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“All right,” Fiennes said. “All right.”

They sat watching the river until Fiennes realized that Jonah had soundlessly fallen asleep. A barge piled high with coal made its ponderous way down the river, weighted so low that no more than a strip of gaily painted deck showed above the water. Two elegantly dressed young gentlemen followed in a canoe, rowing languidly while puffing on pipes.

Fiennes could imagine Ella with a baby. In fact, she already had two babies, Starlight and Josephina, with more on the way. Just how did his girl imagine that she would transport a box of squirrel babies to the country?

The cat, a nauseated viscountess, baby squirrels, trunks, books—not to mention Fiennes, hanging onto the outside of the carriage, perhaps.

He didn’t want to spend even a single night away from Ella, any more than Jonah did Bea and little Sophia. Anything could happen to Ella in the country.

Jonah was napping so soundly that he didn’t wake even when his wife ran down from the picnic on the lawn, bearing news that Regina’s carriage had been stolen, and they had to rescue her.

“We can leave Jonah to sleep. I’ll take you myself,” Fiennes said, getting up.

“I suppose we can return for him,” Bea said. “Regina is at the Mad Bishop inn. Do you know where that is?”

“Only a few streets away,” Fiennes said. “We’ll be back before Jonah wakes.”

Bea gave Fiennes a rueful smile. “We needn’t both be up at night with Sophia, but Jonah never leaves me alone while she’s crying.”

He took her arm, and they began to walk back up the slope. Bea chattered of the baby while Fiennes let her charm and beauty warm him.

“I believe I’ll marry Ella St. Trevelyon,” he said abruptly.

“I thought—” Bea cut herself off, and a huge smile crossed her face. “Excellent decision!” she cried.

They had reached the Duke of Lennox’s curricle when a bellow stopped them.

“My lord and master has woken,” Bea said, laughing. “Did you think that I was running away with Fiennes?” she asked her husband when he arrived.

“What? No!” Still, Jonah took his wife in his arms and kissed her. “Where are we going?”

“To rescue your sister,” Fiennes said.

“What’s happened to Regina?” Jonah asked with a distinct air of disinterest.

“Lady Regina is stranded not far from here because someone has stolen your coach.”

“Not with the blacks as well?” Jonah said, his brow furrowing. “Damn it, why is Regina trundling around London at this hour?”

“The last thing I heard,” his wife said, accepting the duke’s hand to clamber into the curricle, “she went for a drive with Fulvia St. Trevelyon. They have been spending considerable time together, you know. Regina’s note doesn’t mention Fulvia, but she must be at the inn as well.”

It was true that Regina had been constantly with Fulvia, ever since the night at the theater.

Fiennes would have sworn that Regina despised him with every ounce of her vain being. He had taunted her into rejecting his hand, and most of London guessed the truth.

So why had she been spending so much time with his betrothed?

“I’ll accompany you,” he said. “You can’t fit more than three into this curricle, so I will accompany Fulvia back to her house in a hackney.”

Which would allow him to break off their engagement.

A mere ten minutes later, they alighted in front of the Mad Bishop. “Isn’t that the St. Trevelyon coach?” Jonah asked. The rattletrap carriage was overturned at the side of the road.

Boys were prancing around it, kicking the splintering wood.

“I hope no one was injured,” Bea commented, hopping down from the curricle without waiting for assistance.

Ella wouldn’t have been in the coach. She was safely at home.