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over them. She led the couple to Lady Seton’s door, then relinquished them. The gentleman, trying to cover his fear with blustering, went on and on about the damned coachman until Lady Seton’s footman closed the door.
    Alexandra returned to the wreckage. Fortunately, no one else had been hurt. The viscount and a carter helpinghim had managed to free the horses. The beasts danced about the street, eyes rolling, heads tossing. The viscount and the carter were now trying to calm them.
    The horses from the other two conveyances were being led off out of the way. Maggie stood on the carriage, hands on hips, surveying the mess. It was positively indecent for her to stand out here in breeches, but Alexandra had to admit the girl would not have been able to help had she been hampered by skirts.
    Another elegant carriage stopped on the far side of the wreckage. The Duke of St. Clair, one of her expected guests, emerged from it along with Lord Hildebrand Caldicott and his sister. The three of them skirted the debris and met Alexandra at her open front door.
    “Good heavens,” the duke exclaimed. “Mrs. Alastair, are you all right?”
    “I am, yes.” She cast a glance at Lady Seton’s front windows. “It seems no one was badly hurt, thank heavens.” Though there was still a danger to the young woman and her unborn child. Alexandra bit her lip, hoping that the trauma of the accident would not cause the lady to miscarry. Lady Seton was the motherly sort; no doubt she’d insist on the young woman resting a while before trying to return home.
    Lord Hildebrand looked anxious. “You ought to go inside, Mrs. Alastair. Those horses don’t look safe.”
    The viscount was holding them now, his broad shoulders taut against his coat. He had calmed the horses considerably.
    “Well I am going in,” Lady Henrietta Caldicott announced. “This has upset me very much.” She glanced at Maggie and sniffed. “Look at that urchin child. What is she doing there? They should not allow them into this part of Mayfair.”
    She is the Honorable Miss Maggie Finley , Alexandra suddenly itched to say. And her viscount father just heard you insult her.
    Instead, she beckoned to Jeffrey. “Jeffrey, show Lady Henrietta into the reception room and bring more refreshment.”
    Jeffrey, looking disappointed that he could not remain and ogle the wreckage, bowed haphazardly and pushed himself into the house. Lord Hildebrand drifted after them.
    “Is that Viscount Stoke?” the duke asked, shading his eyes.
    The viscount relinquished reins to the carriage’s white-faced coachman. The coachman looked the horses over anxiously, his scarlet coat smeared with mud and horse droppings. The viscount raised his hand to acknowledge the duke.
    The bespectacled gentleman who had stopped to help was moving toward Alexandra and the duke. The duke, not noticing, went to greet the viscount.
    What happened next, Alexandra ever after remembered in slow motion. The viscount caught sight of the bespectacled man. A curious look came over his face, a beat of recognition that almost instantly dissolved into pure rage. Maggie, on top of the coach, stared at the bespectacled man in sudden astonishment. “Mr. Henderson!” she called.
    The bespectacled gentleman did not answer her. He stepped up to Alexandra. He had a strong face, clear gray eyes, and white-blond hair. His subdued suit made him look rather like a curate or vicar. He was handsome enough that were he a vicar, young ladies would go to chapel simply to stare at him. Their parents would be amazed at their religious fervor.
    “Mrs. Alastair?” he asked in a polite voice.
    It was not proper for a strange gentleman to simply approach a lady, but perhaps the distress of the accident had made him forget his manners. “Yes?”
    “Thank you,” he said.
    Before she could ask, for what, sir? , he grabbed a handful of her hair, wrenched her head back, and kissed her hard across the mouth.

Chapter Five
    Alexandra