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on that seat. How’s his lordship to give his mind to his horses if you are like to fall out o’ the carriage at any minute?’
    The viscount grinned.
    ‘Definitely
not
at death’s door,’ he murmured, as Lucasta meekly turned to sit down.

    It took them several minutes to reach the Pigeons and Lucasta realized at a glance that this was not one of the usual coaching inns. The yard was surrounded by an assortment of run-down buildings and the lad who came running out of the stable stared in amazement at the magnificent equipage that pulled up before him.
    ‘Quick, boy, take their heads.’
    The viscount’s order seemed to surprise the boy, who moved uncertainly towards the snorting, head-tossing beasts. At that moment the landlord stepped out of the inn and took in the situation in one glance.
    ‘Look to the horses, Davy, quick now.’ He ran forward to help Lord Kennngton lift his groom from the curricle. ‘Well now, sir, what’s amiss?’
    ‘Footpads on the common,’ retorted the viscount. He was supporting the near-unconscious Potts but hesitated and looked back at his team.
    Lucasta stepped up.
    ‘You look to your man, my lord. I will see that your horses are stabled properly.’ She read the doubt in his eyes and put up her chin, her own eyes glinting. ‘I know what to do; you may trust me, sir.’
    With a curt nod and a look that told Lucasta he considered he had no choice in the matter, Lord Kennington gave his attention to his injured groom. Orders were barked out, the tap boy was sent running for the surgeon and Potts was carried indoors. Squaring her shoulders, Lucasta turned towards the diminutive stable lad.
    ‘Well, Davy,’ she said, in as gruff a voice as she could manage, ‘let us take care of his lordship’s cattle, shall we?’

CHAPTER SIX
    Two hours later Lucasta went in search of the viscount. She was directed to one of the inn’s best bedrooms and went in to find Lord Kennington conducting a quiet but earnest discussion with a black-coated man in a grey full-bottomed wig. They were standing to one side of a large bed, where Potts was lying so unnaturally straight and still that for a brief moment Lucasta feared he had not survived.
    ‘He is asleep,’ said the viscount, observing her shocked face. ‘The landlord has set aside a private parlour for us. Go and wait for me there, Luke, we have almost finished.’
    Thus dismissed, Lucasta went off to the little sitting-room hastily vacated by the landlord’s family when that shrewd businessman realized that this unexpected guest was prepared to pay handsomely for his comforts. Unable to settle, she whiled away her time ordering supper and stirring the coals until they yielded a cheerful blaze. When Lord Kennington came in some time later she had just finished dragging the little gate-leg table closer to the fire.
    ‘There is such a draught coming from the window I thought we would be more comfortable here,’ she explained, pulling a chair up to the table. ‘You see our host has already brought us wine, and I have ordered a meal for us. Are youready to eat now, or do you wish to see the Justice of the Peace first?’
    ‘I am not going to report the attack. I do not wish to draw attention to our situation here.
    ‘Oh.’ She digested this. ‘Is that because of me?’
    ‘Well, yes, Luke, it is.’
    ‘Oh,’ she said again. ‘How is Mr Potts?’
    ‘Sleeping now.’ The viscount carried a second chair across the room. ‘It is only a flesh wound but it is deep, and Jacob has lost a great deal of blood. He is very weak, but the surgeon thinks he will recover well enough if he is allowed to rest for a few days.’
    ‘That is good news.’
    The viscount frowned.
    ‘Yes, but it is dashed inconvenient.’
    ‘My lord?’
    He gave her an impatient look.
    ‘What am I supposed to do with you?’
    ‘What – what do you mean?’
    ‘It is one thing to take you up and carry you to my godmother’s house all in one day, it is quite another