That the house lay dark and still caused him to hope Amanda was safely home and his parents snugly abed. With the aid of his exhausted coachman, he negotiated the steps and placed his key in the lock, then dismissed the man and hobbled on his swollen ankle up the steps to his sister’s room. The door was unlocked, and Andrew pushed it inward with a tiny squeak of the hinges. The first mauve streaks of dawn filtered through the balcony doors and showed him Amanda curled on her side in her bed. With a sigh of relief, Andrew limped into the room for a closer look. She was asleep, her breathing deep and regular, her fingertips curved against her lips. There was a smile on her face, an oddly serene smile, thought Andrew, considering she’d been swooped up just hours ago and carried off on horseback by a masked man. But no matter. She was safe, hopefully unharmed, and apparently not at all overset by her ordeal. He turned away from the bed then and hobbled off to his own chamber, his relief giving way to anger.
