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“You’re lovely.” Gus closed his eyes, resisting the urge to smack himself in the forehead. He had not meant to say the words out loud. “I mean, Dr. Augustus Wharren at your service, ma’am.”
She smiled. His heart melted.
“I am Miss Henrietta Comden, and this is my sister, Miss Horatia,” she said, her head tipped toward the precocious imp whose eyes darted from one adult to the other.
“Tia, please,” the girl added, pointing to herself and then her sister, “and Etta.”
Miss Comden sent a warning glare to Tia. “My sister does not always follow proper etiquette. You’ll have to excuse her manners.”
“These are rather unusual circumstances.” He saw Johns lugging a large trunk. “How far is your destination? Perhaps we can take you there.”
“Oh, I’m afraid our journey ends in Scotland. We planned to stop at the next inn for the night.” Miss Comden peered into the darkness. “I do hope MacIntyre is all right.”
“Well, it seems I may be able to provide my damsels in distress with a knight in shining armor and complete your fairytale rescue.” Gus cringed inwardly at his bravado. “There is no inn nearby, but Bliss Manor is at your service. We can track your driver, and I’ll see the wheel is fixed on the morrow.”
“We couldn’t impose.”
A snowflake landed on her sooty lashes. He crooked his finger and gently flicked it off. “It’s better than a night in this carriage. My house is enormous, and it’s only myself and the staff. Mrs. Willoughby will make sure there are no improprieties.”
Miss Comden chewed her plump bottom lip. He couldn’t take his eyes off her white teeth scraping against the pink flesh.
“Sir?” asked Johns, still holding the large trunk. “Up or down?”
“She makes the best marmalade in the county. Are you hungry?” The oddity of their situation suddenly occurred to him. Two unmarried females with only a driver for an escort, traveling at night with no prearranged plans. It was almost as if they were—
“Yes, we will take advantage of your generous hospitality.”
Johns gave a sigh of relief as he hoisted the trunk onto the top of the carriage and retrieved the other bags. Gus helped the ladies into the brougham. He sat across from them, and they set off to find the driver, MacIntyre.
The Scot was trudging through the snow a few miles down the road. He eyed Gus suspiciously through chattering teeth but reassured his charges with a smile. “Are ye all right, Miss Etta? Miss Tia?” he asked gruffly. They assured him all was well, and he climbed up to sit next to Johns.
“How far is your estate, Dr. Wharren?” Miss Comden asked as they passed the damaged carriage again.
“Less than an hour. The roads will slow us down some.” He rummaged under the seat. “Would you like a blanket?”
They both nodded, and he shook out the plaid wool and spread it over their laps.
Miss Comden smiled gratefully and peered out the slats of the shade. “The wind is stronger. The snow is coming down harder.”
“We’ll be stranded here for weeks,” said Tia gleefully. “I love adventures.”
Her cheerfulness spread through the carriage. Miss Comden began to smile, a shy, endearing smile that made him want to take her hand and kiss her on the cheek like a giddy schoolboy. Gus couldn’t have wiped the grin off his face if someone pinched him. Hard. Why was he suddenly so ridiculously happy?
