For once, Ellie was speechless.

He chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. "I think I just might do it."

That was enough to spur her into motion, and she jumped to the side, sending him sprawling to the ground once again.

"Good God, woman!" he yelled. "What did you do that for?"

"You were going to kiss me."

He rubbed his head, which had hit the tree trunk. "The prospect was that terrifying?"

Ellie blinked. "Not terrifying, exactly."

"Please don't say repulsive," he grumbled. "I really couldn't bear it."

She exhaled and held out a conciliatory hand. "I'm terribly sorry for dropping you, my lord."

"Once again, your face is a picture of sorrow."

Ellie fought the urge to stamp her foot. "I meant it this time. Do you accept my apology?"

"It appears," he said, raising his eyebrows, "that you might do me bodily harm if I do not."

"Ungracious prig," she muttered. "I am trying to apologize."

"And I," he said, "am trying to accept."

He reached out and took her gloved hand. She pulled him to his feet again, stepping out of his reach once he had steadied himself on his makeshift cane.

"I will escort you to Bellfield," Ellie said. "It isn't terribly far. Will you be able to get home from there?"

"I left my curricle at the Bee and Thistle," he replied.

She cleared her throat. "I would appreciate it if you would behave with gentility and discretion. I may be a spinster, but I do have a reputation to protect."

He sent a sideways glance in her direction. "I am considered something of a blackguard, I'm afraid."

"I know."

"Your reputation was probably shredded the moment I landed on top of you."

"For heavens' sake, you fell out of a tree!"

"Yes, of course, but you did put your bare hands on my bare ankle."

"It was for the noblest of reasons."

"Frankly, I thought kissing you seemed rather noble, but you appeared to disagree."

Her mouth settled into a grim line. "That is exactly the sort of flippant remark I am talking about. I know that I shouldn't, but I do care what people think of me, and I have to live here for the rest of my life."

"Do you?" he asked. "How sad."

"That isn't funny."

"It wasn't meant to be."

She sighed impatiently. "Contrive to behave yourself when we reach Bellfield. Please?"

He leaned on his stick and swept into a courtly bow. "I try never to disappoint a lady."

"Will you stop!" she said, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him upright. "You're going to knock yourself over."

"Why, Miss Lyndon, I do believe you are beginning to care for me."

Her answer was a marginally ladylike grunt. With fisted hands, she began to march toward town. Charles hobbled behind her, smiling all the way. She was walking much more quickly than he, however, and the space between them grew until he was forced to call out her name.

Ellie turned around.

Charles offered her what he hoped was an appealing smile. "I cannot keep up with you, I'm afraid." He held out his hands in a gesture of supplication and then promptly lost his balance. Ellie rushed forward to straighten him.

"You are a walking disaster," she muttered, keeping her hand on his elbow.

"A limping disaster," he corrected. "And I cannot—" He lifted his free hand to hir mouth to cover an inebriated burp. "I cannot limp quickly."

She sighed. "Here. You can lean on my shoulder. Together we should be able to get you into town."

Charles grinned and slid his arm over her shoulder. She was small, but she was a sturdy little thing, so he decided to test the waters by leaning on her a little more closely. She stiffened, then let out another loud sigh.

Slowly they moved toward town. Charles felt himself leaning on her more and more. Whether his incompetence was due to his sprain or his drunkenness he didn't know. She felt warm and strong and soft all at once next to him, and he didn't much care how he had gotten himself into this fix—he just resolved to enjoy it while it lasted. Each step pressed the side of her breast up against his ribs, and he was finding that to be a most pleasant sensation indeed.

"It's a beautiful day, don't you think?" he inquired, thinking he ought to make conversation.

"Yes," Ellie agreed, stumbling slightly under the weight of him. "But it is growing late. Is there no way you can move a little bit faster?"

"Even I," Charles said with an expansive wave of his hand, "am not such a cad that I would feign lameness merely to enjoy the attentions of a beautiful lady."

"Will you stop waving your arm about! We're losing our balance."

Charles wasn't sure why, and maybe it was just because he was still decidedly unsober, but he liked the sound of the word we from her lips. There was something about this Miss Lyndon that made him glad she was on his side. Not that he thought she would make a vicious enemy, just that she seemed loyal, levelheaded, and fair. And she had a wicked sense of humor. Just the sort of person a man would want standing beside him when he needed support.

He turned his face toward hers. "You smell nice," he said.

"What?" she screeched.

And she was fun to torture. Had he remembered to add that to his list of attributes? It was always good to surround oneself with people who could take a bit of teasing. He schooled his face into an innocent mask. "You smell nice," he said again.