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“Good thing it’s not Christian, then.”

He stepped closer, slipped an arm around her waist, and lifted her from the carriage. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her body against his, clinging to him.

She was warm despite the freezing rain, and his body couldn’t help but react to the closeness. The scent of jasmine mixed with the fresh scent of rain created a heady, almost intoxicating allure.

He set her safely on the cobblestones, hesitating for a moment before releasing her from his grasp.

“Thank you,” she said, her warm breath hitting his cheek. Her smile quickly turned to concern—and then alarm—as she turned away. She picked up her wet skirts and ran toward the horses. “Mr. Rodgers!”

Gideon followed her. Only after rounding the carriage did he notice an older man lying on the ground, a deep gash in his leg, bleeding freely.

Leila bravely attempted to help the coachman stand, but he proved too heavy for her.

Gideon crouched over him. “Are you hurt anywhere other than your leg?”

Mr. Rodgers shook his head weakly.

“What the devil happened here?” Gideon asked, leaning closer to inspect the injury.

“We were attacked,” the coachman replied.

“Attacked?” Leila’s voice was filled with panic. It seemed even she hadn’t known what had occurred before the carriage ended up on its side.

“Yes. They had canes and knives, but luckily, no guns. I turned a gun on them, and they ran off—but not before managing to overturn the carriage.”

Gideon stood abruptly and scanned the surroundings. His instincts hadn’t failed him. Someone hadbeen watching him when he left the house. Or rather, someone had been observing the entire scene. He didn’t feel an eerie sensation now. Perhaps the attackers had left, but he couldn’t be certain.

Leila stood beside him, her arms wrapped around her stomach, looking miserable and disturbed. Gideon took off his hat and placed it on her head.

“Hold on to that. You”—he turned to the footman—“help me get the coachman up. We need to get inside. Now.”

Gideon hoisted the coachman’s arm over the footman’s shoulders, steadying him before reaching for Leila.

“Stay close to me,” he said, his grip firm around her arm.

With the injured coachman supported between them, the four of them hurried through the rain toward the house.

The butler held the door open for them as they rushed inside.

“Hobbes,” Gideon called once they entered. “It seems you’ll have to wake Mrs. Hill after all. We’re having guests tonight. And call for a physician.”

Leila scrubbed her wet hair away from her face, water dripping from her fingers. “No need. His wound doesn’t seem very deep. I can take care of it on my own, as long as you have the supplies.”

Gideon raised a brow.

“I come from a family of healers; trust me. I can help Mr. Rodgers better than any English physician. Besides, it will take them hours to get here in the rain.”

While Gideon couldn’t assess the seriousness of Mr. Rodgers’ wound, he knew she was right regarding the time it would take for a doctor to arrive. In heavy rain like this, it would take over an hour just to send a footman to fetch one.

“Fine,” Gideon said as the housekeeper appeared in the hall, her breath labored, her apron askew. “Mrs. Hill, please prepare a room for our injured guest and give Lady Leila anything she needs to treat him. Then arrange rooms for the footman and the lady. We are having guests tonight.”

Leila looked up at him with relief. “That is very generous of you to keep us overnight. I wouldn’t wish to be traveling in this rain again tonight.”

Not in this rain. Not when somebody is after you.

“It is my pleasure.”

Two of Gideon’s footmen appeared, flanking the injured coachman as they followed Mrs. Hill—her apron now straightened, her composure restored.