Page 61 of The Rake’s Convenient Bride

Panic curled around her heart, catching it in an iron grip.

Because what if it was Jasper’s horse? What if this was Devil’s Snare, whom he’d spoken of with such pride?

And why would Jasper no longer be on him?

Propriety be damned, she ran out into the rain, ignoring the stinging pelt of the frigid droplet and the footman’s pleas to return to the manor. Up close, she saw a scar on the horse’s chest, a mark made by the trainer who had so cruelly tried to whip the horse into submission.

The breath choked from her. This absolutely was Devil’s Snare.

“Lord Darington was riding this horse,” she called to the footman. “He is in need of assistance. Ready the carriage.”

The footman ran off to do as he was bidden, shouting to the stable master who was rapidly approaching.

Devil’s Snare nuzzled Elizabeth in an anxious bid to gain her attention.

“You have my full attention,” she promised, turning the palm of her hand to his soft muzzle. “Take us to your master and I shall pray it is not too late.”

Then, without thought, she came round the side of the horse, lifted her skirts to affix her left foot into the stirrup, then gripped the saddle and swung herself up into the seat.

She scarcely had time to readjust the reins before the horse was off at a canter, rushing toward the gate. She turned him toward the stables and he aggressively turned back to the gate.

The stable master followed behind her, a single horse affixed to a simple wooden wagon. “This will do in a pinch,” he called.

Elizabeth allowed Devil’s Snare to race onward, pausing to slow the gallop to a trot, to ensure the carriage could keep up. On the open road, there was no slowing the beast as he raced down the path.

He stopped abruptly, pacing backwards with apparent unease. That’s when Elizabeth saw him.

Jasper.

Lying perfectly still beside a tree stump nestled in the grass along the side of the road.

She swung her leg over the saddle, hopping down into the mud and ran to him, falling beside where he lay.

“Jasper,” she cried, her voice a shriek amid the roar of driving rain.

He did not acknowledge her and fear gripped her hear.

He was so still. Too still.

No. This couldn’t be.

He had come all the way here. For her.

By God, she would not lose him now.

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and screamed his name. His brow flinched and she gasped out a sob.

He wasn’t dead.

Thank God.

She caught his hand. “We’ll get you help.”

The stable master appeared.

“He’s alive, but needs a physician,” she said, unable to pull her gaze from Jasper’s face, which had once again fallen still.

“I’ll get him on the wagon, my lady, and we’ll summon the physician.”