Almost Perfect by Denise Domning

Author:Denise Domning
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-02-05T13:00:00+00:00

Lucien dismounted and started for the fallen coach. Such an accident wasn’t uncommon for such heavy vehicles on Scotland’s uncertain and rudimentary roads.

From his perch atop his own rawboned mount, Lucien’s gamekeeper surveyed the toppled, horseless coach. In all truth Jamie was more the doer of odd jobs and errands at Lucien’s lodge, as well as husband to its housekeeper, than either the lodge’s caretaker or gamekeeper. However, Jamie, enjoyed his title and lived up to it in his dress: a short-crowned hat, decorated with a buckle that he must have gotten from his grandfather, a serviceable brown coat, patched waistcoat, leather knee breeches, thick stockings and heavy boots.

“Ye shouldna waste yer time, m’lord. The coach horses are gone. No doubt they’ve ridden on, na wanting to meet you,” Jamie said, speaking with none of the servility that should have been employed when addressing one of England’s peers.

Jamie’s familiarity toward Lucien had evolved over the previous summer when he played the role of Lucien’s drinking companion and story teller. For that summer Jamie and Maggie had been the only servants Lucien kept at the lodge, having left Hastings to his own devices at Graceton Castle.

“It’s my time to waste,” Lucien replied to Jamie, toeing one of the trunks that lay on the road.

What clue to Cassie’s trick had he, Percy and Egremont all missed last night? It had to be something obvious. Not only were the Conningsbys fleeing like the devil was on their tail, their haste was so urgent that they left their possessions behind as they went.

He stepped at the coach’s side, glanced inside then froze. Cassie sprawled in a lifeless heap at the bottom of the vehicle. The hem of her lavender pelisse was filthy with mud, her golden hair, torn from its usual careful confinement, was in wild disarray.

“Jamie,” he shouted and leapt up onto the side of the coach.

Tossing aside his hat, Lucien lowered himself through the window and dropped to a crouch beside Cassie. The coach rocked a little in reaction to his landing. Mud oozed into the interior, touching Cassie’s hand. Her fingers moved. Her eyelids flickered.

Relief tore through him. She wasn’t dead, only unconscious. He slaughtered his relief. He’d indulge in no pity for a cheat, not even a beautiful, injured one.

Jamie leaned into the window above Lucien. Pity cut creases into his lean cheeks and gleamed in his bright blue eyes beneath the dark fringe of his hair. “Ach, the poor wee creature. They left her here, hurt and alone.”

“She wasn’t alone for long, was she?” Lucien retorted, torn between agreeing with Jamie--what sort of man left his unconscious daughter alone on the road?--and the certainty that the Conningsbys had known someone followed them. Both Lucien and Jamie had seen Sir Roland look back at them not long ago. A cheat wouldn’t hesitate to use anyone she found to achieve her sordid ends, whatever they might be.

Cassie groaned, tried to move then gasped, stiffening as if in pain. Her eyes opened, their usual golden-brown color so dark they appeared almost black.

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