Page 9 of Earl Crazy
“Get off!” She squirmed and clawed against his hold, flopping about like an outraged fish at the end of a hook. “For pity’s sake, I was only trying to help you!”
Helphim? “By dousing me with absinthe?”
“I didn’t…I thought it was sherry!”
Was that meant to reassure him? “I prefer my spirits be served in a tumbler, not dashed in my face!”
Looming above him was a blurry madwoman, and she was…good Lord, was she holding one of his heavy crystal decanters in her hand? It was a wonder she hadn’t bludgeoned him to death!
She still might, come to that. He tightened his fingers around her ankle and tugged, hoping to topple her to the ground before she could crack his skull in two. “Put the decanter down, before you do something you’ll regret!”
She didn’t answer, but the decanter slipped from her hand and dropped to the ground in an explosion of glass. She fell to her knees beside him and began clawing at his hands in a desperate attempt to get free. “Let go of my ankle, sir, or I’ll be forced to take drastic measures!”
More drastic than strangling? Because somehow, with all their tussling the neck of his shirt had tightened into a noose, and was pressing into his windpipe. “Stop thrashing about, would you? We’re not getting anywhere like this. Be still, and I’ll release you, and I vow on my honor as a gentleman I won’t harm you.”
It wasn’t much of a vow, considering he wasn’t a gentleman.
But shockingly, she did as he bid her. Her hands fell away, and he rolled onto his back, the absinth running in sticky rivulets down his neck. He shook his head to clear it, droplets of sticky absinthe flying from the ends of his hair in every direction, until at last he caught his breath.
He squinted down at her, but he was still coughing and spluttering from the foul liquid that had found its way up his nose. He couldn’t see a bloody thing, aside from a vaguely female-shaped person with a cloud of dark hair. “Is that you, Fanny? I told you before I left London, we’re finished. Attacking me is hardly the way to try and wriggle yourself back into my good graces.”
A brief, stunned silence fell, followed by a most unladylike snort. “My, youdothink highly of yourself, if you believe a lady would attack you merely because you deprived her of your company.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake.” There was a heavy sigh. “I’m not Fanny, as you’d find out for yourself if you’d open your eyes.”
“I’d like to, but unfortunately, they’re sealed shut with absinthe.”
“Shall I fetch the sherry, then? Perhaps it would help unstick them.”
Her voice was low, a bit husky, and entirely unlike Fanny’s shrill tones. His eyes were streaming, but he struggled upright, pried his eyelids apart, and studied the indistinct face swimming before him.
Dark hair, brown eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a pair of pink lips that hinted at a delicious plumpness, even as they were flattened in a frown.
He blinked, then blinked again. She was quite right.
Shewasn’tFanny. He’d never laid eyes on this lady before. “Who thedevilare you?”
“No one. That is, we’re, er…not acquainted with each other.”
“No? Are you in the habit, madam, of sneaking about stranger’s private gardens, and attempting to murder gentlemen you aren’t acquainted with, then? Are you some sort of female villain?”
“I wasn’t sneaking! I was, er, looking for something.”
“In my garden? What could you possibly be looking—”
“And if I had wanted to murder you, I might have done so easily, because you left your front door open to whatever scoundrel chose to stroll through it.”
“Open?” Had he neglected to close the cottage door when Darby arrived? Damn it, he couldn’t remember. The entire evening was a blur. “I don’t…that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Not much, no.” She let out another sigh, scrambled up onto her knees beside him, and peered down into his face. “You don’t look at all well. We’d better get you up.”
Yes, that was a good idea. He flailed about for a bit, but his limbs didn’t appear to be working properly, and he fell back with a grunt.
She reached for him, and gave his shirt a determined tug, only to topple back over onto her backside. “Goodness, you’re heavy! A bit of help, if you can manage it?”
“I’m not in the habit of assisting my attackers, madam.” Yet he struggled onto his knees anyway, as it wouldn’t do to lounge about while there was a murderess in his garden.
