"It was cloudy, remember, but just then, the moon came out and shone right on him-the fellow on the horse-and he wasn't that far away. I did see him clearly. I think. Only it might have been a trick of the moonlight."
"Why so unsure?"
Reggie looked at Martin. "Because the devilish thing is, he looked just like you."
Silence, then Amanda stated, "But that's impossible. It couldn't have been Martin-he
was with me when we heard the shots."
"I know that's impossible!" Fretfully, Reggie plucked at the coverlet. "But he asked what I saw-that's what I saw. I know it wasn't him. It's just what I said-the man looked like him."
Amanda sat back, as if marshaling her arguments. Martin tweaked her sleeve. "We'll leave you to rest. Just sleep and recover. We'll leave the door ajar-if you want anything, ring the bell."
Still frowning, but with his eyes now shut, Reggie nodded.
Martin indicated the door with his head; Amanda hesitated, then leaned down and kissed Reggie's cheek. "Just get well."
Reggie's frown eased. The line of his lips did, too.
They left him.
"I don't understand." Frowning, Amanda carried the empty ewer into the kitchen. Martin followed, carrying the discarded bandages in the basin. They headed for the scullery. Amanda was still frowning when they returned to the kitchen.
Onslow was coming down the stairs.
They both saw him; Amanda opened her mouth-Martin grabbed her arm, squeezed in warning. She looked at him in surprise.
"Onslow-you must have got a glimpse of the highwayman." The coachman wavered on his feet; Martin waved him to the armchair. "Sit down, and tell us what you saw. Don't worry about how it sounds. Just describe the man as best you can."
Onslow sighed as he settled into the chair. "I'm right glad you said that, m'lord, 'cause truth to tell, I thought I must've been seeing double. The geezer looked a lot like yourself." As Reggie had, Onslow studied Martin anew. "Wasn't you, I know, and not just because I'd left you down the road having an argy-bargy with Miss Amanda, who I know wouldn't've shut up quick."
Martin glanced at Amanda; she didn't know whether to smile or frown.
"Thing is, I can't put my finger on just why I knew'twasn't you. You don't have a brother, do you?"
"No." Martin frowned. "But-" He cut off the revelation; when Amanda raised her brows at him, he shook his head. Asked Onslow, "How's the wound?"
"Aching, but not as bad as it was. I reckon I'll rest and gather my strength, then I'll see to the horses after lunch."
There was at least an hour remaining before luncheon. Amanda headed back into the house. "I still have to air rooms for us and make up the beds. I'd only just started when Reggie woke."
Martin followed her into the front hall. "Wait." From the foot of the stairs, she looked at him, arching a brow. Beneath her animation, she was weary. "Come out to the garden for a few minutes-you need some air yourself."
She glanced up the stairs. "But the rooms-"
"Will still be there after lunch. Don't forget the light fades earlier here-you won't be able to stroll in the garden of an evening."
Amanda smiled, but left the stairs and joined him. "I came prepared for Scotland, remember?"
He took her hand, then turned, not for the front door, but down a side corridor.
"Where are we going?"
"A special place."
She could see that for herself when he guided her through the French doors at the end of the wing into a protected court leading to a garden that must, once, have been a fantasy of scent and color. Although overgrown, remnants of graceful beauty remained, colorful blooms splashing against verdant growth hinting at what, with a little taming, could still be.
"It's beautiful." Walking by his side, she swung about and looked back. The garden was protected from the north and east by the rising cliffs, from the west by the house. To the south, the river valley spread before them, basking in mild sunshine. Looking ahead again, she spied a seat at the end of the garden. "Was this your mother's garden?"