The Nanny Arrangement. Lily George

you all right, sir?” the coachman cried out from above him—far above him, and not through the window, but through the carriage door, which was now where the ceiling had been. The coachman whistled softly. “You look as though you lost the fight.”

      “Thank you for that.” Paul sat up gingerly, withdrawing his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and holding it to his face. “What on earth happened?”

      “Has to be a broken axle.” The coachman heaved himself on top of the door and extended his hand down to Paul. “I know Jim was worried about that right front wheel. The grooms are taking a look at the damage now.”

      Paul allowed himself to be pulled upright, and then heaved himself through the door and onto the curiously slanting side of the coach. He slid down and sank onto the muddy road, pressing the handkerchief to his face to stop the bleeding. “This is what comes of changing plans,” he muttered.

      The rain picked up in earnest, and thunder boomed in the distance.

      “Aye, it’s a broken axle,” one of the grooms shouted. “Can’t repair it here.”

      Paul struggled to his feet, his cheek throbbing. “We need to get back to Kellridge. From there we can get enough hands out to set the carriage right, and bring it back for repairs.” He turned to his coachman. “How far are we from home?”

      “Riding at our usual pace, I’d say we’re only half an hour away,” the coachman replied. “Walking, I’d say about an hour.”