There was an awkward silence, and then Ellie, feeling that she ought to explain to him what had happened while he was unconscious, said, “About the whiskey…I suppose I must apologize, but I was just trying to—”

“Flambé me?”

“No, although the suggestion does have merit. I was trying to revive you. An alcoholic vinaigrette, if you will. You knocked the flask over when you sat up.”

“How is it that I feel as if I have been strung out on the rack, and you look completely unhurt?”

Ellie's mouth curved into a wry half-smile. “One would think that a chivalrous gentleman such as yourself would be pleased that his lady was uninjured.”

“I am ever chivalrous, my lady. I am also damned confused.”

“Evidently you're not chivalrous enough to abstain from cursing in my presence. However”—she waved her hand nonchalantly in the air—“it is lucky for you that I have never been overly fussy about such matters.”

He closed his eyes, wondering why it took her so many words to get to the point.

“I fell on you when I was thrown from the curricle,” she finally explained. “You must have sustained some injuries to your back when you fell, but any pain you are feeling in your…ah…front is probably due to…ah…me.” She blinked a few times, and then fell silent, her cheeks staining a rather fetching pink.

“I see.”

Ellie swallowed uncomfortably. “Would you like a hand up?”

“Yes, thank you.” He took her hand and hauled himself to a standing position, trying to ignore the myriad aches and pains that flared with every movement. When he reached his feet, he planted his hands on his hips and stretched his neck to the left. The joint made several cracking sounds, and Charles fought the urge to smile when Ellie winced.

“That doesn't sound very promising,” she offered.

He didn't reply, just stretched his neck in the opposite direction, finding some sort of perverse satisfaction in the second round of cracking noises. After a moment, his eyes fell upon the overturned curricle, and he swore under his breath. The wheel had come off and was now crushed beneath the body of the vehicle.

Ellie followed his line of vision and said, “Yes, I tried to tell you that the wheel was quite ruined, but I now realize that you were in far too much pain to listen.”

As Charles kneeled down to inspect the damage, she surprised him by adding, “I'm terribly sorry for walking away a few minutes ago. I didn't realize how hurt you were. If I had, I should never have left. I—I shouldn't have left regardless. It was very bad of me.”

Charles was touched by her heartfelt speech, and impressed with her sense of honor. “Your apology is unnecessary,” he said gruffly, “but appreciated and accepted nonetheless.”

Ellie inclined her head. “We did not travel very far from my home. It shouldn't be difficult to walk back and lead the horses. I am certain my father will be able to arrange transportation home for you. Or we can find a messenger to fetch a fresh carriage from Wycombe Abbey.”