Page 53 of A Wicked Duke's Redemption
“I am not sure,” the driver said, gesturing towards a tree, tangled up with the horses’ harnesses. A crowd had gathered, a few young men working at freeing the panicked animals. “The carriage began tipping, and we nearly fell into that ditch in the road. I managed to miss it, but instead, I struck the tree. Are you hurt?”
“No,” Violet replied. “Are you?”
The driver shook his head and wrung his hands together. “I apologize for frightening you, Your Grace. I have not the faintest idea what happened.”
Violet smiled gently. “There is no need to apologize. I am certain that you were not the cause of this accident.”
“The wheel looks as though it was tampered with,” a man said, crouching beside the carriage and examining it with a critical eye. “It appears that someone loosened it from the axle, and the strain of traveling caused it to bend,”
Violet put a hand against her forehead. Her head ached fiercely, but she was uncertain if the pain stemmed more from her injury or from the anxiety caused by such a dreadful event. She stumbled unsteadily towards the wheel and peered at it.
Even though she had no particular knowledge of carriages, she could readily see that the wheel had nearly fallen off the carriage entirely. The axle was also bent, splintered wood and twisted metal, just barely held together with what looked to be a single pin.
“Is it possible that the wheel merely loosened of its own accord during the trip?” Violet asked. “Perhaps, from the uneven road?”
The man looked doubtfully at the wheel. “I doubt it, Your Grace,” he said. “A little jostling might be expected, but I do not think any wheel would do this, regardless of how rough the terrain was.”
Violet nodded. Ice seemed to fill her veins as the realization sank in. Someone had done this on purpose. Surely, it must be an error of some kind—someone who meant to tighten the wheel and instead loosened it. No one would have any reason to want to cause her harm.
“Isn’t that the Duchess of Farnham?” someone muttered.
“It is.”
Another scattering of whispers followed. Violet could not decipher any exact threads of the conversation, but she heard the murmurs of “late duchess” and “happening again.” Violet drew in a deep breath of air to steady her nerves. She sensed the crowd watching her.
A quick glance confirmed that a handful of the crowd looked at her with pity. They likely knew the stories of the late Duchess of Farnham, and they assumed that she was to be the second duchess slain by Leo’s hand. She bit the inside of her cheek. Violet did not doubt Leo—not even for a second.
He was a good man. She had seen that herself, and besides, if hedidwish to kill her, he had already received several opportunities to do the deed. He would have no reason to wait so long before doing her harm, and he would surely not choose such a dramatic, obvious manner of doing it.
Violet squared her shoulders. She was a duchess, and she must act like one. If the assembled crowd noticed any hesitance on her part, they would spread word of it, and she could best help Leo by exuding confidence in him. “Can the carriage be repaired?” she asked.
The driver crouched down to inspect the damage. “It can, but not quickly, Your Grace. I can procure alternative transportation for you.”
Violet laughed, the sound emerging as an anxious titter. “Given the circumstances, I think I would rather walk. Know that I do not doubt your skills for even a moment, though. If it were not for you, I am sure the accident would have been much worse.”
Despite the large number of people gathered about, the carriage did not strike anyone. Violet sighed in relief. “I will walk,” she said, “and I will give a shilling to whoever will make all haste to my husband’s townhouse and ask him to meet me here. He will wish to inspect the damage himself.”
She could walk herself, of course, but if she brought Leo to the scene of the crime, it would show her complete confidence in him. If the people of London wanted something to gossip about, she would give them something.
Chapter 26
Leo felt as if his heart had stopped beating. He dismounted his horse, practically leaping from the animal’s back in his haste to reach Violet. The mangled carriage was twisted around a tree. The horses had been freed, and John—the footman—had taken charge of them both. Several parcels were placed neatly on the street, and a crowd of people milled around. Seeing him approach, several bowed. Others surged backward, whispering.
Violet stood like a band of fire amongst the chaos, her red hair missing a few pins and her eyes wide. A quick, searching glance revealed nothing. She seemed unharmed. A lump rose in Leo’s throat. “Violet,” he croaked.
Her head snapped towards him, her face softening in relief. “Leo!”
She lifted her skirts and hurried to him. Leo swept her into his arms, his breath hitching. She was really there, solid and in his arms. When he inhaled, the scent of her lavender cologne filled all his senses. “Violet, are you hurt?” he whispered.
“No,” she answered. “No, only a little frightened.”
He clung to her, taking comfort from her presence. She was alive and well, and for the first time since receiving the frantic message ofHer Grace has been in a terrible accident, Leo felt as if he could breathe. He had spent the entire wild ride through London’s streets thinking about Lydia’s death and worried that Violet might have also died unexpectedly, and his chest ached from the thought. His fear was so great that Leo felt as if he might choke on it.
“I am glad,” he said. “I am so very glad that you were unharmed, Violet. I will see to it that the driver is—”
“The driver did everything properly!” Violet interrupted. “He was most careful on the streets. It is only that someone appears to have damaged the carriage.”
“What?”
