Two Lady Scoundrels and a Duke - Tessa Candle Page 0,4

of straw.

Katherine gasped and stepped back as though she had been slapped. Marie?

He thought she was his ruddy witch of a mistress? The woman who intentionally ruined her happiness by telling Katherine of their affair, of the child they conceived? The insult was grave, but even worse was the fresh stab to her heart.

He did not intend to demean Katherine; he simply did not see her. All he could conjure in his brain was Marie. Even in his wounded state, he was utterly preoccupied with the homewrecker who broke up their engagement. Well, truthfully it was Katherine who had ended it. But what choice did she have?

“Would Marie have dragged your dying carcass out of the snow bank and brought you home? She would not. She’d have lifted your purse and left you to die—which is what I should have done, you ruddy faithless cur.”

But he heard none of it. He was in a dead faint. She shook herself and straightened her spine. It was just as well that he did not hear her, for she wanted no witness to that humiliating outburst. A wet nose nuzzled her hand, and she reached down to pet Dog. She stood corrected: no witness except Dog. He would never judge her.

But she needed to get her wits about her and conjure as much decorum as she could. There would be enough mortification to glean from being found in her present circumstances, without adding to it by making a cake of herself over her blasted prospects and her maudlin heart. If his love for another hurt her, she must never let it show. Better still would be to stop caring.

Foxleigh stirred slightly, and she released a breath she did not know she was holding. At least he was still moving. That was some comfort. Infidel though he be, he could not die. He must not. Her life was miserable enough, but that would be unbearable. She drew closer to listen to his breathing. It was regular, but why did the blasted man have to smell so positively delicious—like bergamot orange, leather and chocolate?

Her stomach growled. She was hungry enough, but now there was a third mouth to feed—if he ever awoke. She went to inspect the bowl she had left down for Dog. Ever the gentleman, he had eaten only half of its contents.

She chuckled and bent down to embrace Dog again and rub his belly. “Good lad! Did you leave this for me? You are a darling!” Dog gave her a stoic look, then lolled his tongue out in a broad grin. She really did have the best dog in the world. They might both starve for it, but she had a bit of porridge she could mix with water to make gruel for the patient. He would never know it came from the dog’s portion—though she almost wished she could tell him. And she still had wild chamomile for tea. That was good for invalids. They might make shift for the first day, at least.

She snorted at the ridiculousness of her situation. “I am sorry, Dog. He does not deserve your portion, or mine. He may be a duke, but you are nobler by far!”

Chapter 6 Confrontation

When Foxleigh opened his eyes, his vision was blurry. His head hurt something fierce, and he was parched.

“Oh Lord,” he moaned. His limited sight showed he lay in a pile of straw in the middle of a room with a low fire. Something licked his hand, and he started, the sudden movement sending a bolt of pain through his head. Foxleigh groaned again, but turned to meet the soulful brown eyes of a dog—probably a bloodhound. He patted him on the head idly. Where the ruddy hell was he?

“Did you bring me here yourself, old boy, or is there someone else I have to thank?” The dog only smiled and panted in reply.

He remembered there had been a woman the night before, or had that been a dream? He thought it was Marie at the time, but looking at this place, he knew that was impossible. Marie would never suffer herself to be found dead in such a place, let alone spend a single night there.

The cottage door opened and a woman walked in, shaking the snow off of her cloak before hanging it on a peg by the door.

He could not see much at that distance, but he could make out her dark hair. He had thought it chestnut last night, like Marie’s, but could