmed Lenora that he should make an effort to console her mother.

“But there was so much blood,” Mama murmured in a muffled voice. Had she put her handkerchief to her mouth to stifle a sob?

“Head wounds always bleed profusely.” He shifted, jostling the mattress. “See this? I acquired it a fortnight ago during a scuffle with a pirate. It bled something awful, but I didn’t even suffer a headache afterward.”

Pirate? Lord above.

She’d considered that the wives of sea captains must be lonely and independent too, as their husbands could be gone for years at a time. But Lenora hadn’t honestly contemplated the dangers apart from foul weather.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from looking at whatever mark he indicated to her mother. At last, she could stand it no longer. She opened her eyes just as the bewhiskered doctor whisked through the doorway, worn leather satchel in hand.

Landry was directly on his heels with thunder in his eyes.

Drat and double drat.

Her ploy hadn’t worked after all.

“I hear you’ve had a bit of excitement today, Miss Audsley.” Doctor Calder eyed her head with its neckcloth bandage. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

“Yes, and while Doctor Calder examines my sister, you and I shall have a discussion in my study, Steele.” Landry’s tone was as hard and unyielding as forged steel.