Emma craned her neck to watch an adorable little boy of about five or six years scamper out of an elegant carriage drawn by a pair of matched bays. He clutched a small cocker spaniel puppy, scratching it between its ears. The black and white puppy returned his affection by licking the boy across the face, and he squealed with laughter, prompting his mother to poke her head out of the carriage to check up on him. She was a beautiful woman with dark hair and green eyes that shone with obvious love for her son. “Don’t you move from that spot, Charlie,” she called to the boy. “I’ll be with you in one moment.”

The woman turned back toward the interior of the carriage, presumably to speak to someone. The little dark-haired boy rolled his eyes and shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for his mother. “Mama,” he implored, “hurry up.” Emma smiled at his obvious impatience. From what her father had told her, she’d been exactly the same way when she was small.

“Just one minute, scamp. I’ll be right down.”

But right then, a calico cat streaked across the street. The puppy suddenly let out a loud bark and jumped out of Charlie’s arms, chasing the feline into the street.

“Wellington!” Charlie shrieked. The little boy broke into a run, following the dog.

Emma gasped in horror. A hired hack was barreling down the street, and the driver was completely engrossed in conversation with the man sitting next to him, not paying the least bit of attention to the road. Charlie would be trampled underneath the horses’ hooves.

Emma screamed. She didn’t stop to think as she dropped the eggs and raced into the street. When she was but a few feet away from the boy, she made a headfirst dive through the air. If she had enough momentum, she prayed, she’d knock them both out of the way before they were run over by the hack.

Charlie yelped, not understanding why a strange woman had jumped at him, slamming herself into his side.

Just before Emma hit the ground, she heard more screams.

And then there was only darkness.

Chapter 2

Emma heard voices before she opened her eyes.

“Oh, Alex!” a female voice wailed. “What if that maid hadn’t been here? Charlie would have been trampled! I’m a terrible mother. I should have been watching him more closely. I should never have let him get out of the carriage before I did. We should just stay in the country where he won’t get into so much trouble.”

“Now, Sophie,” a masculine voice said firmly. “You are not a terrible mother. You must, however, stop your screeching before you terrify this poor girl.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Sophie agreed. But in a few moments she was sobbing again. “I cannot believe this has happened. If Charlie had been hurt, I don’t know what I would do. I would just die. I would. I would just wither up and die.”

The man sighed. “Sophie, please calm yourself. Do you hear me? Charlie is fine. There is barely a scratch on his body. We just have to realize that he’s growing up, and we need to keep a closer eye on him.”

Emma moaned softly. She knew she should let these people know that she’d regained consciousness, but in all honesty, her eyelids felt so terribly heavy, and her head was pounding uncontrollably.

“Is she coming around?” Sophie queried. “Oh, Alex, I shan’t know how to thank her. What a brave maid. Perhaps I should hire her. Maybe the people she works for now don’t treat her nicely. It would just break my heart if she’s mistreated.”

Alexander Edward Ridgely, the Duke of Ashbourne, sighed. His sister Sophie had always been something of a chatterbox, but she did seem to prattle on even more than usual when she was nervous or upset.

Just then Charlie spoke up. “What’s the matter, Mama? Why are you crying?”

Charlie’s voice only served to make Sophie cry even harder. “Oh, my baby,” she wailed, clutching the boy to her chest. She took his face between her hands and started covering it with loud kisses.

“Mama! Stop that! You’re getting me all wet!” Charlie attempted to wriggle out of his mother’s grasp, but she grabbed him closer until he hissed, “Mama, Uncle Alex is going to think I’m a sissy!”

Alex chuckled. “Never that, Charlie. Didn’t I promise to teach you how to play whist? You know I don’t play cards with sissies.”

Charlie nodded vigorously as his mother let go of him rather suddenly. “You’re teaching my son how to play whist?” she demanded between her loud sniffles. “Really, Alex, he’s only six years old!”

“Never too young to learn the way I see it. Right, Charlie?”

Charlie broke into a wide toothless grin.

Sophie sighed loudly, despairing of ever keeping a firm feminine hand on her brother and son. “You two are both scoundrels. Scoundrels, I say.”

Alex chuckled. “We are, of course, related.”

“I know, I know. More’s the pity. But enough about cards. We must attend to this poor girl. Do you think she will be all right?”

Alex picked up Emma’s hand and felt for the pulse on her wrist. It was strong and steady. “She’ll be fine, I imagine.”

“Thank goodness.”

“She’ll have a hell of a headache tomorrow, though.”

“Alex, such language!”

“Sophie, stop trying to play the prig. It doesn’t suit you.”

Sophie smiled weakly. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. But it does seem as if I ought to say something when you curse.”

“If you feel you absolutely must say something, why don’t you simply curse back?”