“You will,” she retorted.

“You will, too. Trust me.”

“Trust you? Ha! That may have worked with your simpleminded London misses who care for naught but the color of their ribbons, but I am made of sterner—and smarter—stuff.”

“I know,” he replied. “That's why I'm marrying you.”

“Are you saying that I have proven my superior intelligence by my ability to withstand your charms?” Ellie began to chuckle. “How marvelous. The only woman smart enough to be your countess is the one who can see through your superficial rakish veneer.”

“Something like that,” Charles mumbled, not at all liking the way she had twisted his words but unable to figure out how to twist them back to his advantage.

By now Ellie was laughing in earnest, and he was not amused. “Stop that,” he commanded. “Stop it right now.”

“Oh, I couldn't,” she said, gasping for breath. “I couldn't possibly.”

“Eleanor, I will tell you one last time…”

She turned to reply, her eyes passing over the road on the way to his face. “But—Good God! Watch the road!”

“I am watching the—”

Whatever else he'd meant to say was lost as the curricle hit a particularly large rut, bounced to the side, and tossed both its passengers to the ground.

Chapter 5

Charles grunted as he hit the ground, feeling the jolt in every bone, every muscle, every damned hair on his body.

Half a second later Ellie landed on top of him, feeling for all the world like an immense sack of potatoes with very good aim.

Charles closed his eyes, wondering if he would ever be able to sire children, wondering if he'd ever again even want to try.

“Ow!” she let out, rubbing her shoulder.

He would have liked to respond, preferably with something sarcastic, but he couldn't speak. His ribs hurt so much that he was certain every last one of them would shatter if he so much as tried to use his voice. After what seemed like an eternity, she rolled off of him, her pointy little elbow finding the tender spot below his left kidney.

“I cannot believe you didn't see that rut,” Ellie said, managing to look supercilious even as she sat in the dirt.

Charles thought about strangling her. He thought about getting her fitted for a muzzle. He even thought about kissing her just to wipe that annoying expression off of her face, but in the end he just laid there, trying to find his breath.

“Even I could have driven the curricle with greater skill,” she continued, rising to her feet and brushing off her skirts. “I hope you haven't damaged the wheel. They're terribly expensive to replace, and Bellfield's wheelwright is drunk more often than not. You could travel to Faversham, of course, but I wouldn't recommend—”

Charles let out an agonized groan, although he wasn't quite sure what was paining him most: his ribs, his head, or her lecture.

Ellie crouched back down, concern growing on her face. “I say, you're not hurt, are you?”