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three—one, two, three!’
    The rope tautened as the two young men pulled. The tree
rolled, the branch lifted clear of the Duke, and Sturridge, heaving manfully
against the base of the pillar, was able to wedge it tightly so that all the
weight of the timber was held up by the antique marble column. As soon as he
was clear, Rochford staggered to his feet and thrust his hands under
Wilkinson’s blood-soaked greatcoat. Minette and Sturridge ran to help him, and
together they heaved the unfortunate agent out of danger.
    ‘You can let go of the rope now,’ directed Minette
breathlessly, and the footmen obeyed her. The trunk rolled forward, but the
prop held, only settling deeper into the mud.
    Sturridge, displaying some discretion, backed away,
leaving his master and mistress to stare at one another. ‘How dare you disobey
me?’ demanded Rochford, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth. ‘You
could have been killed.’
    ‘Had I not come to your rescue, I think you
certainly would have been,’ countered Minette defiantly. ‘Or did you have a clever
plan that I did not suspect?’
    His mouth twisted. ‘I should have thought of one
eventually.’ He held out his hand to her, and she put her own into it. There
was a squelch of mud where their palms met. Minette tried to remain solemn, but
a bubble of hysterical laughter overcame her and, after a short struggle, she
burst into giggles.
    Rochford stared at her, shaking his head while a
rueful smile curved his mouth. ‘Is this indeed my dainty Duchess? All drenched
in mud and blood, with your hair in tangles and your petticoats wet through and
clinging around your ankles?’
    ‘It is, Sir, or will be once I have had a hot bath
and put on some clean clothes.’
    He bent to kiss the dirty, little hand he held. ‘I
am in your debt. Thank you.’
    The laughter left her face, and a lump rose in her
throat. She schooled her countenance to indifference and said coolly, ‘You are
not in my debt. I only did what anyone would have done.’
    ‘No, do not say that,’ he said quickly. ‘I have
great pleasure in being under an obligation to you.’
    ‘I cannot conceive why you should say that.’
    ‘Can you not?’
    ‘This is a very foolish and pointless discussion,’
she said in scolding accents and, turning on her heel, trudged wearily back to
the Castle.

 
 
Six

 
    Minette did not meet the Duke again until dinner, which was served at a
rather later hour than was usual. She had seen to the disposition of Mr
Wilkinson in one of the Castle’s many bedchambers and returned to his bedside
as soon as she had bathed and changed into a warm gown of soft brown lambswool,
fashioned with a high collar of ruffled lawn and long, tight sleeves.
    Dr Eastwood, punctiliously attired in a snuff-coloured
frock coat and the powdered wig of his profession, peered over the top of his
spectacles at her and said in the accents of one who always took a gloomy view
of life, ‘It is bad, your Grace, very bad. A grave injury for
a man of his years. What we call a compound fracture of the Tibialis Anterior .’
    Minette was in no mood for this medical pomposity. ‘Yes,
yes, I could see for myself his leg was broken. Whom should we notify? Is there
a Mrs Wilkinson?’
    The doctor began packing his instruments away,
first wiping those that had become bloodied upon his handkerchief. ‘No, Wilkinson
has been a widower for many years. There is a daughter settled in London, I
believe. It is as well if he remains at the Castle until I can arrange for a
nurse to care for him in his home.’
    Minette averted her gaze from the gory implements,
saying with an effort, ‘Of course. I shall speak to Mrs Pritchard. I am certain
the Duke will say he must stay with us as long as is needful.’
    The doctor bowed his appreciation of this liberality.
‘I have given him a dose of laudanum, and no doubt he will sleep for several
hours. I will send my apprentice over with an opiate draught. He will need