Rupert saw the dray the second he rounded the corner, and he desperately tried to guide his grays to one side. But the old farm horse took fright the second the phaeton came bowling past.

The huge horse neighed loudly, then took off in an awkward gallop, the overturned cart dragging behind, the distraught farmer chasing it. Rupert struggled to hold his own team under control.

Just as it seemed he’d succeeded, the farm horse turned sharply and the back of the dray cracked into the phaeton, splintering the rear wheel and sending the delicate carriage tumbling.

Anna remembered nothing but a huge blur and a sharp pain, and then she was lying in a ditch, her skirts over her face, Rupert’s colorful curses filling her ears. She closed her eyes, and blessed blackness swept her away.

Sometime later, the black receded and she struggled back to consciousness. Anna opened her eyes and found herself in the common room of an inn, Rupert hovering near, a bandage on his head spotted with blood. A relieved expression crossed his face. “Thank God! I was worried you would never wake up. Greyley would never forgive me.”

“Damn Greyley,” Anna muttered. How like Rupert to be worried about her only for the sake of saving his own skin, though she doubted Anthony would care. He was far too busy with his precious Charlotte to give any thought to her. To Anna’s horror, tears rose to her eyes and she had to fight a depressing need to gulp back a sob.

“Perhaps I should get the landlady,” Rupert said, backing away when he saw the tears, a wild expression in his eyes. “I daresay your head hurts and Mrs. Tuffins will know what to do.”

“I don’t want Mrs. Tuffins,” Anna said, gathering herself. She pressed a hand to her head and found that she possessed a bandage that matched Rupert’s in size. After touching it gingerly, she unwound it, wondering at the state of her hair. “I just want to get back to London.”

“We’ll get there,” he said grimly. “One way or another.”

It was that “another” that bothered her. She ran a tentative hand over her forehead, glad to find nothing more alarming than a knot the size of a walnut over one eye.

Heavens, but she must look a fright. Sighing at the thought, she pushed herself upright. Black spots swam before her eyes, but she grit her teeth and waited for them to subside.

“Maybe you need a glass of water? Or some ale. There’s some excellent brandy here, too. I think it must be smuggled because even Greyley doesn’t have stock like this—”

“Rupert,” Anna said through her teeth, “if you must prattle, could you please not mention Greyley?”

“Lud, you’re touchy, aren’t you? There’s no need to get in a snit,” Rupert said in a sulky tone.

Anna swallowed a retort. They were both in ill humor and right now all she wanted was a little quiet so that she could collect herself. But even as she sat on the old worn settee, her head against the high back, her eyes closed against the annoying throbbing behind her forehead, she was on the verge of a torrent of tears. It was as if all her emotions had gathered behind her eyes and were determined to leak out.