Free And Then She Fell (Cynster 19 Cynster Sisters Duo #1) by Stephanie Laurens

home.”
    He shook his head, smiled faintly. “I’m only in George Street—the walk will clear my head.”
    She hesitated, but then nodded. “Very well. What have we organized for tomorrow . . . oh, I remember. Lady Jersey’s alfresco luncheon. If we leave here at eleven we should make it in good time.”
    He frowned. “Are you sure you’ll be well enough?”
    “Of course.” She looked faintly offended. “Falling into the stream was a shock, but I’ll be entirely recovered by tomorrow.”
    He raised his brows, but capitulated. “If you’re sure.”
    “I am—and we can’t afford to dally in assembling your short list. We really should try to have the best candidate selected by the end of this week.” She inclined her head in farewell. “Good night. And . . .” Holding his gaze, she paused, then softly said, “Thank you.” Turning away, she opened the door.
    He watched her go inside, raised a hand in salute when she glanced back as the door swung shut. When the latch clicked into place, he turned around and went down the steps. Waving off the coachman, telling him he’d elected to walk, James wriggled his shoulders, settling the not-so-well-fitting coat, then set off for George Street, striding briskly along.
    He wasn’t cold, yet he still felt chilled inside; the shock of nearly—so very nearly—losing Henrietta wasn’t going to fade anytime soon. Still, he had found her, rescued her, and they were both hale and whole, and he was inexpressibly grateful for whatever fate had smiled on them.
    Which fact very neatly led him to the question he was going to have to find an answer to soon: How long could he pretend—to himself, to her, and to everyone else—that he wasn’t falling, in whatever way there was to fall, for The Matchbreaker?
    Head down, eyes fixed unseeing on the pavement ahead of him, he strode quickly home.

Chapter Four
     
    T he next day, they reached Osterley Park, on the outskirts of the capital, just before noon.
    Lady Jersey greeted them with open arms. “My dears! The hero and heroine of the hour—you must tell me all about your ordeal.”
    Henrietta exchanged a cynical glance with James; neither was surprised by her ladyship’s demand. Nicknamed “Silence,” Lady Jersey was an inveterate gossip and, not having been present at the rout the previous evening but overseeing a ball at Almack’s instead, she was simply avid to hear the story from the best possible source.
    “It was merely an accident,” Henrietta informed her. “There were too many of us squeezed onto the bridge—the one over the stream that gives the best view of the fireworks—and I was accidentally tipped off.”
    “And James here jumped in and rescued you.” Lady Jersey sent James an arch glance, then drew back to examine Henrietta. “Well, you don’t appear to have taken any lasting harm, which is the main thing.” Her ladyship’s somewhat protuberant eyes shifted again to James, and she smiled. “And James had the chance to play knight-errant to your fair maiden.” Lady Jersey’s smile deepened and she looked back at Henrietta. “Excellent! Now you must come and join the others—we’re gathering in the conservatory. Once everyone arrives, we’ll head off on our ramble.”
    They allowed themselves to be ushered into the conservatory, then Lady Jersey whisked back to greet more arrivals, leaving them to the mercies of those already assembled.
    Immediately, they were besieged, not just by matrons willing to be appalled by the horrors of a near brush with death but even more by the many unmarried young ladies present, all eager to vicariously experience a real life-and-death rescue.
    James would have slunk away, would have run away if he’d been able— anything rather than face the bright eyes of the young ladies so eager to ooh and aah over his manly exploits—but even though Henrietta seemed to be bearing up well, he didn’t want to, couldn’t make himself, quit her side. Even when she