In the dim candlelight, Rosalind saw Conbatten’s lifeless body lying next to the coachman’s. Lord Hamill bent down and held his hand over Conbatten’s nose and mouth.
“I’ve killed Conbatten?” Rosalind shrieked.
“That would be very bad,” Shrimps said. “He’s a duke, you know.”
“No, he’s not dead. You just knocked him silly it seems,” Lord Hamill said.
Van Doren came in and took in the scene. Then he glared at Rosalind.
She ignored him. She had no time for Van Doren’s lectures just now.
Shrimps was not so capable of ignoring Van Doren. He let out a sudden wail. “My lord, I didn’t know anything about it! How was I to know I was a baron?”
Van Doren appeared mightily confused at that pronouncement.
As Rosalind raced to Conbatten’s side, she said over her shoulder, “Shrimps is Henry Conroy, Baron Dedmont. We’ll talk about it later. Do take him to get a glass of ale or some other restorative—his nerves are quite rung out.”
Van Doren stared at his kitchen boy. Shrimps shrugged.
“Come on then,” Van Doren said, grabbing Shrimps by the coat. “At least you didn’t bring the dog.”
Rosalind sat down next to Conbatten and raised his head to gently rest in her lap. She brushed his hair from his closed eyes. His wonderful hair. His wonderful face that looked so peaceful just now, as if he were asleep.
Hamill rose and said, “I’ll get some cold water. That ought to rouse him.”
Darden had come back with a length of rope and set to tying up the coachman.
Conbatten had rescued her. He had come.
Of course, there were several unintended circumstances surrounding the rescue, not the least of which was that the kidnapping was not ever meant to be real and she certainly had not planned on hitting him over the head.
He slowly opened his eyes.
“Conbatten,” Rosalind said. “You have rescued me.”
“He had some help, you know,” Darden said, tying up the coachman.
Rosalind ignored him. Who cared if he had help? He had done it, she was sure he had managed the whole thing.
“I am very, very sorry about…well, all of this,” Rosalind said.
Conbatten laughed and then clutched his head where the iron had struck him.
“Areyou sorry?” he asked her.
“Very,” Rosalind said.
“You ought to be,” the duke said. “You entirely disrupted my plans for this evening.”
Rosalind’s heart, which had been so buoyed up at seeing him, began to sink. What did he mean? That he’d missed a card game or some other engagement?
“You had more important plans?” she asked. “More important than coming for me?”
“Rosalind!” Darden said. “You’ve just knocked out His Grace after he’s been kind enough to lead us here. Perhaps do not commence an interrogation of his calendar.”
“Rosalind Bennington,” Conbatten said, “I intended to pull you aside at Lady Bloomington’s masque, mention the idea that I am entirely besotted by you, and inquire if you would consent to marry.”
“What?” Darden said softly.
