Not Always a Saint by Mary Jo Putney

Jessie?”
    Jessie managed a smile. “No, but I would dearly love a cup of tea!”
    â€œIt shall be done.” The duchess moved toward the shop, and in one swift gesture collected a waiter and gave the order.
    Daniel was reluctant to leave Jessie, but duty called. He crossed the stretch of grass to where the curricle driver lay in a muddy lump. The fellow was moaning and blood was dripping into his face, but at least he wasn’t dead. Lady Julia had been right about both the soft landing and the drinking; the boy smelled like a bottle of brandy had been poured over him.
    Daniel knelt beside him and started a swift examination. “Congratulations,” he said dryly as he used a handkerchief to wipe the blood from what turned out to be a messy but shallow laceration of the skull. “You’re not as dead as you should be. Does anything seem broken?”
    The driver blinked. “Don-don’t think so.”
    â€œMr. Shelton,” said a disgusted voice. It was Kirkland, who’d turned the horses over to another man and come to investigate. “You are not only a fool, but a dangerous fool. I shall suggest to your father that he take your horses away. By the mercy of the god of horses, it appears that they won’t need to be put down, but your curricle is fit for nothing but firewood.” He continued with a tongue-lashing that surely peeled the fellow down to raw, twitching nerves.
    Daniel listened admiringly as he finished his examination and used his handkerchief to put a crude bandage on Shelton’s head. An older man joined them. “I’ll take you home, lad, and my footman will lead the horses after us. You were lucky.”
    Shelton pushed himself to a sitting position dizzily. “Luckier than I deserved,” he muttered, his voice shaking. He glanced toward Beth and shuddered. Daniel suspected that the young man wouldn’t drive so recklessly anytime soon.
    Having done what was necessary, he rose and looked over to Jessie. She was on her feet now, her composure restored and looking quite achingly beautiful as she sipped a steaming cup of tea. Beside her, a grass-stained Beth was happily digging into another ice. Daniel gave silent thanks that the accident had caused no serious injuries.
    Except, perhaps, to his heart or possibly his brain. He no longer cared about the fact that Jessie, Lady Kelham, was utterly wrong for him. Despite their differences, he saw only one possible course of action.
    He’d just have to ask her to marry him.

Chapter 11
    â€œY ou have a visitor, Lady Kelham.” The Ashton footman presented a silver tray with a card set neatly in the middle. “He’s in the small salon. Will you receive him?”
    Jessie took the card, wondering if it was one of the two older gentlemen who had been calling on her assiduously. But they came in the afternoon, not the morning, and eyed each other like wary cats when they visited at the same time.
    L ORD R OMAYNE. A mere two words that made her pulse jump with an alarming mix of emotions. Her mind had been churning since the near-disastrous visit to Gunter’s the day before, and his lordship had been far too present in her thoughts. It would be easier to say she wasn’t at home, but she owed him too much to hide. “I’ll see him.”
    After the footman withdrew, she checked her appearance in the mirror that hung above the mantel in her small sitting room. Black gown, firmly restrained hair, a very proper widow. But her eyes. How could she control her eyes?
    Should she ask Julia or Mariah to join her? But they were both in the nursery with their babies, a time of day they loved. She shouldn’t interrupt.
    Realizing she couldn’t delay any longer, she descended to the ground floor. Mariah had told her how much drama the small salon had witnessed over the years. Jessie hoped there would be no more today.
    Dr. Herbert—Lord Romayne—was gazing out the window