“We were in a terrible accident.” Leorah scrambled off Lord Withinghall’s chest and got to her feet, keeping her hand on the side of the carriage to make sure she didn’t lose her balance again. She shook off the pair of Lord Withinghall’s trousers that had tangled around her ankles.
Oh dear. This did not look good. But surely her rector wouldn’t assume anything scandalous. Mr. Pinegar, on the other hand . . . Reputations had been ruined by a far less serious incident.
“What were the two of you doing in this carriage alone together late at night?” Mr. Pinegar’s eyebrows were raised so high, his eyes so wide, he resembled one of her father’s hounds when he scented a fox. His long face and pointy nose made him fit the picture even more.
“I’m afraid we were sleeping,” Leorah answered honestly, but she regretted her words as Mr. Moss’s mouth fell open.
“Oh dear,” he muttered.
“‘Oh dear’ is correct,” Mr. Pinegar said gravely. “I had no idea the two of you were engaged to be married.” He stared directly at where poor Lord Withinghall lay.
“You know very well that we are not engaged. Can’t you see we were involved in an accident? Our carriage overturned.” Lord Withinghall’s voice conveyed both agitation and insult, as if they were either imbeciles, blind, or both. “My coachman lies dead out there on the road, my leg is broken, Miss Langdon has a broken wrist, and she was unable to catch the horses and go for help before it started to rain and night fell.”
“There is no need to be discourteous, sir.” Mr. Moss looked a bit taken aback. Her gentle rector was obviously not accustomed to the rudeness of a lord like Withinghall, and furthermore, had no idea that he was addressing a viscount.
“What Lord Withinghall is trying to say is that our carriage overturned as we were on our way to Glyncove Abbey, and his poor coachman, Pugh, was killed. The horses have run off, the rain started, and the viscount is greatly in need of a good surgeon for his injured leg.” Leorah looked down at his leg and shook her head, clicking her tongue against her teeth to elicit sympathy in the two gentlemen and perhaps distract them from their thoughts about finding her and Lord Withinghall in such a compromising position.
“Oh, forgive me. I had no idea . . .” Of course, Mr. Moss was referring to the fact that he had no idea he had been addressing the Viscount Withinghall.
“We must go fetch a surgeon at once,” Mr. Moss declared, recovering his composure. “Miss Langdon can come in our carriage, and we will search out the surgeon, Mr. Quimby, and bring him here. I do not believe he would have us move Lord Withinghall.”
“I would be much obliged to you, Mr. . . .” Lord Withinghall waited to hear the man’s name.
“Lord Withinghall,” Mr. Pinegar said with great self-importance, “may I present Mr. Dunnagan Moss.”
Lord Withinghall acknowledged him by saying, “Mr. Moss.”
“Mr. Moss, the Viscount Withinghall of Grimswood Castle.”
“Lord Withinghall, I am honored to make your acquaintance.” He bowed rather awkwardly in the doorway of the overturned carriage.
“Let us make haste.” Leorah held out her hand so that Mr. Moss and Mr. Pinegar could help her out. “Poor Lord Withinghall’s discomfort must be extreme. One of you gentlemen will want to stay with him, I presume.”
“I shall stay with Lord Withinghall,” Mr. Pinegar said, “if you will take my carriage and fetch the surgeon.”
“That we shall certainly do,” Mr. Moss said.
Leorah hurried out into the rain, slipping on the muddy road, as she and Mr. Moss carried a second lantern to the carriage and hastened inside. Once the door had been closed and the carriage set out on its way, Mr. Moss turned to her, half his face bathed in the yellow lantern light, and said, “I very much fear, Miss Langdon, that you and Lord Withinghall, after being found together in that manner, shall be forced to wed.”
But he didn’t make the statement as if he actually did “fear” it. He said it as if he welcomed it and thought she would as well!
A slow dread began to seep into her chest, like a black fog. But she simply had to keep her temper, as well as her mental faculties, and set her rector straight on the subject.
“Mr. Moss, I very much fear that you entirely mistake the matter.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Entirely. There is absolutely nothing amiss about the way you found Lord Withinghall and myself.”
“How came you to be in his carriage at all?”
He would understand as soon as she explained. “You see, I was out riding my favorite horse, Buccaneer, and he threw me after a covey of pheasants startled him. Lord Withinghall and his coachman happened to be driving by on the road nearby and saw it. They stopped to ask if I needed assistance. It so happened that Bucky had thrown a shoe, so I was unable to ride him home, and besides that, it seems I had broken my wrist when I fell. Lord Withinghall, as any gentleman would have done”—even a rude, uptight one—“kindly allowed me to ride in his carriage, as he was going near Glyncove Abbey on his way home to Grimswood Castle. On the way, something must have gone wrong with the carriage, particularly the part harnessing it to the horses. The horses ran away while the carriage lost control and overturned, killing poor Pugh, the viscount’s coachman. And Lord Withinghall’s leg was broken in the crash, and also, he had a gash in his head, but I managed to stop the bleeding.”
Mr. Moss was looking more distressed than ever, his brows drawn low over his eyes.
“But the point is that we were in a terrible accident. Otherwise I would be home safe and dry with my mother at this moment, and Lord Withinghall would be well on his way to his home. So, you see, there was no impropriety at all in the situation, and I’m sure Lord Withinghall has no intention whatsoever of thinking any more of it than I do.”
His brows were still drawn together.
She added, “And neither should you. Or Mr. Pinegar.”
“Well, my dear, I’m sure if you say that there was no impropriety . . . but when we found you, you were lying on top of him. How do you explain that? And his clothing was scattered about the carriage?”
“Nothing could be more simple. You see, I had fallen asleep, as I told you before, while waiting for the rain to stop so I could go for help. And when I heard voices, I stood up to see who had come to save us when my foot became entangled, and I fell, right on top of Lord Withinghall, as ill luck would have it—although it would have been much worse luck had I fallen on his poor broken leg, don’t you think? And his clothing was scattered around because I went through his trunk to find something to place under his shoulders to make him more comfortable, and a blanket for me, since I had become wet when I went looking for the horses earlier.”
If the expressions on Mr. Moss’s face were any indication, her words were only inciting more suspicion, condemning rather than acquitting her of wrongdoing.