Both men seemed to be struck dumb, then Matt started to laugh, big belly laughs, and Dom joined in.
Finally, when it seemed they would never stop, Dom nuzzled the back of her neck. “You may not know it, my love, but that is a far worse punishment than I could ever mete out.”
For the first time in her life Dotty wanted to preen. “He has a very nice house that is going to waste. I do not see why he cannot house war widows or orphans.”
Dom kissed her ear. “You are diabolical, but will she go along with it?”
“I believe she will,” Dotty smiled “I met her at Lady Thornhill’s, and she is extremely interested in our cause. Now about the Whitakers . . .”
“No!”Dom and Matt said in unison.
“Ask my mother or better yet, yours, to write them when we return.” He pulled her even more snugly against him, as if he would never let her go. “Speaking of dinner. We’re never going to get anywhere plodding along at this pace.”
Matt glanced over at them. “I seem to recall a coaching inn not far from here. If you’d like, I can go ahead and make the arrangements.”
Just then, she glanced up the road to see a coach bearing down on them. “Move to the side!”
To her surprise the coachman pulled up the carriage and hailed them. “My lords.”
“We didn’t expect to see you for at least another half an hour,” Dom called out.
“Mr. Paken told me to get to you as soon as I could.” The coachman tapped his nose. “I know every toll keeper around.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, thank Heaven. Sweetheart, let me down.”
Once she was in the carriage, he made to climb in after her. “Tie my horse on the back.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” Matt said. “You’re not married yet. Get back on your horse.”
Dom swore under his breath. “But we’re betrothed. It is perfectly acceptable.”
“I don’t care.”
She put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. “Dom, just get on your horse, so we can go home.”
“Two days.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Then you may ride in the coach with me all you wish.”
He gave her a swift kiss and remounted his horse. “There is no point in arguing. We have a betrothal ball to attend this evening.”
“Now, ye just wait a minute there.”
Dotty’s eyes widened. Oh no! It was Mr. Whitaker. She would not go back to that house. “I did not expect to see you again. I wanted to say that I am—”
“No doubt about that, Missy. He pointed his rifle at the coachman. Ye just get down from there. I’m taking you back until your father comes for you.”
“Look here.” Dom’s tone was haughtier than she had ever heard it. “Miss Stern told me what Fotherby said. It is a lie. I am the Marquis of Merton, and she is betrothed to me. Her parents are at my house in Town.”
Mr. Whitaker scowled. “I know all about you lords. You can be anything you say you are and still be a fortune hunter.”
“Here is my card.” Dom reached into his pocket, and flushed. “I must have forgotten them, but this gentleman is the Earl of Worthington.” Dom glanced at Matt. “Give him your card.”
“I don’t think I have them with me either.”
Mr. Whitaker smirked. “Marquis this and Earl that. Sounds like a Banbury story to me. I’ll just take the lady with me, and she’ll be safe with my wife until it’s sorted out.”
For Heaven’s sake! At this rate, she would miss her grandmother’s ball. “Mr. Whitaker. If you do not believe them, come with us. I assure you, my mother and father, Sir Henry and Lady Stern, as well as Lord Merton’s mother will swear to you that I did not run off. Our betrothal ball is this evening. My grandmother, the Duchess of Bristol is giving it and we must not be late.” She paused for a moment and frowned at the older man. “And no shooting anyone.”
