Amy Lake by The Marquess Takes a Fall Read Free Book Online Page B

smile at Fiona, and attempting to kiss her hand.
      * * * *
    Now she and the doctor began to walk back to the house. “Why does he ride in that ridiculous gig?” Mrs. Marwick asked Dee.
    “I told you. The man cannot stay on a horse.”
    “He wanted to be introduced to Lord Ashdown,” she said. “I can’t imagine how he found out.”
    “Word like that gets around.”
“I won’t have him in the house.”
    “I’ll declare visitors off-limits.” Dee frowned. “Again.”
    “I wish he would just go away.”
     The doctor stopped, and turned to look at her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Was that all he wanted?” he asked.
    “Yes . . . I think so.”
    “No more marriage proposals?”
    She laughed. “Not today, it seems.” Fiona had tried to downplay Sir Irwin’s advances, but the baronet was so arrogant, or conceited, that he had bragged about his plans to marry the widow Marwick to his servants, who had promptly spread the word in Barley Mow.
    “I almost think you and I should wed,” said Dee. “Put an end to this nonsense.”
    She grinned. “I hardly believe such a sacrifice will be necessary. The man is a blowhard.”
    “Perhaps it could be a counterfeit marriage, like in one of those London novels that Mrs. Groundsell is so fond of reading.”
    “And we would secretly be engaged to two entirely different people.”
    “At least.”
    Dee left, after retrieving his hat and gloves from the cottage and, presumably, checking in on Lord Ashdown. Fiona went back to her garden, and the onions, hoping to see no more of the baronet for some time. The whole of the thing was most curious, because Fiona was as sensitive as any woman in these matters, and she would have bet the deed to Tern’s Rest that much as she disliked the man, Sir Irwin Ampthill had not a jot more affection for her.
     

Chapter 9: The Bath Chair
     
    The Bath chair arrived that afternoon, as Dee had promised. Lord Ashdown was carefully assisted into it, and a robe wrapped around his legs. He looked somehow more dashing sitting in that chair, thought Fiona, than most men did standing upright.
    She had never seen such a device before, although she had heard of them. The chair was woven of wicker, with two large wheels on either side and a small wheel in front, the whole of it supported by a metal frame. The small wheel in front could be turned with a tiller, which was either used to pull the contraption, or controlled by the person sitting down.
    Lord Ashdown could, in theory, be towed or pushed in the Bath chair; in practice, he preferred self-mobility, and was immediately able to propel himself through the cottage with his arms alone turning the large wheels. Going outside was more difficult, but Hobbs found several long planks of wood, and laid them over the kitchen steps, and his lordship was able to find his way out into the garden and, with an extra push from Madelaine, to return. The girl was fascinated with the chair from the start.
    One of the first things Lord Ashdown had done after waking was to inquire after the health of his horse, and his first trip outside was to the stables. He’d been assured that his mount was in excellent health, although none of them had chanced to mention that he was being called Bunny, considering especially that they now knew that the stallion’s true name was Achilles.
    He returned to the kitchen—Fiona stepped outside to give him a small push up Hobbs’ ramp—with a rather odd expression. She was reminded of someone who was both somewhat annoyed but at the same time trying not to laugh.
    “Your daughter,” said his lordship, “has seen fit to re-name my horse.”
    Mrs. Marwick bit her lip.
    “He now answers to ‘Bunny’.”
    “We didn’t know . . . of course, we didn’t know the animal’s correct name,” said Fiona.
    “Bunny. My stallion.”
    “Madelaine noticed that he was very fond of carrots . . .” Her words trailed off under Lord Ashdown’s stare, but she rallied.