Page 133 of An Inconvenient Vow

“All is not well with me!” Sabina pointed out with alacrity. “That is what I am attempting to tell you.”

“No, I mean…” He broke off. “Oh, very well then.” He flung himself down in a seat. “Tell me.”

It was only at this point that Sabina noticed he looked bone-weary. Her conscience smote her at once. “What time did you set out this morning?” she asked with sudden concern.

When he did not answer, she knew immediately it must have been ridiculously early. “Oh Jeffree, no wonder you are dog-tired!” She hurried to his side and dropped down to her knees to start pulling off his boots.

“Osborn can do that!” he said sharply. “You are not my servant.”

“I know that,” she answered patiently, “but doubtless Osborn is occupied stabling your horse.” He did not argue with that, most likely because he could not. She tugged and pulled at his boots until she had removed them both. Then she fell back onto her haunches, gazing up at him. “Are you well?” she demanded without preamble.

A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “I am,” he replied. “Come up here.” He patted the arm of his seat. Instead, Sabina promptly dropped into his lap. His arms closed about her at once. “Give me the greeting I want,” he demanded with his customary arrogance.

Sabina rolled her eyes but leaned forward and kissed his cheek all the same. When he growled, she gave a huff of exasperated laughter before pressing her lips boldly to his. Jeffree’s hand immediately closed about the nape of her neck, holding her where she was as he molded his lips to hers.

A banging on one of the doors made them both freeze and reluctantly part. “That is surely the outside door…” Sabina muttered distractedly, rising from the seat and batting away her husband’s hands at her waist.

“Let one of the Lancers get it,” he grumbled.

“I can hear Penny now,” Sabina admitted, biting her lip. She could also hear another voice upraised in anger. Oh gods. It was Sir Charles.

The door flung open and Sir Charles Ellis stood there, pale and quivering with rage, an apologetic Penny hovering close by, wringing her hands.

“Right sorry, I am milady, but I could not—”

“Ah, you are home this time I find, madam, and your husband also,” Sir Charles said, pushing rudely past the bewildered servant.

Sabina was spared from answering this as Jeffree had appeared suddenly beside her, looking reassuringly tall and solid despite his stockinged feet.

Sir Charles regarded her with hard, angry eyes. “I see you have not sent him forthwith to Ganford Chase as you promised!” he practically hissed.

Sabina had scarcely opened her mouth before Jeffree replied, “I am just this moment arrived and would not let my wife speak one word of news to me before now.”

Sir Charles cast a quick glance over Jeffree’s travel-worn clothes and, accepting this to be truth, clenched his mouth shut tight, giving a nod of his head.

“Now apologize,” Jeffree said harshly.

“I fully intended—” Sabina began before he silenced her with a pointed look.

“Not you—him.”

Sir Charles made a startled noise in his throat. Seeing Jeffree’s expression, his own reformed into its habitual icy hauteur. “It was not my intention to cause offense,” he rasped. “I trust you will allow that my current circumstances are enough to try the patience of any mere mortal.”

“There have been developments, then?” Jeffree interrupted him, sending a quick keen glance between Sir Charles and Sabina.

Sabina felt her face grow very hot. She reached out a hand to pluck Jeffree’s sleeve. “Could I—?”

“I must speak with you alone.” Sir Charles’s words cut across her own, pre-empting her. His breathing was ragged and the color in his hollowed cheeks, hectic. “There has been—such duplicity,” he gasped. “Wicked treachery afoot—” He staggered and Jeffree was forced to grab a firm hold of him.

“Good gods, what ails you, Charles?” Jeffree demanded in bewilderment, half hauling his godfather further into the room.

To Sabina’s eye, it almost looked like the older man had gone off in a faint. “I will fetch some brandy-wine,” she called, running toward the pantry.

By the time she had fetched it, Sir Charles was slumped in a seat before the fire, half swooning with Jeffree loosening the clothing at his neck. His eyes met hers briefly above the older man’s gray head. “He’s gone off in a faint,” he muttered. “Probably been pushing himself too hard. He’s usually on some fast or other and rarely ever eats a square meal.”

Sabina nodded, sloshed the brandy-wine into a goblet with hands that shook and passed it to Jeffree. He hesitated a moment, and instead of administering it, he set it down on a small table. “Tell me quickly,” he said.

She did not need to ask to what he was referring. “Isemay found Sir Leland in the forest two days after our wedding, insensible. He was badly beaten and she feared close to death. She managed to get him to a nearby abandoned cottage with the help of an old family servant who was sworn to secrecy. Between them, they nursed him there. His memory was gone and Isemay...” She hesitated, licking her suddenly dry lips, throwing a look of appeal at Jeffree.