Page 52 of A Duke in the Rough

Shouts sounded ahead, and Burwood turned his attention toward the commotion. “But at the moment, perhaps we should try to save the fox.”

As Burwood kicked his horse back into action, Honoria followed him, vowing to give his entreaty serious consideration. Some things were worth the risk.

Drake didhis level best to stay close to Anne. Buttercup fought against her direction more than once as she ignored Drake’s warning and tugged the reins a bit too firmly.

The hounds closed in on the fox. At the moment, the little beastie sat upon a group of fallen trees as if to taunt both hounds and riders. Stacked on each other precariously, the trees formed a flattened and splayed X, and the fox perched at the summit of one. The hounds clawed at the fallen oaks, trying to climb their way to their prey, their baying increasingly frenetic. With an agile flip of its tail, the fox jumped off and raced away on the other side.

Chaos erupted. The hounds scratched and clawed their way up and over the fallen trees through the dip at the juncture. Some of the more skillful riders risked the leap over the trees, their horses skidding on wet leaves when landing on the other side. Stratford and other riders took a longer, more circuitous route around the debris.

“Go around, Miss Weatherby.” Drake nodded in the direction the more prudent riders had taken.

Before Drake could gain her agreement and lead her, Victor Pratt’s horse lost its footing and stumbled on the leap over, tumbling Victor from the saddle. Victor held up a hand to signal he was uninjured. However, as he scrambled to rise, his limp said otherwise. Someone needed to see to him.

Drake repeated his order. “Go around, Miss Weatherby. I shall meet you on the other side.”

He dropped back a good distance. Victor and his horse still blocked the lowest clearing. Drake would need to work up speed for the jump. If any horse were capable of clearing the greater height, it was Major. With a determination he hadn’t felt in years, he kicked his mount into action.

He cleared the stacked trees with only an inch to spare, and although Major slid on the wet leaves, he quickly regained his footing. Drake jumped off, pulled Major to the side, and hurried toward Victor. “Mr. Pratt, allow me to assist?—”

“I’m coming across, Mr. Merrick!”

A chill slid down Drake’s spine at Anne’s call. As if his body refused to move faster, he seemed to pivot in slow motion, then held his hands up to stop her. “No, Miss Weatherby!”

But she was already racing toward them, trying to leap at the same spot he’d only barely cleared.

Upon hearing the commotion ahead—thefurious barking of the dogs and unintelligible shouts—Honoria and Burwood hastened their approach, only to arrive in time to witness the nightmarish events.

Utter horror locked the words in Honoria’s throat at the scene. However, if she were a less genteel woman, she would have cursed. Burwood said the words for her, his profanity forgivable under the circumstances.

“What the blazes is she thinking?” Burwood said, after sending her an apologetic look for his previous expletive.

Drake and Victor Pratt watched dumbstruck from the other side of several large downed trees as Anne foolishly raced forward in an attempt to clear the debris.

Honoria’s gaze snapped to Drake’s, the terror in his eyes matching that compressing her chest.

Burwood stated the obvious, “She’ll never make it.”

They all shouted for Anne to stop, but she ignored them. Fighting the urge to close her eyes and pray, Honoria willed Buttercup to either veer off or soar across. It didn’t matter, as long as Anne remained safe.

Buttercup did neither. Several feet before the debris, the horse balked, throwing his head down, coming to a complete and sudden stop and pitching Anne forward from the saddle across the fallen trees to the other side.

Burwood leaped from the saddle, then quickly assisted Honoria down. They rushed toward the fallen trees. With a grace matching his title, Burwood vaulted across the dip at the lowest point.

Honoria struggled to get a foothold and climb over, the leather gloves protecting her hands from the sharp bark.

“Allow me.” Burwood held out his hands, and she gave a short nod. He lifted her by the waist and hauled her across.

Drake had not budged from where he kneeled by Anne’s side. Across from Drake, Victor Pratt also bent down over Anne’s still form.

Honoria’s heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage as she lowered herself to Anne’s side next to Drake. “Is she . . .” Unable to finish the sentence, she met Drake’s eyes again.

“She’s breathing.”

At his words, a rush of air escaped Honoria’s lungs, as if she had withheld her own breath in solidarity with Anne.

Drake patted Anne’s cheeks. “Miss Weatherby, wake up. Can you hear me?”

Tears formed in Honoria’s eyes, but she willed them back. She must remain calm in order to assist. At Anne’s feet, Burwood had crouched beside her, and she turned toward him. “Retrieve her brother, and Dr. Marbry if you can locate him.”

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