Mistaken Kiss: A Humorous Traditional Regency Romance (My Notorious Aunt Book 2) by Kathleen Baldwin

Author:Kathleen Baldwin [Baldwin, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Regency Historical Romance, historical romance, Georgette Heyer, Traditional Regency Romance, Regency Romance
Publisher: Ink Lion Books
Published: 2014-03-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Jack Fell Down and Broke his Crown

ALEX STOOD BESIDE an enormous fireplace inside one of Lady Tricot’s spacious guest rooms attempting to dry his river-stained shirt. His cravat had been rinsed out by a servant and hung over the fender where it steamed from the heat of the fire, tainting the air with the smell of musty lake water and cooked cotton. His coat had been carried off by servants for a proper cleaning.

Wearing a dressing gown, Harry sat huddled by the fire gulping down his fourth snifter of brandy. “Could’ve been killed. Demmed lucky, that’s what. Even luckier you were there to pull me in. Could’ve been the end of me. Might’ve stuck my spoon in the wall.”

“Not a bit of it.” Alex pressed a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Given another yard or two, you’d have paddled out on your own. I’m certain of it.”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t know. Just have a look at Neddie. Might’ve been me.” He sloshed some of the brandy trying to set it on the side table. “If only I’d rowed closer to shore like he asked. All my fault.”

“An accident, Harry. No point in blaming yourself.”

Poor Harry, wide–eyed and still shaking like an old woman, remorse didn’t suit him. If he drank much more he would, most likely, end up as unconscious as Tournsby.

The waterlogged lord lay moaning softly in the luxurious snowy folds of a large four-poster bed. His pallor was a disconcerting shade of gray, and Alex didn’t like the look of the bruise swelling out like an apricot and turning an ugly raspberry hue.

Lady Tricot bustled into the room without a thought for any of the gentlemen’s state of dishabille. A small cavalcade of servants followed her like chicks trailing behind a giant mother quail. They fluffed Tournsby’s pillows, checked the temperature of his feet, straightened the bedclothes, and waited for instructions.

The hulking matron turned to Alex. “He may yet survive. I’ve sent for my physician. Most fortunate my daughter pulled him out when she did.” She clucked her tongue. “Dreadful business. Ought not be moved. We’ll attend to his needs until he recovers.”

Alex bowed his head. “Very gracious of you, my lady. Lord Tournsby will, undoubtedly, be most grateful.”

“Hhhm, yes. If he recovers.” She shook her head as if it were only a vague possibility. “Well, must return to my other guests.” Lady Tricot glanced skeptically back at the bed before abruptly exiting the room.

In the ensuing silence, Alex stretched out in an armchair in front of the blaze. He’d finally begun to relax when a young footman brought him a pair of folded notes.

“I was told to give you these, sir. Although, this one here is for the red-haired miss.” He nodded toward the hallway where Willa and Alfreda had been ushered to dry their gowns. “I can take it directly to her if you prefer. But her aunt said you would know how to advise the young lady.”

Alex frowned and took both of the missives.

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