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Yet Fiennes headed quickly across the road, walking ahead of the duke and duchess. He pushed open the door to the public room.

She was there.

His heart gave a great thump and settled. Ella was standing beside her uncle. She whirled around when he entered, and their eyes met.

Relief flooded his body. She hadn’t been injured. Instead, she stood in the morning sunshine, so beautiful that his head spun.

Her strawberry hair took on golden highlights, her eyes inky blue and fringed with long lashes, her mouth a delicious raspberry.

She would be his wife. Gratitude filled him. He strode toward her, and she met him halfway.

“Oh, Fiennes,” she whispered. She was biting her lip, eyes huge with shock.

His hands wrapped around her arms. “Are you injured?”

“No. But Fiennes, I’m sorry to tell you—”

“There you are!” Regina called from the front of the room. He turned his head to see her hailing the duke and duchess, who had just entered.

The viscount didn’t bother to turn. “I’ll have his head. I’ll destroy him!”

“Did a groom cause the carriage wreck?” Fiennes asked Ella.

“Fulvia ran away with one of the duke’s grooms! She’s gone to Scotland, to marry him over the anvil.”

Fiennes almost cheered, yet: “I don’t believe it,” he said flatly. “Your cousin would never put herself to the bother and discomfort of traveling to Scotland.”

Ella’s eyes searched his face. “I’m afraid that she has done just that, and she stole a carriage to do so. Are you disappointed?”

“Bloody hell, no,” Fiennes said, allowing a huge smile to take over his face. He caught up one of Ella’s hands and put it to his lips.

She met his eyes and turned pink.

“You’re mine,” he told her, his voice deep with conviction.

“I’ll make this relatively painless, shall I?” Regina announced. “The man wearing my brother’s livery—the man whom Fulvia took to Gretna Green—was not truly a groom.”

“Then who was he?” the Duke of Lennox asked.

“Her future husband has been playing the role of Petruchio on the stage of the Theater Royal.”

The viscount groaned loudly and dropped into a chair, head in his hands.

“That’s right,” Regina said with satisfaction. “Romeo and Juliet have run off together.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

YOU’RE MINE, AND I WON’T GIVE YOU UP.

As soon as the Duke and Duchess of Lennox escorted an irritable Lady Regina away, Fiennes turned to Ella and said, “I’ll bring you home.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that expression on your face,” Ella said wonderingly.

“Giddy?” He bent his head and kissed her.

“Fiennes! My uncle might see you!”

They both turned to look, but the viscount was otherwise occupied. He had grabbed the brandy and was industriously drinking his way to the bottom of the decanter.