“Very true, but you must also stay out of the hamper while it’s Stephen’s turn in the water. We will eat together once the lessons are finished.”
Edward heaved a big sigh. “All right.”
“Very good. Now strip down to just your underthings. We don’t want that skeleton suit getting in your way.” Nate turned to Anne. “My apologies, Miss Davenport, but I will have to shed my shirt. I hope you don’t mind?”
Did he see a gleam of desire in her eyes?
“No, of course I don’t m-mind,” she said. “You must do whatever is best for the lessons.”
* * *
Anne watched Nate and Edward walk down to the water. Edward was holding Nate’s hand, skipping happily beside him and chattering away about boats and water and fish and swimming, while Nate listened.
Mmm, Nate had a lovely broad back. It was so, er, interesting to compare his form to Edward’s. That must be why she was studying it so closely. Nothing more.
Nate had been a boy once. Had he been serious like Stephen? Or more carefree like Edward? Though Stephen might be very different if he’d had a proper father.
Nate will be a wonderful father. I wish he and I could . . .
No. He and she could not . . . anything. He’d said as much. How many times did she have to remind herself of that fact?
She glanced over at Stephen, who was sitting stiffly next to her, watching the swim lesson.
Edward shouted with glee, and she turned back to the two in the water. They were splashing each other—and then Edward ducked his head underwater.
“Is that safe?” Stephen asked tensely.
“Oh, I think so. See? Edward has popped up again. He’s having fun.”
Stephen did not look convinced. “I don’t want to put my face in the water.”
“Then you must tell Lord Haywood that. He won’t make you do anything you don’t wish to do.”
Stephen’s thin shoulders hunched up by his ears. “How do you know?”
She repressed a spurt of impatience. Of course Stephen was nervous. He was likely a cautious child by nature and having had to live with a violent father could not have helped matters.
And he was right in this instance. She didn’t know with complete certainty what the marquess would do.
“Do you think Lord Haywood will make you put your face in the water?”
She watched his fingers twist together while she waited for his answer.
“N-no. I guess not.” He sucked his breath in sharply as he saw Nate toss Edward away from him. Edward sank under the water again—Stephen started to get up—but then Edward’s head broke the surface and he kicked and thrashed the short distance to Nate.
“I know that looked a bit alarming, Stephen”—she had certainly been alarmed—“but if you think about it, you’ll realize it was perfectly safe. Lord Haywood was always within arm’s reach of Edward. He would have picked Edward up immediately had it been necessary.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Stephen—” Patience. “You’re right. There’s always some risk. That’s the way life is—you probably know that better than I do. Sometimes you just have to trust.” Something he’d not been able to do with his despicable father. “Do you trust Lord Haywood?”
His fingers twisted faster.
“I suppose I do.” He sighed, some of the tightness going out of him. “Edward is much braver than I am.”
She laid her hand gently on his arm. “I think you are very brave, Stephen.”
Edward came running up then, Nate following behind.
“It was fun, Stephen. Did you see? I swimmed to Uncle Nate!”
“Swam,” Nate said, laughing. “You swam to me, Edward.”
“Yes, I did. All by myself. And it was fun! I want to do it again.”
Nate put his hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Only with me or another grown-up, Edward. Remember, you promised.”
Edward nodded reluctantly. “Yes. Only with a grown-up.”
Anne was trying very hard not to stare at Nate. His wet breeches hugged his legs like a second skin, and his naked chest and shoulders and arms glistened in the sun. A bead of water trickled down from his neck, and he flicked it away.
“It’s too bad we didn’t bring towels.” He grinned at Anne, clearly so full of the thrill of playing with Edward he wasn’t thinking at all about how his half-naked body was affecting her. “Edward is going to make the blanket very wet.”
She forced herself to smile. “Then he will have to choose a corner and stay on it. I don’t wish to sit on a wet spot.”
Nate laughed. “No, indeed. So choose wisely, young Edward.” He smiled at Stephen. “Your turn.”
Anne held her breath. Surely Nate wouldn’t try to force Stephen?
He didn’t. When the boy didn’t respond immediately, he just asked calmly, “Are you ready?”
She wanted to urge Stephen to go, but she bit her tongue. The boy didn’t need her pushing him either.
Edward, however, was oblivious. “If you don’t want to go, Stephen, I’ll go again. It’s fun!” He turned to Nate. “Can I go again, Uncle Nate?”
“Maybe later, Edward. Now it’s Stephen’s turn.” He extended his hand. “Stephen?”
Stephen looked at Anne. She tried to smile encouragingly.
“All right,” he said finally. “I’ll go.” He got up and walked, like a man might walk to the gallows, down to the water with Nate.
Edward flopped on the blanket next to her. “Uncle Nate said I swimmed really well.”
So much for keeping the area around her dry.
“Yes, you did. I saw you.” She looked to see how Stephen was doing. He and Nate were standing in water up to Stephen’s waist, and Nate was bent over, talking intently to the boy.
“Did you see how I blew bubbles?”
“I’m afraid I was too far away to see that.” Oh, good, they were moving farther out. The lesson must be going well—or at least all right.
“You saw how he threw me in the air, didn’t you?”
“I did.” Ah! Nate had got Stephen to put his face in the water. He must be a good teacher to be able to manage two such different students.
“I wasn’t afraid at all. I can’t wait to go swimming again.”
“Yes, waiting can be hard.” Oh, dear. Nate and Stephen had waded even farther out and Stephen must have lost his footing or stepped in a hole. He went under. Nate looked surprised—
Edward leapt up. “Stephen is drowning!”
Heavens, she hadn’t thought the boy’d been paying any attention to his brother’s lesson.
“Edward, wait!” She grabbed for him, but he’d already put his head down and taken off running. “Stop! You can’t go in the water without Lord Haywood.”
She tried to get up, but her feet got tangled in her skirt. “Nate!”
He was too far away to hear her or to catch Edward even if he knew of the danger, which he didn’t. He was completely focused on Stephen, whom he’d just pulled out of the water.
I have to stop Edward.
The boy was fast. He’d already reached the water.
“Nate!” she screamed again as she finally managed to stand. She picked up her skirt and ran faster than she’d ever run in her life.
I should have kept hold of Edward. He’s only five. He doesn’t understand the danger.
She splashed into the water behind Edward. Nate had heard her and was coming back, but he was in chest-high water, which slowed him down, and he had Stephen clinging to his back.
He wouldn’t reach Edward in time.
“Edward!” she shouted.
The boy finally turned—and fell backward.
“Edward!” She lunged for him—he was just out of her reach—and then her feet slipped in the mud, sending her flopping face-first into the lake.
Had her fall sent a wave of water over Edward? Was he drowning? Oh, God!
I have to get up.
But her straw bonnet was heavy with wat
er—it felt as if the brim had wrapped itself around her face—and her dress was sodden, dragging her down. The water was only two or three feet deep, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t stand. She couldn’t breathe. She—
She was lifted up by a pair of strong hands and held safe against a broad, naked chest. Nate!
She rested her cheek against his skin and listened to his heart hammering as he plucked her hat from her head.
But where are Stephen and Edward?
“Are you all right, Miss Anne?” That was Edward’s voice, right by her ear.
She snapped her head up to see Edward and Stephen peering over Nate’s shoulders, clinging to his back like a pair of monkeys.
“Are you all right, Anne?” Nate sounded quite anxious.
She took a deep breath. “Yes.” Another breath. “I’m fine. You can let go of me now.”
He loosened his hold on her and she took a step back—and staggered, almost falling again.
“Your waterlogged skirts are going to make walking difficult,” he said rather sharply. “Hold on to me.”
She didn’t have a choice, but at least they were almost out of the water. In just a few steps, she was able to let go as he helped Stephen and Edward slide down from his back.
“I’m sorry, Miss Anne,” a very subdued Edward whispered.
“It’s all right, Edward.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “As you can see, I’m fine. No harm done.”
“Your bonnet is r-ruined.” Edward’s lower lip started to tremble.
“It’s only a bonnet. It’s not even one of my favorites.” She started back to the blanket, but her heavy skirts clung to her legs. She stumbled.
Nate swung her up into his arms.
“Hey!” She grabbed his shoulders. The ground was suddenly quite a distance away.
“Don’t worry. I won’t drop you.”
He carried her up to the blanket, the boys following dispiritedly behind, and put her down.
“And now,” he said, turning to Edward.
Anne opened her mouth to defend the boy, but Stephen had already jumped between Nate and Edward.
“Edward didn’t mean to be bad, Uncle Nate. Did you, Edward?” He didn’t wait for Edward to respond. “He was coming to save me. He thought I was drowning. Don’t hit him. Please don’t hit him.”
Nate had been scowling, but with those words, his face froze.
Anne’s heart stopped. Oh, dear God.
“I’m s-sorry,” Edward said from his position behind Stephen. He pressed his lips tightly together and sniffed several times, trying not to cry.
Nate crouched down so his face was level with Stephen’s and Edward’s. “I’m not going to hit anyone,” he said quietly.
“It’s my fault.” Stephen spoke quickly, his words almost tripping over each other. “Edward was coming to save me. If you’re going to hit someone, it should be me.”
“Stephen, didn’t you hear me? I’m not going to hit anyone—not Edward, not you.”
“You’re angry,” Edward said.
“Yes, I am. What you did was very dangerous, Edward. And you broke your promise to me. That was not honorable.”
Edward’s eyes flooded with tears. “I thought Stephen was going to drown.”
“Yes, he—” Stephen began.
Nate held up his hand to stop him. “Stephen, this is between Edward and me.” He looked back at Edward. “I understand, Edward. But you must understand. Your actions put both you and Miss Davenport at risk.”
Edward started to cry in earnest. Anne reached to comfort him, but Nate held up his hand to stop her.
“Edward,” he said firmly.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Nate.” Edward took a deep, shuddery breath. “I’m sorry, Miss Anne.”
Edward was going to make himself sick. How could Nate be so hard-hearted?
“You should be sorry, Edward, but we all make mistakes. If we’re lucky, our mistakes don’t cause permanent harm. The important thing is to learn from our mistakes so we don’t make the same ones again. What have you learned?”
Edward wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Not to go in the water alone?”
“Yes. Don’t forget it.” Nate looked at Stephen. “And that goes for you, too, Stephen. Don’t go swimming without an adult. Do you give me your word on that?”
Stephen nodded.
“Splendid.” He smiled at the boys. “Now I think it’s time we had something to eat, don’t you? I’m hungry.”
“I’m hungry, too,” Edward said, his tears vanishing at the mention of food.
Nate ruffled his hair and then picked up his shirt. “Get your clothes on, boys.” He looked at Anne. “I wish I could offer you a dry dress, Miss Davenport.”
“We’ll just have to hope my dress and your breeches—” Drat it all, I’m blushing. “We’ll just have to hope the sun dries us.” She took off her sodden shoes and peeled off her stockings. “It’s a beautiful day, after all. Not a cloud in the sky.”
But when she looked up, she saw an ominous mass of dark clouds off to the west.
But it’s sunny here. Surely they will blow the other way.
Nate was eyeing her. “You might want to let your hair down.” He grinned. “It’s already coming down in the back, you know.”
It was. “I suppose you’re right.” It would likely dry more quickly down. She started pulling out her pins, carefully putting them in a pile on the blanket so she could reuse them later.
She glanced at the clouds again. Unease snaked up her spine. Are they closer?
“Open the basket, Uncle Nate.” Clearly, Edward had recovered his spirits. “I’m very hungry.”
Nate laughed and lifted the hamper’s lid.
Anne heard—no, it must have been the creak of the basket’s hinges. She looked up again.
The clouds are definitely closer.
Her heart started to race, and her breath came in short gasps.
“Ah, Mrs. Limpert has outdone herself,” she thought she heard Nate say, but it was as if his words came from a distance.
And then she heard it again. This time there was no question. It was the rumble of thunder.
Oh, God, no.
Chapter Thirteen
“We have to go inside.” Miss Davenport scrambled to her feet. “We have to go inside now.” She looked as if she was on the verge of bolting, her body tense, eyes wide and frightened.
Nate closed the hamper. Neither of the boys complained. They were so attuned to the emotional atmosphere around them, they now looked a little tense and frightened, too.
“What’s amiss, Anne?” Nate asked quietly.
“We have to go inside.” She pointed over his shoulder. “There’s a storm coming.”
He looked at the clouds. They were still quite a distance away.
“Please.” Terror shimmered in her voice. “We have to go right now.”
He heard a faint rumble of thunder—and Anne’s whimper.
“Very well.” She was clearly far too frightened to discuss the matter, and she was correct that it was better to be inside if there was any chance of a storm, especially around water. “We’ll go to the cottage.”
Anne nodded and ran barefoot back to the folly, lifting her wet skirts high, leaving her hairpins and shoes and stockings behind. Nate picked them up, as well as the blanket and the hamper, and followed with the boys. When they arrived at the cottage, Anne was jerking on the door latch with both hands.
“It. Won’t. Open.” Her words were spaced out with little panicked gasps.
“That’s because it’s locked, Anne.”
There was another rumble of thunder and she jumped, pressing her face against the door. “The key. Where’s the key?”
The boys looked at him. Even Edward appeared worried about Anne. Her behavior wasn’t normal. Oh, he’d seen people—even other men—who didn’t like storms. You could tell they were nervous, no matter how much they tried to hide the fact. But he’d never seen someone almost m
ad with fear as Anne was.
He put down what he was carrying and reached up to wiggle loose a stone above the lintel. Ah. Duck hadn’t been mistaken, thank God. The key was exactly where it was supposed to be.
He slipped it into the lock, turned it—and almost had his fingers torn off as Anne shoved the door open and dashed inside.
She stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around her. “Come in and shut the door before the storm comes.”
“Is Miss Anne sick?” Edward whispered, tugging on Nate’s leg as Nate stooped to pick everything up.
“She’s just a little afraid of storms,” Nate whispered back.
Both boys’ eyes widened at his use of “a little.” Stephen threw Anne a worried glance.
“Hurry!” she shouted—and then whimpered when there was another distant rumble. “Please hurry.”
“Something’s wrong,” Stephen said.
Nate nodded. Something was definitely wrong. He ushered the boys inside and closed the door behind them.
Anne literally sagged with relief. “We should be safe now.”
“Yes,” Nate said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. Stephen and Edward stood close together in a corner by the door, watching anxiously to see what was going to happen next.
He’d better get things settled now, before the storm got any closer.
Duck kept the cottage in good order. There were only two rooms—this small main room with its stone floor, table, chairs, and hearth, and a smaller bedchamber. He put the hamper down on the table—and noticed Anne was shivering.
It was a bit chilly in here, especially in damp clothes. He glanced at the hearth—good. There was coal at the ready.
“If you will take off your clothes, Miss Davenport—”
She gasped. “Lord Haywood!”
He almost laughed at her expression of shocked indignation. “Not here, of course. In the bedroom. You can wrap yourself in a sheet or a blanket or something and then bring out your things. I’m going to start a fire.”
She flushed. Apparently she was recovered enough from her terror to have room for embarrassment. “Oh, no. I c-couldn’t. I—” She shivered again.
“You not only can, you will. I’ll not have your death from ague on my conscience.” He stepped closer and dropped his voice. “Now go into the other room and take everything off.”
How to Manage a Marquess Page 18