Duke of Disrepute (Dukes of Distinction #3) - Alexa Aston Page 0,26

past mid-afternoon and quite dark. Even if my blacksmith can help repair things, it’s too late for you to continue traveling. You can stay the night and then set out first thing tomorrow morning. Hopefully, the weather will be more cooperative by then.”

“Oh, Your Grace, that would be a godsend,” Mixon said, relief on his ruddy face.

“Here, I’ll go with you. We’ll take the carriage out to the main road and I’ll bring the ladies back to Treadwell Manor.”

Already, Pratt had Weston’s greatcoat in hand. The butler helped slip on the coat and handed him an umbrella.

“Thank you, Pratt. Come along, Mixon. We’ll see the blacksmith first and then head to the stables.”

Weston led the servant through the house and they exited a back door off the kitchen. They stopped at the blacksmith’s shed and Mixon described the problem.

“We never should have left in the vehicle,” the coachman confided. “It hasn’t been used in years, not since the recently deceased earl was a much younger man.”

“Then why did you set out on such a long journey in it?” Weston demanded.

Mixon looked sheepish. His eyes dropped to the floor. “I follow orders, Your Grace.”

He wondered why those orders had been given but didn’t want to put the servant in an awkward position.

“I’ll get what I need and load it in a wagon,” the blacksmith said cheerily.

“I’d be happy to help,” Mixon said. “And then I can ride with you.”

The three men parted. Weston headed to the stables and told John, his head groom, that he needed the carriage readied for a brief trip, explaining the stranded travelers he needed to collect and bring back to Treadwell Manor.

“Right away, Your Grace. I’ll drive you myself.”

Quickly, two other grooms appeared and the three men hitched the horses to the coach and Weston climbed inside. He recalled the Countess of Shelby, though not the earl. The countess was a handsome woman but acted half her age, flirting with both married and unmarried men of the ton. He hadn’t liked how aggressive she behaved toward him and had never pursued a night with her. The coachman had mentioned the old earl being deceased and Weston wondered when the man had passed away. As for the Dowager Countess of Ruthersby, no image came to mind. Since the woman was traveling with her daughter, however, he wondered about her. Would this daughter be of a suitable age? He’d told George and Sam that he dreaded hunting for a bride on the Marriage Mart next spring. What if his future wife now appeared upon his doorstep in need of help? Glancing out the carriage window at the pouring rain, Weston thought it a good thing that he was rescuing the pair. Just in case the daughter did prove to be eligible.

He knew Sam would berate him for thinking in such a manner. His sister and George were totally smitten with one another. She would want a love match for her brother. Weston was too smart to seek that again. Once, he’d imagined himself head over heels in love with Juniper Radwell. He had been taken in by her tremendous beauty and seductive ways, never knowing what evil was hidden beneath her surface. This time, love wouldn’t play a part of any decision regarding a wife. He wanted a woman with intelligence and depth. One who was kind and could carry on a decent conversation. A woman who could effortlessly host an event and also birth him a good number of children. He hoped they could become friends. That they would respect one another.

But love? It would have nothing to do with his marriage. He planned to guard his heart and never suffer the kind of pain he’d been through with his former fiancée.

His carriage came to a halt and Weston bounded out just as thunder sounded so loudly that it hurt his ears. Then he was almost blinded by a lightning strike. Blinking, he saw a huge tree light with fire, despite the heavy downpour. Suddenly, half of it toppled over.

And slammed into the center of the crippled carriage.

He ran toward it as the horses screamed, trying to fight their way from the massive, burning trunk. Something snapped and the horses galloped down the road, three still hitched together while another one dashed away into the woods.

“John! Help me!” he shouted over his shoulder and the groom scrambled down while Weston arrived at the damaged carriage. The tree had crushed the vehicle. He only hoped its occupants were