Why Lords Lose Their Hearts Read Online Free PDF Page B

immediately.”
    His face reflecting his anger, Dunthorp rose and retrieved his horse. Once he’d mounted he turned to Archer. “I’ll send the carriage as soon as I get there. Then I’ll ride to Harley Street myself. I have some familiarity with Dr. Johnson.”
    If he was hoping for effusive thanks, he was doomed to disappointment. Instead Archer gave him a sharp nod, and began chafing Perdita’s hands
    He heard Dunthorp leave and hoped that the man wouldn’t allow his pique to get in the way of Perdita’s health.

 
    Three
    The first sensation Perdita became aware of was pain. Her head hurt worse than the morning after she and Isabella had secretly drunk half a bottle of their father’s best brandy while still in the schoolroom. It had been the first and the last time she’d overindulged like that, and some part of her brain couldn’t make sense of the fact that she’d done it again after vowing so vociferously not to.
    But when she opened her eyes, it wasn’t to see Isabella—her eyes bloodshot from too much alcohol—leaning over her but a very worried Archer.
    “Thank God,” he said, closing his own blue eyes. “Thank God.”
    She opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a dry croak. “What … happened?” she asked before he brought a glass of water to her lips. She drank greedily, appreciating the smooth slide of the water over her parched throat.
    “What do you remember?” he asked, taking the glass from her hand and setting it aside. “The doctor wishes to know how much of your brain has been affected.”
    The mention of a doctor made Perdita mentally sit up. If a doctor had been called, she must have been very ill. “I don’t know,” she said, after thinking the matter over for a few moments. “The last thing I remember is going out for a ride with Dunthorp—and you, as well—but only leaving, not returning,” she said, remembering the events as if they’d taken place years ago. “Did we go riding?”
    His finely sculpted lips were tight. “Yes, that happened this morning. I insisted on accompanying you and Dunthorp because I was worried for your safety.”
    Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. “You were worried,” she said finally. “For my safety.”
    “Yes,” he said, his voice clipped. “I accompanied you, and it’s a good thing I did because we weren’t in the park for more than a few minutes before a masked rider came racing toward us and tried to unseat you.”
    She tried to remember, but the images simply were not there. But the aches in her back and on her bottom, as well as her foot, which she supposed had gotten caught in the stirrup, all told her that the mysterious man had succeeded. “How long have I been unconscious?” she asked, closing her eyes against the tears that threatened. She knew it was the situation that brought her emotions to the surface, but even so the weakness was lowering. Especially in front of Archer.
    “Only about a half hour,” he responded, taking her hand in his and squeezing it, as if he knew instinctively that she needed comfort. “The physician said there were no broken bones and that as long as you awoke within an hour or so you’d likely be well.”
    “Thank heaven for small favors,” she said, moving to shake her head, then stopping as she realized how much it would hurt. “What happened to the man who attacked me?”
    She knew before he spoke that the blackguard had gotten away. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “I was too focused on seeing that you were all right, and Dunthorp could not leave while you were as yet unconscious.”
    Something in the way he said those last words told Perdita that there was a story buried in his words. But she was too tired suddenly to worry about what Dunthorp had or hadn’t done. “So sleepy,” she said, hearing the fatigue in her voice as she spoke, but unable to control it.
    “Rest,” Archer said, his hand caressing her cheek in such a tender way that if she’d