Garrett nodded. Nothing else seemed out of place, but Jane’s leg was surely hurt. Her ankle was already bruised and swelling. He leaned down and pressed his ear to her lips.

“She’s breathing,” he announced. A collective sigh went up among them.

He stroked her cheek. “Miss Lowndes.” He leaned closer. “Jane.” She looked so helpless and vulnerable. And so pretty without her glasses. Just like the night he’d kissed her. Her hair had come askew out of her topknot. He traced her cheekbone with his fingertips, heedless of what the others might think. Seeing her silent and helpless and hurt brought out a fierce protective streak in him. One he hadn’t known he possessed.

“Jane,” he whispered again. Her eyes fluttered open and regarded him with their usual dark, sparkling intelligence.

“Garrett?”

Something stirred deep in Garrett’s belly when she called him by his Christian name.

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied softly, pulling a bit of grass from her hair and tossing it aside.

She made as if to sit up but winced and lay back down.

“Stay still. Claringdon’s gone to fetch the doctor.”

Jane smiled and let her head rest in his lap again. “Upton?” she asked softly.

He bent to hear her. “Yes, Jane?”

Her voice was a croak. “Did I win?”

Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Later that afternoon, Jane sat propped up in bed with her foot on a pillow. She could boast a small lump on the back of her head, but it only hurt when she touched it. She also had a painful twist of her ankle, but the maids brought cold compresses to wrap it, and Lucy brought her hot buttered rum.

Jane stared at the bright white blur that was her stockinged foot. Without her spectacles, she couldn’t read. Regardless, resting comfortably in bed was much preferable to house party outings. The doctor had informed her she’d most likely be able to walk after a day or two, assuring her she could attend the wedding.

A knock sounded on her bedchamber door, and Jane stretched and yawned. It was high time for her afternoon nap. “Who is it?”

The door opened and shut and the dark blur of a man strode toward her. She gasped and pulled the covers to her neck. “Sir, who are you?”

Garrett’s laughter followed. “You don’t recognize me?”

It was Upton? What was he doing here? “I don’t have my spectacles,” she admitted sheepishly, “but you shouldn’t be in here. It’s shamelessly inappropriate.”