Wildfire Kiss (12 page)

“She wants you Otto …” teased Babs.

“Blaaah … uck …” was the count’s
response.

“Translation being that Otto has formed a lasting
passion for the Haversham …” Charles said, bursting with
mirth.

Otto proceeded to go off in a convulsion that
created a havoc of indecent laughter amongst the little party, and
so their night progressed most agreeably for all. Poor Otto,
though, was teased without mercy until they all parted for the
night.

***

It was hours later when Babs, unable to sleep,
knocked on her cousin’s door and then without permission stuck her
head in. “Corry … Corry … are you awake?”

“I am now,” Corry answered dryly.

Babs rushed in and plopped herself down on the bed.
She pulled a throw quilt up to her chin and wrapped herself with
it, as the fire in the room had already burned too low to give any
comfort. “We didn’t have a chance to talk earlier …” Babs
stated as an explanation.

“True,” allowed Corry, who had now sat up and looked
as though she too wished to discuss the events of the evening.

“I want to know all about Sir Frederick.”

Corry shrugged in a manner that conveyed a certain
reluctance but caved in and said on a sigh, “How can I tell you
what I don’t know?”

“Don’t be provoking,” Babs admonished. “Tell me what
you do know, and we shall take it from there.”

“What precisely do you want to know?” Corry
sidestepped.

“What were you doing alone for so long … what
did he say to you … what did you say to him?” Babs was as ever
direct and went to the meat of things.

“We were just walking … conversation was just
about silly things …”

“Ah, so I see, you were walking and talking, how
very enlightening. Fine.” Babs shrugged. “Would you like to know
where I was, and whom I was with, and what I was doing?”

“I know what you were doing,” returned Corry with
disapproval. “You were attempting to conquer Lord Wildfire’s
heart.” She reached out and touched Babs’ hand. “You are getting in
too deep, and it won’t serve.”

“He kissed me … and what is more to the point,
I kissed him back.”

“Babs, you are not some backstreet wench. He quite
overstepped when he kissed you …”

“Not his fault—I wanted him to, and he wanted to
bolt, but I didn’t let him,
and I
kissed him. Corry, you
know how I feel about such things. These are modern times, and I
think all the rules were made by men for men, and I don’t agree
with them.”

Corry eyed her cousin for a moment and relented by
relaxing. “I know … but I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Too late. If he doesn’t love me back … I shall
be hurt, but … perhaps the fun of being with him … will
make up for it?” She eyed her cousin. “Do you like him … Sir
Frederick that is?”

“I don’t know …”

“He likes you a great deal,” Babs said
knowingly.

“Go to bed now, love … truly … time will
give us the answers, for we don’t have them tonight.”

“Very well then, off I go, but I still don’t think I
can sleep.” Babs sighed heavily. Her cousin was quite right. No
answers leapt up at her, only one great hope.

Eleven

AS IT HAPPENED, the very next morning was the day
they were scheduled to leave for Brighton.

Corry and Babs were given permission to ride behind
the Waverly coach, and both were in high spirits. Some of their
servants and most of their luggage would be conveyed by Lady Jane’s
carriage later that morning, and both Babs and her cousin were very
excited about the excursion.

Babs noticed Sir Edward as they passed Bond Street;
he had an odd expression on his face as he put up a hand to her
before turning on his heel and vanishing down the avenue. However,
she was too happy to be riding in the open air to give it any
further thought.

“I do not like riding sidesaddle,” complained Miss
Bretton. “I was young enough back in the States to avoid censure
when I rode astride.”

“Yes, and we are well on our way out of town …
so as soon as we hit the wooded stretch along the Brighton Road, we
can slip our legs over …”

“Ha … with no stirrup … I don’t think
so.”

“Hmmm, yes, not quite comfortable.” Babs sighed. “As
a rule I don’t ride sidesaddle. But in town and on the main
road … well, I can’t buck all of Papa’s rules. One must after
all, observe the proprieties,” she said, trying to keep a straight
face, but she lost control and went off into lively ripple of
laughter.

They went on in this chatty style as town slipped
away and woods began to line both sides of the road. Babs strained
to see a coach up ahead, for on the curve she rather thought she
saw the crest on the door. “Corry,” she said on a tease, “I rather
think you know the passenger in that coach up ahead …”

“Nonsense … how can you tell from here?” Corry
said as she strained to see who Babs was speaking about.

All at once Babs laughed and said gleefully, as she
pointed a ready finger (forgetting the proprieties once again),
“There, I told you I saw him. ’Tis Sir Frederick … I saw the
crest, and now I have seen his face when he looked out his open
window back at our coach—it is him!”

“No … oh Babs … I am so …
embarrassed … if it is Sir Frederick, it has nothing to do
with us …”

“Yes, it does. I made a point of telling him that we
were leaving for Brighton this morning … and oh … what a
coincidence … here is his coach on the Brighton Road?”

“Oh, oh dear …” Corry’s voice tingled with a
touch of excitement.

“My dearest pudding heart, one must make the effort,
or one will find one’s self married to one that one does not love
at all,” Babs teased unmercifully. “Now, do ride up with me …”
Babs turned to find her cousin slowing her horse, patting her
tawny-highlighted auburn curls, and adjusting her pretty blue top
hat. “Come on—do!” Babs laughed. “You look ravishing.”

Babs passed her father’s coach with a wave. He
smiled indulgently at her through his window, and she knew he had
no objection to her enjoying a ride as long as she stayed
nearby.

As she approached the coach, she saw the crest and
smiled. It certainly was Sir Frederick, and she turned to see that
her cousin was riding sedately towards her. She shook her head and
steadied her horse. It was at that moment that the coach made a
horrible creaking sound.

Suddenly the rear wheel was off and spinning towards
the woods flanking the road. In the next moment everything happened
so fast, Babs was only able to stare in horror!

The coach first leaned towards the ditch between the
road and the woods, then slammed backwards, and finally, with the
horses screeching in fear, went over onto its side and nearly
toppled all the way over into the ditch.

The horses were dragged when the coach slammed into
the earth but managed to remain standing and unharmed, and the
driver was able to save himself from a fall by hanging onto the
rigging. Babs heard him screaming, but it wasn’t anything
intelligible as he scrambled to right himself and make his way
towards his only passenger.

Babs was off her horse and pulling him along as she
ran to the overturned vehicle. She soothed and patted the coach
horses at their heads as the driver scrambled over the coach’s side
towards the only door available for his passenger’s escape.

“Steady, lads,” Babs said softly to the large dark
bay pair. Fortunately, they had quiet temperaments and took the
incident in stride.

“It won’t budge!” called the driver. “The door be
jammed …” He peered inside the carriage and called out, “Sir
Frederick … sir … be ye hurt?”

No answer came from within.

“Do you need to break the glass of the door? Will
that help?” Babs called.

“I’m not sure …” the driver exclaimed, greatly
agitated.

“Break it … just go ahead … maybe that
will jar it loose …”

“Oh … oh …” worried the driver, who began
pulling and pounding on the door. All at once, the door flung open
in his hand, nearly sending him flying backwards, and they saw Sir
Frederick’s leg as it fell limply out.

Both could see Sir Frederick’s crumpled body lying
on the floor of the coach.

By this time, Miss Bretton had arrived on the scene,
and she took command. First she tethered both hers and Babs’ horses
to a nearby tree, and then she gave the entire scene her scrutiny.
“Do not move him.” She pointed. “He has sustained a severe head
injury … see there?”

Babs could see the blood. There was so much blood
pouring out of his head. “Corry, we need something to stop the
bleeding!”

“Here comes your father’s coach now. Our driver can
aid Sir Frederick’s driver, and hopefully between the two we can
get Sir Frederick out without his sustaining any further
injury.”

Lady Babs chewed her bottom lip. “Indeed, and
then … we will need a place to take him, and a doctor. There
is an inn just a short distance from here. I shall ride there and
have them send for a doctor and prepare a room for Sir Frederick.”
She was already walking towards her horse.

“Wait … Babs … perhaps your father should
be the one to …”

But her cousin was already on her horse. “Tell
Father to bring him to the Red Lion, and we shall all meet up
there.” With that, she began trotting her horse down the road.

***

A great deal of road had been left behind when Babs
reached the Red Lion in less than ten minutes. The inn was quaintly
styled and brightly painted in red and white. It was landscaped
with trimmed bushes and potted flowers. The total effect was most
charming, and it was an inn Babs and her father often frequented in
the past when on their way to Brighton.

A young groom came to take Babs’ horse as she
dismounted, and she said sweetly as she dug into her pocket for a
coin, “Do walk him a bit before you water him, and thank you.” She
flipped him the coin and strode hurriedly towards the inn.

The innkeeper and his chubby wife knew her at once
and came forward to greet her. She hurriedly explained the
situation, requested a room be readied for Sir Frederick, and asked
where she might find a doctor.

“Oi’d send young Tom out there for the doctor, but
oi can’t spare him today, as that blasted Figley didn’t come
in …”

“That is fine. I will go for the doctor,” Babs
assured him.

“Right then, if ye cut through the west woods, it be
only a few minutes to his cottage. Ye can’t miss it … ye take
the west woods … here across the road … follow the bridle
path, and ye’ll see a narrow paved road called Halie Lane to the
left. Take it, and there is his cottage just down a bit from
there …”

“Thank you, Mr. Tibbs.” She smiled at both Mr. and
Mrs. Tibbs and hurried back towards the stable, where she found her
horse taking a long drink of water.

“Sorry, sweet boy,” she said softly, “we have
another short trip to make, and then you can rest.” Up on his back
and taking the innkeeper’s direction, she started out.

However, Babs found the bridle paths had not been
groomed in some time. Fallen trees and overgrown brush hindered her
progress as she was forced to weave her way through the thick of
it, jumping logs and sideswiping bushes, before she finally had the
neatly paved lane in sight.

She glanced through the trees and could just make
out a very fine cottage just down the road. She breathed a sigh of
relief as she urged her horse forward.

Her horse clambered quickly out of the dark woods,
as neither her horse nor Babs saw that a high-perched phaeton had
just rounded the bend in the road.

Babs’ horse spooked sharply to the left and nearly
into the ditch, bending far forward and then hopping back up. Babs,
not quite as secure in a sidesaddle, found herself holding on with
all her strength to keep from landing in the ditch. With little
dignity, she scrambled back into place in her saddle and saw
herself reseated. She blew the stray hair from her eyes, pushed at
the tangle that had come undone, and tried adjusting her top hat as
she attempted to compose herself.

With her heart beating wildly, Babs watched the
driver of the high-perched phaeton as he cursed softly before he
pulled his spirited pair of grays to a halt. He handed the reins to
his small tiger at the back of his vehicle with a clipped order to,
“Hold them steady, lad.” So saying, he jumped nimbly down from his
driving seat and strode towards her.

“What you need, minx, is a spanking!” said the
well-dressed, tall, and rakishly good-looking Duke of Barrington.
“You could have been hurt! What the devil do you mean riding your
horse out of the woods without care?” He seemed to get control of
his temper and said more quietly, “You should know better.”

Babs was dumbfounded to find her Wildfire on the
spot, but his rudeness and his insult transformed her embarrassment
into ire. Still, her cheeks burned. “I?
I should know
better
? What about you, rounding a curve at that speed? And
besides, what the deuce are you doing here?”

“What I am doing here is not the issue,” he returned
sharply. “What are you doing here … charging around the woods
unescorted when you should be on your way to Brighton with your
family?”

“What I do need not concern you, your grace.” Her
chin was up with her temper. She knew she must look a sight. Her
green riding jacket was torn at the sleeve, her hair was a mess,
her matching top hat was askew, and when she brushed her hair away
from her face her tan glove came away dirty … was her face
smudged as well?
Oh no
. What a way for him to see her!

He moved to her horse’s flanks. He took her waist in
his large hands, lifted her off her saddle, and set her on her
booted feet. She did not object. It would have proven useless. Nor
did she object when he smoothed away her black hair from her eyes
and wiped the dirt from her face with his handkerchief. However,
when he attempted to place her top hat correctly on her head, she
swiped his hand away, as it made her feel even more childish. “Stop
that,” she admonished and realized she sounded even more childish
than she felt.