“Dying?” her father said. “Why do you keep blithering on about this dying nonsense?”
“Because I heard Dr. Albin tell you that there was nothing he could for me, that my heart was nearly gone.”
Lord Farleigh blinked. “You foolish girl, he said no such thing. Least not about you.”
“But I heard him,” she insisted, looking first to her father, then her mother. “I heard him say my case was hopeless. I was standing on the staircase and he was in the morning room with you both, explaining what he’d discovered.”
“Oh, dear. Oh, my,” her mother said. “Dr. Albin wasn’t discussing you, Hortensia.” She edged closer to the jail cell and lowered her voice. “He was discussing your father’s hunting bitch, the spotted one. Oh, what is her name?”
“Spotty?” Amanda offered.
Her mother smiled and nodded. “Yes, Spotty. You know how your father is. Thought it a waste of money when the doctor came down and said your condition was only just a malade imaginaire and nothing that a good Season in London wouldn’t cure. So since your father had gone to all the expense of having Dr. Albin up from London, he had the man examine Spotty.” She turned to Lady Finch and explained. “She’d been so listless all winter. The dog, that is. Dr. Albin listened to her heart and said she wouldn’t last through the summer.”
“Damn sad thing, if you ask me,” her father added. “Had to pay his outlandish fee, find out there was nothing wrong with Hortensia, and learn my best hunting bitch was a goner.”
“So I’m not dying?” Amanda asked.
“No, heavens not,” her mother said.
She turned around, her now perfectly good heart pounding in her chest. Would Jemmy still want her now that he knew she wasn’t dying? And worse yet, if he did want her, would he be willing to marry her as Hortensia? If only to make it legal and binding.
Her father began another blistering harangue about the expense of finding her, her ruined state, and how he wasn’t going to pay her fines to the magistrate.
“I’m not dying,” Amanda whispered to Jemmy, her parents forgotten, Lady Finch and Mr. Holmes just part of the background.
Much to her relief, he was grinning from ear to ear. “So I heard.”
“This means I have some time,” she told him.
“Enough to marry me?”
She nodded, tears filling her eyes. And with that, she went again into his arms and kissed the only man she’d ever loved.
Her father rattled the cell door and demanded their scandalous display be put to an end. But unfortunately for the viscount, Mr. Holmes had misplaced the keys.
With a huff, he washed his hands of his errant daughter, took his wife by the arm, and left Bramley Hollow, vowing to write Miss Emery the moment they returned to Farleigh Hall and demand Hortensia’s four years of tuition be returned in full.
After their carriage was long gone from the village, Mr. Holmes produced the missing keys, conveniently stowed in his coat pocket, and released his infamous prisoners.
With a little privacy, the pair found their clothes and made themselves decent. As decent as two young people in love could be, for it was all they could do not to look into each other’s eyes, or touch each other’s cheek.
Once they were dressed and stepped outside, Amanda immediately went to the baroness. “I am so sorry to have ruined your ball, my lady.”
“Nonsense, child,” Lady Finch declared, winding an arm around her shoulder and giving her a hug. “It was a spectacular success. Not only will your abrupt departure and arrest be the most oftrepeated tale for years to come, I believe there were three matches made last night.” She glanced over at her son and at her soon-to-be daughter-in-law and laughed. “Make that four.”
Epilogue
Amanda Reyburn tripped up the front stairs of the Brighton inn, having spent the early morning walking along the shore. As she passed through the common room, the innkeeper tipped his hat to her and pressed a packet of letters into her hands.
“Is my husband awake?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” he said.
She grinned and dashed up the stairs to their room.
As promised, Jemmy had married her the very afternoon Holmes had released them from the Bramley Hollow prison, and without a moment’s delay had tossed her into his long unused curricle and carried her off to Brighton for their honeymoon.
A month later, they were still encamped at the lovely little inn by the shore, spending their days walking beside the waves and exploring the shops in town, and their nights…well, th