Duke of Disrepute (Dukes of Distinction #3) - Alexa Aston Page 0,28

her feet, he carried her to his carriage and set her inside, leaping in and closing the door behind him. Moments later, the carriage started up.

“Mama, my foot hurts,” Claire said, clutching her doll.

Weston saw that John had stretched the girl’s legs across the seat. The mother went to her knees on the vehicle’s floor and smoothed her daughter’s hair.

“You’ll be fine,” she assured the young girl and winced.

“Mama, are you hurt?”

“A little.”

His hands captured her waist and brought her up to sit beside him on the opposite cushion. “Sit here. Claire’s leg needs to stay as straight as it can and she needs to keep her foot still. I’ll send for the doctor once we’re back at Treadwell Manor.”

“I’m not sure he’ll want to go out in this storm.”

“He’ll come,” Weston said with assurance, knowing everyone did their best in order to please a duke.

“Thank you,” she said softly, those violet eyes shining at him.

“I feel we’ve met,” he said. “Though I’m not sure where.”

“The satchel!” she cried, panic on her face. “Oh, we must go back.”

Weston rapped on the ceiling and the vehicle slowed and then stopped. He opened the door. “Did you get the satchel?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Grace,” John replied. “Got it right with me. Figured it was important.”

“Very good.” He closed the door. “John has it. You need not worry.”

He saw relief fill her. Her shoulders sagged. Without thinking, he placed his arm around her and pulled her close. He caught a faint floral scent. That and wet wool, which caused his nose to crinkle.

She squirmed against him and tried to pull away.

“You have had a bad scare, my lady. You and Claire both. I don’t want you to go into shock. Just be still.”

She quit struggling. He wanted to take her hand but that seemed too forward. Inexplicitly, he was drawn to her.

“Your man, Mixon, told us about your damaged carriage wheel. He and my blacksmith will see to it. He said . . . you are the Dowager Countess of Ruthersby?”

“Yes. I lost my husband two years ago,” she said quietly. “In a carriage accident.”

He wondered if she had been in that carriage with him. To live through that and then today and another carriage mishap would be unthinkable. He glanced at Claire and realized she was probably too young to remember her father.

“You and Claire will stay the night at Treadwell Manor. The doctor will see you both and we’ll make sure your carriage is mended. If it can’t be, I’ll transport you myself to your home.” He paused. “I do think we’ve met. Might you recall the occasion?” he asked, still drawn in by the unusual shade of her violet eyes.

“I do, Your Grace. You danced with me several years ago. It was my come-out. My first ball.” She swallowed. “My first dance.”

Weston remembered as if it were yesterday, all the years and scads of women falling away. She was the young woman whose mother had called her only tolerably pretty. He had thought his curvaceous dance partner very pretty and believed she would grow into quite a beauty. Her innocence had touched him and he’d decided to stay far away from her, even warning George off.

“My mother had warned me not to dance with you or . . . your friend.”

“I remember your mother not being very kind to you.”

“You recall that?” she asked, her surprise evident.

“I have an excellent memory, Lady Ruthersby.” He smiled. “And I am happy to make your acquaintance again.”

Chapter Ten

Though flustered, Elise hid it. The Duke of Disrepute’s carriage had arrived at his home. He helped her from the vehicle, handing her the satchel which his driver had passed along, and then carried Claire in himself, talking to her in a calm, reassuring manner.

“Pratt, send the carriage to Dr. Cherry. He’s to come at once.”

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

A woman hovered nearby and Elise thought she must be the housekeeper.

“Mrs. Digsby, we have guests,” the duke told her. “This is Lady Ruthersby and her lovely daughter, Lady Claire, who has injured her foot or ankle. Everyone is wet and cold and tired. Have hot water sent up for baths and rooms prepared.”

“One room will do for Claire and me,” she said quickly. “We share one at Briarcliff.”

“Is there a trunk, Your Grace?” asked Mrs. Digsby.

“We had one,” Elise said. “I don’t know if it survived the crash.”

“Pratt, have two footmen retrieve Lady Ruthersby’s trunk. We can see if any of the clothes are salvageable. Four horses escaped