“Good heavens!” she exclaimed as she righted herself in the seat and pushed the rim of her bonnet out of her eyes. “We must have hit a cow!” But when she scrambled out of the coach, she found Theo kneeling beside the prone figure of a man, the two outriders standing over him with lanterns. Amanda’s stomach twisted with empathy and apprehension, and for a moment she was unable to move. The man’s long legs, clad in light gray breeches and tall black boots, were the only part of him she could see from where she stood; his face was entirely hidden from view behind Theo’s broad back. The man did not lie directly in the path of the agitated horses but was sprawled just off the road to the side. He was very still. Too still. “Good God, Theo, we haven’t killed him, have we?” she asked her coachman in a tremulous whisper. “We didn’t trample ’im, if’n that’s what ye’re wonderin’, miss,” answered Theo, turning to look at her. As he was crouched directly under the lantern glow, Amanda could see her coachman’s distraught expression quite clearly.
