his voice pitched high, like a girl’s. “Poor Godfrey’s in lo-o-o-ve.”
Boys and girls, all laughing then.
Ripley moved to Ashmont’s side, put his hand on Ashmont’s shoulder, and made a pretend sad face, saying, “But she doesn’t want you, Wills. How tragic.”
Blackwood said, “Unrequited love. I could weep for you, Wills, old man.”
Wills was the target now, even his friends mocking him. He turned as red as a boiled lobster. “Stow that!” he said.
“Maybe you could try getting down on your knees and begging her to love you,” Ripley said.
“Yes, do,” Ashmont said. “Down on your knees, Wills, and beg the lady’s favor and forgiveness.”
That was when Wills invited Ashmont to get on his knees and perform an act that wasn’t to be thought of, let alone mentioned in mixed company.
Ashmont remembered the burst of joy he’d felt then. He’d waited, and here was his reward. He’d said, “Yes? Would you like to try and make me?”
What a splendid fight that had been! Wills so much bigger, who thought he could make short work of puny Lord Selston—for Ashmont hadn’t finished growing yet.
He came back from the past to meet Morris’s puzzled gaze.
Ashmont touched the corner of his eye, where it was bruised. “Wills gave me a black eye that day, but that’s nothing to what I gave him. Don’t remember when I’ve had so much fun. Well worth the whipping afterward, courtesy Uncle Fred.”
There was a short silence, then, “Ashmont, she makes men cry,” Morris said. “Grown men. Seen it with my own eyes.”
“Don’t fret about me, lad,” Ashmont said. “I can look after myself.”
The storm broke then, finally. Having darkened to ebony, the elephant clouds dissolved into torrents that turned the world dark, outside and, until the lamps were lit, inside as well. The courtyard emptied.
For a time the two men simply watched the rain pound the cobblestones, sending up waterspouts that splashed against the windows. Ashmont caught a distant flash out of the corner of his eye. Shortly thereafter came the crack of thunder. Through the glass he could hear, though faintly, horses whinnying in alarm and dogs barking.
He remembered the ugly lout, a few days ago, in this same courtyard, raging about a dog he claimed Ripley had stolen. He’d said other things as well, and Ashmont had felt compelled to teach him some manners.
The black eye had happened afterward, but how was a question. Ashmont had done some drinking. Fallen down some stairs.
He frowned.
“Second thoughts, I hope,” Morris said.
Ashmont touched the bruise again, the one at the corner of his eye. Looking as he did, he wasn’t going to make much progress with a lady. He sniffed at his coat. Didn’t smell so pretty, either, as she’d pointed out.
“I need a bath and my clothes cleaned,” Ashmont said. “Can’t court properly in this state.”
Morris rolled his eyes.
“Didn’t bring a change of clothes,” Ashmont said. “Expected to be back in London by now.”
“You can be back in London in an hour or less, as soon as the rain lets up. I recommend it.”
“Doesn’t have the look of stopping anytime soon. Might as well get a room, and quickly. Nobody here’s going anywhere for a while.”
Nobody but the mail and stage, and maybe an express.
A waiter hurried in. “Begging Your Grace’s pardon,” he said, “but the lady’s gone out to get Mr. Greenslade.”
“In a rainstorm?”
“Didn’t want to send anybody else out in this weather. Her groom’s fever has worsened. My master and mistress tried, both of them, but nobody could stop her. They said to tell Your Grace.”
By the time Ashmont caught up with her, at Greenslade’s surgery, Miss Pomfret was drenched. She’d had sense enough to take an umbrella, but the wind had made short work of that. Her carriage dress was stuck to her undergarments and the giant sleeves had deflated a great deal, the wadding soaked through. She was obviously wet to the skin, which meant that her clothing weighed several times what it did normally.
A debate ensued, but she was too tired to put up much of a fight. At both Ashmont’s and the surgeon’s urging, they drove back to the inn in Greenslade’s hooded carriage.
Ashmont ordered a fire made up in one of the best bedrooms, and tried to get her to dry off there, but she wouldn’t cooperate.
“If he dies, I shall be there,” she said. “If he lives, I shall be there. I shall be with him throughout, whatever happens. I must. Greenslade seems a competent bonesetter, but I’ve had more