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and weather were out of the way, nerves making his voice crack as it had not done in years.
    Crompton had beamed and refilled his glass. “You will suit admirably,” he agreed. “Annabelle is worthy of the highest in the land, but of course, you already know that. I trust you will care for her as she deserves..” And without giving the then Marquess of Medford time to respond, Crompton had immediately launched a discussion of settlements and plans that ended an hour later with signatures affixed to the marriage contract. Nicholas had been wildly in love with Annabelle, willing to offer anything that would make her happy.
    The duke’s head shook in despair over that callow youth. It had never occurred to him that he should speak with Annabelle before settling with her father. Nor had he questioned whether Crompton truly understood Annabelle’s needs. He had not even thought to include his solicitor in the discussion. In one bemused hour, he had placed his life and fortune in the hands of another.
    He shuddered, as he always did when he remembered that day. He had been intoxicated – with love for the most beautiful, vibrant girl in the world; with exhilaration over winning her hand; with impatience at the month’s delay before he could possess her; and with pride at stepping into the adult world and charting his own destiny. And so he had negotiated the settlements, set the wedding date, and sent the announcement to the papers before informing his family of his decision.
    That blunder had been his first lesson in the dark side of his position. He had long been accustomed to people fawning over him. After all, he was both wealthy and the heir to a dukedom. But his parents had protected him from the maliciously greedy. That was not a mistake he would ever make with his own heir. There had been others since then who thought to use him. He had become adept at spotting such pariahs. In fact, he had grown quite cynical in the ten years since Annabelle’s death. And he congratulated himself on it. A healthy dose of cynicism was necessary if he was to protect himself. One was never too young to learn that lesson. There was a good reason for limiting his contacts to people near his own station.
    He turned his horse aside to skirt a tract of oak and pollarded hornbeam, his leg protesting the movement. It throbbed painfully, blood seeping through his makeshift bandage. He wanted nothing more than to lie down for an hour or two, but he could not increase his pace. Posting to a trot was the last thing he needed.
    There would be no settlements signed on this visit. Once Lady Emily accepted his suit, he would set his solicitor to the task of negotiating an agreement. Thorne was a hard bargainer, by all accounts. It might take six months or more before they were in accord. The wedding would likely be scheduled for the end of the following Season. And that was fine with him. There was plenty—
    Lost in his reverie, Norwood had not heeded the sound of distant barking. A stag suddenly broke from the forest, startling his horse. Under normal circumstances, he would have controlled the beast with ease, but his injured thigh was unable to grip tightly enough to avert disaster. Time seemed suspended as he sailed slowly through the air – very like his fall from the Blue Boar into the ravine. If only he could twist his feet under him.... Pain exploded through his shoulder and everything went black.
    * * * *
    Amanda drove her gig along a narrow country lane, skirting the boundaries of Thornridge Court. Life had settled into a pleasant routine. Her cottage was comfortable. Several area families had hired her to teach their daughters. She was also much in demand as a healer, though she seldom accepted payment for that work. Between her allowance and her earnings, she needed no additional income.
    The area residents knew her well. She had often helped them in her youth, both as Granny’s assistant and as a lady of the manor looking out for her