“Then I daresay he told you all you need to know,” Petra said, yawning. “Go away, Joth. Can’t you see I’m only half dressed.”

Her brother belatedly took in her state of undress and backed out of the room, apologizing profusely as he did so. Petra sighed and slid into bed as Dottie held up the crisp white sheets. She sank into the feather mattress with a groan. “Thank you, Dottie. Go back to bed now. I’ll ring when I need you.” Her eyes had closed before Dottie could even offer the sleeping draft.

* * *

“Petra, dearest, what happened . . . are you all right? Oh, poor Charlie. It’s all over town.” Diana and Fenella came into Petra’s bedroom on a rush of words just before noon.

Petra, propped on a mound of pillows and sipping hot chocolate, greeted them with a faint smile. “What’s all over town, or, rather, how could it be all over town?”

“Serena Vernon,” Fenella informed her, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Charlie’s sister. You know how her tongue runs away with her.”

“Yes, apparently she told Lizzie Greenward, who told—”

“Spare me the gossip mongering,” Petra begged. “Do you at least know how Charlie is?”

Diana sat on the other side of the bed. “Apparently, Serena wanted to take him back to Eaton Square, but Guy wouldn’t let her until the doctor said it was safe to do so. She was very put out. So what happened exactly?”

Her friends listened to Petra’s unvarnished narrative without interruption. “How are you feeling?” Diana asked when Petra fell silent.

“Like hell, quite frankly,” Petra responded. “I ache as if I’ve been on the rack, and my knee’s swollen and bruised, and my elbow too, somehow. I must have fallen from the carriage harder than I realized. I was just so frightened for Charlie.” She leaned sideways to set down her chocolate cup. “I need to get up and go and see how he is. It was awful . . . so much blood and his arm at the most horrid angle.” She pushed aside the covers and swung her legs off the mattress. “Ouch.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Fenella asked.

“It’s most definitely not a good idea,” Guy Granville stated, coming into the room with Jonathan. He held a bunch of sweet-smelling freesias, laying them on the foot of the bed. “Your brother said you were holding court from your bed this morning so I came to give you an update on the patient.”

Petra shot an irritated look at her brother, who seemed not to notice. Dottie, who had been mending a tear in a flounce on one of Petra’s gowns, set aside her work and hurried to the bed. Hastily she helped Petra to get back under the covers, plumping the pillows at her back before draping a cashmere shawl discreetly over her shoulders.