Lily looked up at Blackmoor to ask him. The question died on her lips, however, when she noticed the intensity of his stare, which was focused on her. She nearly lost her breath.
"We're here," he said, his voice low and gravely.
Lily shook her head, bringing herself back to the present, but the motion caused the throbbing pain to reoccur. Sure enough, they were in front of a quaint inn, two stories tall with a good-sized stable.
Lord William strode toward them, his dark hair windblown and a charming grin on his face. "Ah, there you are. I was starting to think my brother had absconded with you."
Lily smiled. What a ridiculous thing to say. "He's been ignoring me for years, Lord William. I hardly think he wants anything to do with me at all."
"I would beg to differ on that point, Miss Rutledge," Lord William said as he walked closer to the duke's mount.
Blackmoor growled.
His brother clasped his hand to his chest, feigning insult. "Lord William? My dear Miss Rutledge, we are practically family. Call me Will."
Behind her, Blackmoor grumbled something unintelligible.
His brother roared with laughter. "So charming, Simon." He lifted Lily from the horse and placed her on the ground, offering his arm. "Come on, my dear. Dr. Albright will be along shortly. I do hope you'll let me call you Lily."
She didn't have much of a choice, not that she was fussy about that sort of thing. She nodded. "Of course."
"Brilliant," Will gushed, escorting her into the taproom, which was much brighter than the frightening establishment they'd been to earlier.
A bosomy barmaid rushed to Lily. "Oh, you poor dear, his lordship said you'd been injured."
"Indeed," Will said with a frown. "Do you have Her Grace's room prepared, Molly?"#p#分页标题#e#
Her Grace!
Lily took a surprised step back. A strong hand
squeezed her shoulder, and Lily turned her head to see Blackmoor behind her, a deadly frown on his face. "I would like for my wife to lie down until your doctor arrives."
Lily's head began to pound, and she thought she might faint. Apparently Blackmoor did, too. Before she knew it, the duke had scooped her up in his arms. What was it with these men who felt the need to lift and carry her from place to place?
"Right this way, Your Grace," the bosomy girl said in a panic.
Blackmoor carried Lily up a flight of stairs at the back of the taproom, depositing her in the middle of a small bed. He waited until the tavern wench shut the door before sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.
Lily gaped at him. "What was that about?"
The duke shook his head. "I do wish Will had warned us, but he is right. It wouldn't do for someone to know that an unmarried lady traveled with the two of us. This is for your own good."
"My reputation?" Lily closed her eyes, wishing the pounding in her head would subside. There were so many more important things to worry about. Like the fact that he was sitting on the end of her bed, with the door closed.
"Yes, your reputation."
Either she was slightly addled from the knock on the head or he thought she was an idiot. She wasn't sure which.
"Surely you can do more than just repeat what I say," she said as he fluffed a pillow and placed it under her head, urging her to lie down. She batted his hands away.
Blackmoor scowled at her. "If it was found that you traveled unescorted with us by coach, tongues would wag and you would have to marry one of us."
"Twenty-three years and no one has ever offered for me, so it might be quite a novel experience. One I would have to turn down, of course."
She had to admit he looked quite dashing with his hair tumbled over his forehead. But the vee between his eyebrows was slightly unattractive.
"Your Grace, you're looking at me as though I've sprung a second head."
She didn't expect it when he reached out to move a lock of hair from her eyes. His fingertips lingered at her temple before he turned his hand and brushed her cheek with the back of it, his knuckles trailing all the way down to her chin. "If no one has offered for you in twenty-three years, the loss is certainly theirs, Miss Rutledge. Not yours."
She snorted. "The loss would be theirs, Your Grace. The lack of a dowry makes me a poor prospect for marriage." She shrugged. "But I am quite happy with Oliver, taking care of him."
"Speaking of that," the duke began. "We'll need to discuss his present living situation. I have decided that Oliver will come to live with me at Westfield Hall, at least for a short while."