left.”
Emily whirled. Lord Wentworth! Was he following her, determined to continue their truncated conversation?
Again she had the peculiar uneasiness that he could guess her thoughts, for he smiled. “Traffic is in a tangle all along the street, and my curiosity would not be quelled without seeing the cause for myself.” Not giving Emily a chance to answer, he tipped his hat to Valeria. “Good morning, Lady Fanning. And to you, Simpkins.”
“I am so glad to see you,” Valeria moaned, putting her hand on his arm. “Can you help us?”
“Us?” His brows arched.
Mr. Simpkins murmured, “Damn good horse. What a shame.”
“Miss Talcott would certainly offer—” Damon could not keep from smiling as Lady Fanning swooned into his arms. What a to-do! Who would have guessed a simple errand to collect a copy of that book of silly poems would lead to this? Lifting the lady into his arms, he gritted his teeth when her reticule struck his leg and that silly feather tickled his nose.
“Bring her to my carriage, my lord,” Miss Talcott said.
When she put her hand on his arm to guide him, he was not astonished, even though, at the bookshop, she had acted as skittish as a gamester with creditors on his tail. Emily Talcott had proven she would be a rock in a crisis when he had brought her father home.
He nodded and let her lead the way to the simple carriage. Her coachee leaped forward to open the door, then stepped aside.
When he set the senseless woman on the seat, several sheets of paper fluttered about the carriage. Miss Talcott first smoothed Lady Fanning’s dress over her comely ankles, then gathered up the pages which were covered with neat handwriting. Curious as to what she was writing, he bent closer. She folded them closed before he could read a single word. He was treated to a sweet, musky scent he had enjoyed in the bookshop. He did not recognize the cologne, but it was perfect for Emily Talcott.
He handed her into the carriage and asked, “How does she fare?”
“She still is bereft of her senses.”
“Do you think we should set fire to that absurd feather in her bonnet to bring her about?”
Miss Talcott stared at him in amazement, then began to laugh. Damon rested his hand on the open doorway and enjoyed the sight. Laughing was something she should do more often, for her eyes sparkled like twin candles.
“I don’t think,” she said in a prim tone that did not match her smile, “such extraordinary measures will be necessary. She seems to be waking.”
Before Damon could answer, another voice, a most annoying one, in his opinion, asked, “How is Valeria? Alas, I should have picked a more experienced coachman.”
“That is your carriage, Simpkins?” Damon asked, glancing at the ruined vehicle.
“It was.”
He saw Miss Talcott struggling to hide her smile. She should smile, for Graham Simpkins was amusing even at a moment such as this.
Quietly, Damon ordered, “Do be a good man, Simpkins, and get Lady Fanning’s things. I am sure Miss Talcott would be glad to see Lady Fanning home.”
“That is my honor,” Simpkins insisted, squinting at Miss Talcott as if he had just taken note of her.
“And how do you intend to do that? Carry her home in your arms?”
Simpkins puffed up like a cat ready to spit at a dog. His hands clenched at his sides.
Damon folded his arms in front of him. He had no interest in providing more of a public spectacle.
Miss Talcott said, “Hush, the two of you.” Her voice softened. “Valeria, open your eyes slowly.”
“Dear me,” murmured Lady Fanning, “my head aches. Oh, do let us be on our way.”
“An excellent idea,” Damon seconded. “The morning is nearly over. It would not be wise of you ladies to remain here past midday when the Loungers are about.”
Emily nodded. For once, she could agree with Lord Wentworth. She wanted to be gone before Old Bond Street became filled with the bored young men who looked for entertainment with any
Emily whirled. Lord Wentworth! Was he following her, determined to continue their truncated conversation?
Again she had the peculiar uneasiness that he could guess her thoughts, for he smiled. “Traffic is in a tangle all along the street, and my curiosity would not be quelled without seeing the cause for myself.” Not giving Emily a chance to answer, he tipped his hat to Valeria. “Good morning, Lady Fanning. And to you, Simpkins.”
“I am so glad to see you,” Valeria moaned, putting her hand on his arm. “Can you help us?”
“Us?” His brows arched.
Mr. Simpkins murmured, “Damn good horse. What a shame.”
“Miss Talcott would certainly offer—” Damon could not keep from smiling as Lady Fanning swooned into his arms. What a to-do! Who would have guessed a simple errand to collect a copy of that book of silly poems would lead to this? Lifting the lady into his arms, he gritted his teeth when her reticule struck his leg and that silly feather tickled his nose.
“Bring her to my carriage, my lord,” Miss Talcott said.
When she put her hand on his arm to guide him, he was not astonished, even though, at the bookshop, she had acted as skittish as a gamester with creditors on his tail. Emily Talcott had proven she would be a rock in a crisis when he had brought her father home.
He nodded and let her lead the way to the simple carriage. Her coachee leaped forward to open the door, then stepped aside.
When he set the senseless woman on the seat, several sheets of paper fluttered about the carriage. Miss Talcott first smoothed Lady Fanning’s dress over her comely ankles, then gathered up the pages which were covered with neat handwriting. Curious as to what she was writing, he bent closer. She folded them closed before he could read a single word. He was treated to a sweet, musky scent he had enjoyed in the bookshop. He did not recognize the cologne, but it was perfect for Emily Talcott.
He handed her into the carriage and asked, “How does she fare?”
“She still is bereft of her senses.”
“Do you think we should set fire to that absurd feather in her bonnet to bring her about?”
Miss Talcott stared at him in amazement, then began to laugh. Damon rested his hand on the open doorway and enjoyed the sight. Laughing was something she should do more often, for her eyes sparkled like twin candles.
“I don’t think,” she said in a prim tone that did not match her smile, “such extraordinary measures will be necessary. She seems to be waking.”
Before Damon could answer, another voice, a most annoying one, in his opinion, asked, “How is Valeria? Alas, I should have picked a more experienced coachman.”
“That is your carriage, Simpkins?” Damon asked, glancing at the ruined vehicle.
“It was.”
He saw Miss Talcott struggling to hide her smile. She should smile, for Graham Simpkins was amusing even at a moment such as this.
Quietly, Damon ordered, “Do be a good man, Simpkins, and get Lady Fanning’s things. I am sure Miss Talcott would be glad to see Lady Fanning home.”
“That is my honor,” Simpkins insisted, squinting at Miss Talcott as if he had just taken note of her.
“And how do you intend to do that? Carry her home in your arms?”
Simpkins puffed up like a cat ready to spit at a dog. His hands clenched at his sides.
Damon folded his arms in front of him. He had no interest in providing more of a public spectacle.
Miss Talcott said, “Hush, the two of you.” Her voice softened. “Valeria, open your eyes slowly.”
“Dear me,” murmured Lady Fanning, “my head aches. Oh, do let us be on our way.”
“An excellent idea,” Damon seconded. “The morning is nearly over. It would not be wise of you ladies to remain here past midday when the Loungers are about.”
Emily nodded. For once, she could agree with Lord Wentworth. She wanted to be gone before Old Bond Street became filled with the bored young men who looked for entertainment with any
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