Sally James by Fortune at Stake Page B

in the direction of the noise. Now she could hear the wheels of some heavy vehicle and as she came round the corner of the spinney she saw a lane, deeply sunken and edged with bushes. A man, a farmer by the looks of him, was driving an empty cart along the lane and she called to him urgently.
    ‘I beg of you, pray help me!’
    He stopped and looked slowly round at her.
    ‘What be the matter?’ he queried.
    ‘There is a man, hurt. He hit his head, I think. Please, where is the nearest inn? Can you help me take him there?’
    He halted the cart and ponderously clambered down, leaving his horses contentedly pulling grass from the side of the road. Susannah smiled at him briefly before turning to lead the way back to where Lord Chalford lay. As she came up to him she could see him move slightly and breathed a sigh of relief. She stood looking down at him while the farmer caught up with her and it occurred to her that he was the best-looking man she had ever seen. Hastily dismissing such a thought and firmly reminding herself of his outrageous behaviour, she knelt beside him as he opened his eyes.
    ‘Oh, are you better?’ she asked quickly. He tried to raise himself on his elbow, but winced at the pain in his arm and then put his other hand to his head.
    ‘What happened?’ he asked, evincing no sign of recognition for her.
    ‘I - you were thrown,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Does your head hurt very badly?’
    ‘Like the devil! Who are you?’
    ‘Never mind that! If we assist you, can you sit up?’
    With the other man’s help she raised him to a sitting position and after a quick but competent examination the farmer said cheerfully there were no bones broken. In a short while Lord Chalford’s reeling senses steadied sufficiently for him to be helped over to the cart, where he lay, his head cradled in Susannah’s lap, while the farmer drove them to the nearest inn, promising Susannah he would send his own boy to fetch the horse she had left tied to a tree. Having decided it would be wisest not to reveal either of their names, unless it appeared that Lord Chalford was recognized, Susannah then found the landlord of the inn was exceedingly reluctant to accept such a guest, being vociferously supported by his tall and scraggy wife.
    ‘I’ve no time to be running up and down the stairs all day tending to an invalid, who’ll probably be a corpse before long!’ that lady declared belligerently.
    ‘He’ll be a corpse the sooner if you refuse him a bed!’ Susannah returned sharply, looking anxiously at Lord Chalford, who had swooned again with the shaking he had received on the short journey in the cart. ‘All I ask is a bed for him, and you need do no more than provide food and drink. I will take care of him until some of his own servants can be sent for.’
    ‘To cause more trouble,’ the woman grumbled and at that Susannah lost her temper and told the innkeeper and his wife exactly what she thought of them, castigating alike their lack of Christian charity and poor business sense to be turning away a gentleman who would certainly, if the quality of his riding coat and boots were any guide, pay generously for proper care and attention.
    ‘Fighting talk, my dear,’ Lord Chalford said in a weak but amused voice and Susannah turned quickly to him, relief in her eyes that he seemed to be recovering from the blow to his head.
    He smiled faintly at her and cut into the excuses the landlord was offering in a quiet voice that nevertheless made the innkeeper pause. ‘A bed if you please, and no more talk. I trust I shall not have need of it for long, and there’s gold enough in my pocket to pay for it,’ he added faintly and, overcome by the effort, passed again into insensibility.
    Susannah glared at the innkeeper and thrust her hand into Lord Chalford’s pocket, pulling out a heavy leather bag full of gold coins.
    ‘Is that enough for your trouble?’ she demanded scornfully and the innkeeper, albeit reluctantly,