My Seductive Innocent by Julie Johnstone

her, resting against the cushion, and looked at her with the one eye he still had the strength to open. “Have you ever driven a carriage?”
    She shook her head. “But don’t worry. I’ll figure it out. There is no way I’m letting you die on me.”
    “Of course not,” he mumbled. His mouth felt as if someone had stuffed it with cotton. And his head, too, come to think of it. He stared up at the black night, wondering foggily if the stars had disappeared or if he had gone blind. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a ragged breath. “If I die, you cannot trap me into marriage,” he teased.
    “Oh, go on and pass out already, you conceited man,” she snapped.
    The carriage seemed suddenly to be swaying wildly. “Slow down,” he hissed, grabbing at the seat.
    “I’ve not even started yet,” she retorted and clucked her tongue.
    The curricle jolted forward and seemed to tilt downward, and then Sophia’s yelp joined the buzzing in Nathan’s ears as he blacked out.

S ophia expected all hell to break loose when she returned to the Breeding Tavern with a bleeding, possibly dying duke in tow. After going to the physician’s and finding him gone, she’d had no other choice but to come back here. When she did arrive, Frank immediately started yelling at her and demanding to know where she’d been, just as she’d predicted. But she tugged him outside to get his help bringing Nathan into the tavern, anyway, and was shocked speechless when he stopped shouting as she explained who Nathan was. Frank rushed back into the Breeding Tavern and returned within seconds, barking orders at Moses to find the physician. Sophia’s heart swelled with the strangest sensation of hope. Maybe Frank was not rotten to the core, after all.
    “Frank―” He gave her a sharp look. “Father,” she corrected, clearing the lump out of her throat. “You won’t regret this.”
    “Oh, I know I won’t, my dear .”
    My dear? Frank had never used a term of endearment to refer to her in all the days of her life. He was certainly up to something, but she didn’t have time to figure out what right now. She clambered into the carriage and slipped her arms under Nathan’s legs. As Frank hauled himself into the curricle, as well, and grasped Nathan under the arms, Nathan’s eyes fluttered open and locked on her.
    “Physician,” he mumbled.
    Sophia nodded. “Dr. Porter is coming.” She started to straighten but Nathan grasped her hand. The unnatural clamminess of his skin made her heart stutter, but she tried not to show her fear.
    His brows furrowed, as if he was searching for what he wanted to say. “Funny. Not ready to die.”
    His voice, which had been so deep and confident only hours ago, came out hoarse and weak. Sophia blinked back threatening tears. She didn’t really know the man but sadness for him overwhelmed her. She squeezed his hand, even though his eyes were already closing, and said in a soothing voice, “Of course you aren’t ready to die, for heaven’s sake. You’re the Duke of Scarsdale. You have a grand, wonderful life, I’m quite sure.”
    She could have sworn his mouth thinned before his head flopped sideways and unconsciousness claimed him once again.
    She bit down hard on her lip to stifle a cry and struggled to help Frank get Nathan out of the carriage and into the tavern. At this hour, men packed the main room, and all eyes turned to them. She refused to care what they thought; they did not matter. Saving a man’s life was more important than her reputation.
    Anyway, she was going to London soon, and these men were likely already foxed. She’d be surprised if they recalled seeing her at all, unconscious man in her hands or not. For all they knew, this was one of Frank’s drinking cronies being hauled to the spare room to spend the night.
    “Make way,” Frank shouted, snapping Sophia’s attention to him. “Move out of the way for the Duke of Scarsdale. He’s wounded and my daughter is taking