Page 15 of The Highwayman's Bite

Chapter Six

Vivian tried not tobe sullen as she and Madame Renarde were handed up into the Thornton carriage. She even managed a smile when Uncle bent to kiss her cheek. But the truth was, she did not at all feel like dancing and being introduced to countless new people and socializing with the few she’d already met. All she wanted was to curl up in the cozy overstuffed chair in the library and finish the novel she’d started this afternoon.

Lord Thornton’s hooded eyes seemed to pierce through her façade of gaiety and he frowned as he held the carriage door. “I am sorry I am unable to escort you. If my business concludes soon enough, I promise to come to the ball and perhaps have a dance with you before I fetch you home.”

“I would like that very much.” Vivian would indeed feel better about this ordeal if he’d be able to accompany her for at least part of it. Something about him made her feel safe and accepted.

He inclined his head with a soft smile. “Try not to break any hearts. Or cause another scandal.”

The door shut before she could respond. Perhaps that was for the best.

As the carriage began to roll, Vivian leaned against the velvet squabs and fought back a wince as her back muscles spasmed. She’d been a little too vigorous with her swordplay last night and was paying the price. Her calves and thighs throbbed as well. Not at all a good constitution for dancing.

She peered out the carriage window, watching the light of the three-quarter moon paint the rolling hills and pastures in gilt silver. Perhaps she and Madame Renarde could find a nice balcony with some matrons and avoid the dancing.

Suddenly, the horses screamed, and the carriage lurched.

“What on earth?” Vivian reached for the leather strap to keep her balance.

But her silk gloves were too slippery to secure her grip. The carriage slammed to a halt, throwing Vivian onto the floor. Madame Renarde groaned in pain as her head struck the carriage wall.

“Are you all right?” Vivian asked, scrambling up from the floor.

“Oui, Cherie,” Madame Renarde replied and continued in French as she tended to do when she was out of sorts. “Did we crash, or did something spook the horses?”

“I don’t know,” Vivian replied in French. It hadn’t felt like a crash, but then again, she’d never been in a carriage that collided with another, so how would she know? She took a deep breath to slow her rapid pulse. “I’m going to check on the driver.”

Vivian opened the window and leaned out to look at the driver’s perch. “Jeffries?” she called, switching back to English. “Are you hurt?”

The footman did not respond. Heart in her throat, Vivian opened the door and stepped out of the carriage. Madame Renarde would be behind her in moments to scold, but Vivian would be contrite later. She needed to know if the poor man was all right.

“Jeffries?” she repeated, keeping one hand on the side of the carriage. Her boots sank slightly in the soft earth. The autumn rains had made the road muddy, but it shouldn’t be severe enough to bog down a carriage.

A horrifying thought leapt into her mind. What if the footman’s heart gave out? What if he was—She rounded the carriage and the driver’s perch came into view. The lanterns flickered, illuminating the footman’s profile in sickly yellow light. Jeffries lay back in the seat, his head thrown back.

Vivian’s breath froze in her lungs, ice in the October night air.

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