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Nettlestone. Now he’s a rare one as well. And good with the cattle and those of an obstinate temperament. I can’t imagine how we found you first, for he’s a dab hand with the ribbons.” Temple sat back, his gaze directed at Cordell. “Now the real question is: Which one of them do you want to be found by? Mark my words, they are both determined to discover you, for Lamden has promised Diana’s hand to whichever one brings her back to London.”
    “He what?” Diana rocketed forward in her seat.
    “He promised your hand in marriage to the man who saved you from Cordell.” He spared a glance at the viscount. “No offense, sir.”
    “None taken,” the man muttered, his eyes now wavering like the Union Jack in a stiff breeze.
    Meanwhile, Diana’s mouth fell open in a wide, indignant O.
    Temple reached across and with one finger under her chin, pushed it closed. “You’ll have a mouth full of dust gaping like that.” Then he winked at her.
    She brushed his hand aside, and glanced over at Cordell to see if he was going to protest Temple’s taking such liberties.
    Cordell was too busy muttering to himself.
    Temple swore he heard the man say, “Hadn’t expected this.”
    Seeing his opportunity, he forged ahead. “Now, if I were you, my dear viscount, I think I would prefer to be found by Nettlestone than Penham.”
    “You would,” Diana said, her arms crossed over her chest.
    “Not for the reasons you might suspect, my lady. For you see, Penham is a crack shot. And when he challenges Cordell here, as any honorable man would do, he’ll shoot him dead. One shot, straight through the heart.”
    Temple drew a deep, wheezy breath, and then placed his hand dramatically over his chest.
    “Oh my goodness, no!” Mrs. Foston said, clutching her cane until her knuckles turned white. “Why, that’s horrible. Such a wretched, awful way to die. And so painful, from what I hear.”
    Cordell paled further.
    Diana’s gaze rolled upward as if beseeching the heavens, though Temple doubted she was saying a prayer for her intended’s life. “And what about Lord Nettlesome?” She finally asked in a tone that hinted that she really didn’t want to hear the answer.
    “Nettlestone,” Temple corrected.
    “Yes, yes,” she said. “You don’t think Nettlestone will challenge Lord Cordell to a duel?”
    “Of course he will,” Temple said. “And he’s a crack shot as well. But Nettlestone still has enough blunt to afford a nice headstone, a real bang up job of marble and such. Yes, the baron will see you credibly buried, Cordell, whereas Penham appeared rather hotheaded about the matter. Quite out of character for Lord Harry, but I fear he’s a man thwarted in love. Likely to shoot you like a dog and toss you into the ditch.” He punctuated his last sentence with a few more taps of his lorgnette.
    Like you deserve, you bastard , he thought.
    That was enough to send Cordell’s breakfast racing forth. He turned to his bride-to-be and proceeded to toss his accounts all over her gown.
    Temple drew back his immaculately polished boots. “Tsk, tsk,” he mused, tapping his lorgnette once again on Cordell’s shoulder. “I say, my good man, are you unwell?”
    Diana snatched the silver-framed eyeglass out of Temple’s hand and tossed it out the window.
    “Good riddance,” she said, before turning her attention to Cordell and her ruined gown.
    “Ah yes, true love,” Temple commented, as he knocked on the roof for Elton to stop the carriage.
    As it pulled to a halt, Cordell’s hand shot for the latch, flinging open the door and then falling face-first into the ditch. Without even trying to stand, he began retching anew.
    Temple sighed, and then extended his hand to Diana to help her out. “True love,” he mused again. “What was it you were saying about its course earlier, my lady? It seems for you it has hit a bit of a rough patch.”

Chapter 3
    T hey passed through three small villages before they came to