“Not really, Babbit. I’m so sorry you were disturbed at such a dreadful hour.” She stepped into the galleried hall. It looked different in the daylight, the softness of gaslight yielding to bright sunlight from the windows on either side of the doors and the stained glass transom over them, the marble and gilded cornices, the grand sweep of the horseshoe staircase giving an overall impression of established grandeur.

“No trouble at all, Miss Rutherford. I’m afraid his lordship is not at home.”

“Actually I’ve come to see how Lord Aldershot is today. I understand the doctor doesn’t want him moved for a while.”

“That is so, ma’am. I’ll take you up to his room. If you’d follow me.”

Petra followed the man upstairs to the bedroom floor and into a large, sunny bedroom at the rear of the house, away from street noise. Charlie was in bed, slumped against a mound of pillows, his arm in a sling across his bandaged chest.

“Oh, Charlie, dearest, I’m so, so sorry,” Petra said, hurrying to the bedside. “I feel so guilty.”

“Good God, Petra, why would you feel guilty?” he asked, struggling higher on his pillows, giving her a wan smile.

“Well, if I hadn’t wanted to drive around a bit we wouldn’t have come into the square and that cat, if it was a cat, wouldn’t have frightened the horse and the carriage wouldn’t have tipped—”

“And I wouldn’t have fallen out,” Charlie finished for her with a gallant grin. “Fate, dear girl. It had nothing to do with you.”

“Can I bring you some refreshment, my lord?” Babbit asked, still standing in the doorway.

“Petra?” Charlie invited.

“Tea, please, Babbit. Is there anything else you’d like, Charlie?”

“Just tea.”

The butler withdrew and Petra set the box of pralines on the bed. “You probably don’t feel like these at the moment, but when you feel better . . .”

“My favorites, thank you.” Charlie reached for the box with his good arm and then subsided with a stifled groan. “I keep forgetting these damned ribs. According to the sawbones they’ll take months to knit back together again. I’m going to be stuck like this forever.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and took a deep breath, struggling again to pull himself higher on the pillows.

“Let me help.” Petra bent over him, trying to support him with one arm while pulling up the pillows with the other.

“Babbit said you were here, Petra.” Guy came into the room followed by a footman with a tray of tea. “Let me do that. You arrange the pillows.” He reached around her, hoisting Charlie higher with a swift deftness that caused the patient very little discomfort, while Petra plumped up the pillows and piled them behind him.