The Untamed MacKenzie

Louisa tried to withdraw her hands, but Gilbert held them hard. She shook her head, realizing as she did so, that a piece of hay still rested on her shoulder. Daniel had noticed it, according to the sudden shrewd look he gave her.

“It makes no difference to me whether you extract yourself from the marriage or not,” Louisa said to Gil. “You must see that. I rather think you weren’t going to tell me about it at all, were you?”

“I will obtain the divorce,” Gil said stubbornly. “I won’t hold you to anything, Louisa. We won’t announce an engagement, even, if you don’t want to, until it’s done. But please, don’t say no. I love you.”

Hart had left his place in the corner of the box to take a seat next to Gil. “You’re in a bad place, Franklin,” he said. “Louisa is trying to tell you to take yourself away from her. I’ll go further and tell you to leave England altogether. Go back to Italy and acknowledge your wife and children. If you don’t think they’ll be happy in England, then stay with them and settle down there.”

Gil drew himself up. “Do not presume to tell me what to do, Kilmorgan. Your copybook is blotted far worse than mine.”

“It’s the nature of the blots that are important,” Hart said. “Secret wives cause all sorts of legal complications. And then there are your children. Four, Louisa said? All yours?”

“Yes,” Gil snapped.

“Then acknowledge them as yours. Raise them. Be a father to them. The cruelest thing you can do in this world, Franklin, is to not acknowledge your sons and daughters. Don’t let them grow up believing their father doesn’t want them.”

Like Lloyd. He grew up knowing his father had rejected him. Hart understood that. Louisa read remorse in Hart’s eyes for what his father had done.

“They’ve done nothing to deserve that,” Louisa said in avid agreement.

“Louisa, please.”

Louisa got to her feet. Gil, trained in politeness from the cradle, rose to his at the same time. But Louisa had reached the end of her patience with him. “I won’t marry you, Gil. Not now, not if you obtain a divorce. You may as well go to Italy and stay there. I think you should leave at once. I’m sure you can find a train that will carry you to Dover this very evening.”

“Louisa . . .”

“No, Gil. I’d like you to go now.”

Louisa took a step away from him, intending to join the ladies. Gil reached for her, desperation on his face. Louisa sidestepped his outstretched hands, tripped, and came down on the same foot she’d wrenched dancing.

She cried out and started to fall. Gil snatched at her in true alarm and missed.

Another hand caught Louisa under her arm, lifting her up again. Ian. He frowned down at her, the look in his eyes telling Louisa he knew everything that was going on and everything that would come.

How he knew, Louisa didn’t bother trying to understand. What Ian did and didn’t know was always astonishing to her.

“Wretched foot.” Louisa took a step and cried out again. Ian’s grip tightened, and Daniel sprang to her other side, supporting her between himself and Ian.

“Sit down, Aunt Louisa,” Daniel said. “I’ll fetch Angelo. He’s excellent at binding up fetlocks.”

Louisa grimaced. “Thank you, Danny, but I believe I’ve done more to my fetlock than I previously thought.”

“She’s right,” Isabella said worriedly. “We’ll take you to a doctor, dear. I’m sure there are competent surgeons in Newmarket.”

Ian looked at Daniel. “We will take her.”

“We will?” Daniel blinked. “Yes, of course we will. Come along, Auntie. Ian and I will take care of you.”

Isabella tried to follow, but Ian had Louisa hauled out of the box so quickly that Isabella got left behind. When Ian reached the stairs, he abandoned trying to help Louisa walk and simply lifted her into his arms.

Ian didn’t much like touching people, or people touching him. He welcomed hugs from Beth and his children, tolerated them from his brothers and Daniel, but he slid away from everyone else. Now Ian cradled Louisa close, never minding that she clasped her hands around his neck to hold on.

Ian walked rapidly and grimly down the stairs with her, as though he carried a Mackenzie dog that had hurt itself. And possibly, Louisa mused, Ian thought of Louisa as little different from them.

Daniel ran ahead and found the doctor Ian sought. The man’s eyes widened when he saw Louisa, pale and hurt, and changed from the social gentleman to the professional.

“Bring her in here,” he said, gesturing to one of the tents.

This one was empty, whatever use it had been put to finished, tables strewn about waiting to be carried away. Daniel made certain a table was clear, and Ian laid Louisa on it. Louisa bit her lip, trying to look brave.

One of Sir Richard Cavanaugh’s lackeys hurried in with his bag and departed just as quickly. Sir Richard ran his hand competently over Louisa’s ankle, and she made a noise of pain when he squeezed the right place.

“I’ll need to examine it more closely—it might be broken. Gentlemen, if you’ll go?”

He meant that he might have to expose Louisa’s bare ankle. Daniel and Ian weren’t closely enough related to her that it would be proper for them to see that. Silly, but Sir Richard had likely learned long ago to adhere strictly to the rules. Hence his knighthood.

“Wait for Isabella first,” Daniel suggested.