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grabbed his leg.
    "That was for Henry." Delia had jumped to her feet.
She drew her foot back. "And this is for me."
    Donovan whirled around and danced back. An inch; his
poor bruised shin escaped by an inch. "Stop that, you hoyden!"
    There was a loud whoosh, and then his skull split in
two, sending him spiraling into darkness.
     
    ****
     
    Donovan's senses prickled at his consciousness,
pulling him awake. People chattered in hushed tones, pottery pieces
pinged as they clanked against each other, probably a maid cleaning
up the broken pot, and ever so quietly, music played. Something
cool and soft dabbed at his forehead. His eyes fluttered open, and
Tess's face swam into view.
    "It serves you right," she scolded, pressing a cold
compress to his cheek.
    "W-w-what happened?"
    She let out an exasperated sigh. "Lord Norcross took
exception to your unfounded attack on his person and broke a chair
over your head."
    Over her shoulder, Lord Kringle tsked. "I expect this
type of behavior from Paisley. But you, Gatewood?"
    The thrumming in his skull made it impossible for him
to speak, much less express regret to his host for such behavior.
He tried to sit up. Searing pain shot through his head and he
groaned.
    "Take it easy. You took a nasty blow to the head."
Tess tried to push him back down, but he wanted none of it and sat
up.
    The room swirled in every direction, making him sick
at his stomach, and he dropped his head in his hands. He definitely
should have stayed down longer. Almost wished he was still
unconscious. Then he wouldn't have to face what an utter fool he'd
been, how shamefully he'd acted. Let me wake up. I beg you, have
mercy and let this nightmare end now.
    "I say! You've gone quite pale, Gatewood. Best I send
for the doctor," Lord Kringle said.
    "That's very gracious, but not necessary. I'll be
fine in a moment." He'd created enough scandal for one night. It
was past time that he leave.
    He glanced around. "Where's Delia?"
    "I'm sorry, Donovan. She left."
    "Of course she did. Do you know where she went?"
    Tess bit her lip. "Promise you'll hold your temper
when I tell you."
    He knew. Heaven above, he knew where they'd gone. And
it was all his fault. To say he'd made a mull of it was putting it
lightly. "They headed to Gretna Green, didn't they?"
    She sighed. "Delia said it was the only way, because
you'd never consent to letting them marry."
    Cursing under his breath, he staggered to his feet.
"Lord Kringle, would you be so kind as to have my carriage brought
around and see that Miss Warren gets home safely."
    "The footman is already fetching the coach and my
wrap," Tess said, handing him his hat and gloves. "I'm coming with
you."
    "I appreciate the offer, but—"
    "You've just sustained a nasty injury to the head and
could very well have a concussion. You are in no condition to
travel alone." She pulled her gloves on. "Not to mention that when
you find Delia, she's going to be in no mood to listen to you."
    Guilt stabbed at his conscience. Her reputation had
already been tarnished tonight because of him. The last thing he
wanted was to cause her more scandal. But what if he never saw her
again? Things with Delia had already turned out far worse than they
had the first time he'd attended this blasted ball. Now that he
knew what he'd be losing, the thought of letting Tess out of his
sight — out of his life — was unbearable.
    Maybe that's what he deserved.

Chapter Eight
     
    No good had ever come from this blasted holiday. Past
Duke had told him he had to come back to fix the future, and he'd
tried, truly he had. But just as she'd done the first time on
Christmas Eve in 1812, Delia had run off with McDaniel.
    Soft laughter drew his attention. In the seat across
from him, Tess had propped her arm against the side of the carriage
and placed the back of her hand over her mouth.
    "May I ask what you find so amusing?"
    Tess wiped the tears from her eyes. "Do forgive me,
Gatewood. But surely you see the irony? You've