“If you hate skating this much and you’ve never done it before, why would you even come out?” she asked, frowning at him. “My sister’s husband stayed behind, as did Lord Hanover. You could have joined them in a game of billiards.”
He could have…but then, he wouldn’t be where Honora was.
“I thought I’d give it a go. Try something new and all that.”
“An admirable thought,” she nodded. “Too bad you’re so terrible at it.”
His brows drew together. “I’m not terrible.”
“No, you are,” she said solemnly. “The worst I’ve ever seen, to be honest. And that includes Lady Richardson.” Honora glanced over her shoulder to where an elderly woman swathed in furs was carefully making her way across the ice. “She turns eighty-seven next week, you know.”
A muscle ticked in Jasper’s jaw. “I did not know that.”
“I wouldn’t feel poorly, though.” Honora gave him a sweetly encouraging smile. “It’s not as if skating is the only thing you’re bad at. Surely, there is something to be said for consistency.”
Brat, he thought with even parts amusement and exasperation.
“There’s something you should know about me, Lady Honora.”
Her head canted. “What’s that, Lord Slatington?”
“I don’t give up easily.” Gazing meaningfully at her long enough to bring a delightful blush to her cheeks, Jasper shoved himself back up. This time he was prepared for his limbs to go in different directions, and before they had the chance to desert him – traitorous buggers that they were – he found his center of balance.
“Now what?” he said tersely, unable to look away from his feet for fear of having them fly out from under him.
“Now, you take a breath, then release it. In and out. Yes, like that,” she said when his chest rose and fell beneath his heavy greatcoat. “Very good.”
“I know how to breathe,” he bit out. “I need to learn how to ice skate.”
“Breathing has a direct correlation to the tension in your body, and if your body is tense, you cannot skate.” She studied him with a critical eye. “Your form is all wrong.”
Jasper couldn’t help himself. “I’ve been told my form is excellent.”
Her blush deepened. “I’ve no doubt you’re accustomed to receiving an endless litany of compliments. But compliments won’t keep you from ending up on your arse again. Here, watch me.” Her skirts fluttered as she glided away from him, then turned and came back. “Do you see how my blades never left the ice? Skating should be one long, continuous movement.”
“I wasn’t looking at your blades,” he admitted with a roguish grin.
Honora sighed. “You’re a difficult pupil, Lord Slatington.”
“Maybe because I’d rather be teaching. Would you like to pick up our lesson where we left off in the solarium?”
“No I would not,” she hissed, pinning her mittens to her hips. “You are incorrigible, Lord Slatington–”
“Thank you.”
“–And if you cannot mind your manners you will have to find someone else to help you!”
His grin slipped away. “I don’t want anyone else.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Honora cleared her throat.
“I’m going to the far end of the pond. Please pay attention to my blades as I return. Note how I maintain a rhythm, not unlike a waltz.”
“Did you say breasts or blades?” He arched a brow. “I’m happy to pay attention to both, if you’d like, but I did want to clarify.”
“Incorrigible,” Honora repeated before she skated away.
Chuckling to himself, Jasper studied her feet for less than second before his gaze rose to her bottom. It was a lovely bottom, evenly shaped without being too large or too small. Not that he’d ever seen a bottom that was either. Big, little, in between – he liked them all. But he particularly enjoyed Honora’s.
He wanted to touch it again.
He wanted to touch her again.
If she’d let him.
He felt like a boy tugging on the braid of the girl he fancied. He’d never known what he would do if the girl actually turned around. Usually, they had squealed and run away from him, most likely due to the frog he’d inevitably tucked into some pocket or another. Likewise, he hadn’t the foggiest notion of what he would do if Honora responded to his flirtations in kind. If he wanted her this much when she openly despised the sight of him, to what heights would his desire climb if she reciprocated this madcap attraction?
Bloody hell, it had taken all his self-restraint not to lose control in the solarium, and all he’d been trying to do was give her a small kiss! Something he’d done countless other times with countless other women.
But this kiss had been different. Honora was different. And if not for the interruption of Lady Appleton, he didn’t know when he would have stopped.
Or even if he could have.
Crossing his arms, he watched Honora as she reached the far end of the pond and started to head back. She’d gone a fair distance away, but he could still tell it was her by the red scarf wrapped around her neck. It shone like a beacon in the dismal white landscape, and the muscles in his abdomen tightened as he imagined her wearing it and nothing else.
Suddenly there was a loud crack, as if someone had fired a pistol. Which was odd, because according to the itinerary, they weren’t hunting for game fowl until tomorrow.
Then the ice opened up…and Honora disappeared.
Once, when Honora was twelve years of age, she rode a cantankerous pony named Butterscotch at her uncle’s estate. Butterscotch loved nothing more than eating clover, and he would do anything to get a mouthful: even drop his head while at a full canter, which sent Honora flying over his neck and onto the hard ground.
Because of the fall, she did not remember the incident, but rather what happened after it. As Butterscotch gleefully stuffed his face with fresh clover, Honora laid on her back staring up at the sky, unable to move. Unable to breathe. Unable to speak. But perfectly aware of everything around her, including the enormous weight pressing down on her chest.
The wind had been knocked from her lungs, and as tears of fear and helplessness blurred her vision she had tried desperately to breathe again. But the weight on her chest was too heavy, and black began to close in all around her.
As she sank like a stone beneath the ice, dragged down by the weight of her skirts, Honora thought of that horrible fall all those years ago. She experienced the same heaviness. The same sense of helplessness. The same awful need to draw a breath, just a single breath, but when she opened her mouth, it filled with water.
And she knew she was going to die.
Chapter Eleven
When Honora woke, it was bright and the birds were singing.
At first, she was disoriented. Her head ached and her mind was groggy, as if she’d drank a glass of wine before going to bed. Except she couldn’t remember any wine. More than that, she couldn’t remember going to bed. Squinting, she sat up and gazed blearily around her room as she tried to recall her most recent memory. Was it kissing Jasper after breakfast in the solarium? No. That wasn’t it. There was more that happened afterwards; how else could she have come to be in her chamber wearing her nightdress with her face scrubbed clean and her hair in a plait down her back?
Skating.
She’d gone skating on the pond. Everyone had, including the Marquess of Slatington. And he’d been absolutely horrid at it. She started to smile as she recalled the way he’d flopped across the ice like a bird without wings, but her mouth flattened when she tried to reach for what had happened after they were done skating.
She could feel it there, rustling around the edges. A shadow that kept slipping out of her fingers every time she attempted to grab it.
Had they gone back to the house for biscuits and tea? Had she fallen asleep in the library with a book again, and been ushered upstairs, more asleep than awake?
No, th
at wasn’t right.
It was then that she noticed the roaring fire. The hot bricks tucked at the foot of the mattress. The layers and layers of blankets. Bewildered, her gaze fell to the pitcher of water on the table beside the bed…and her blood ran cold. As cold as it had been when the ice vanished beneath her feet and she plunged into the frigid water below.
As her memories returned, Honora began to shiver. Great, wracking shivers that shook her entire body and clacked her teeth together with such force that she felt the pounding of it all the way in the back of her skull.
“H-h-help me,” she croaked. “H-h-help.”
The door flew open and Lady Appleton rushed in, followed by all of Honora’s sisters. They crowded around the bed, their expressions running the gamut from relief to happiness to concern.
“You’re awake!” Rebecca cried, grabbing Honora’s trembling hand as she knelt on the floor. “We were so incredibly worried for you. The doctor said you would be fine, but–”
“–You were pale as snow,” Anne interceded. “And your lips were blue.”
“It was terrifying.” Climbing right into the bed, Emily wrapped her arms around Honora and cradled her against the warmth of her own body. “I never want to see you look like that again.”
“I n-n-never want to f-f-feel like that again,” Honora stuttered.
Blast it. She wished she could stop quaking. She didn’t even feel cold. Not with the fire and the blankets and the warm bricks at her feet.
“The tremors will pass,” Lady Appleton said soothingly as she pressed a warm cloth to Honora’s temple. “Dr. Hatfield said they were to be expected. Your temperature is continuing to rise, even now, and when it gets back to where it should be, all of the trembling should stop, and you will feel good as new.”
Well, that explained that.
But she couldn’t help except wonder…
“How did I get out of the w-water?” she asked. “I remember falling in and then…I woke up here, in my b-bedroom.”
Rebecca and Emily exchanged a quick, meaningful glance.
“W-what?” Honora’s fingers curled around her sheets. “What is it?”
“We don’t need to bother with the details of your dramatic rescue until you’re feeling better,” Lady Appleton fussed. “Why don’t you lay back and I’ll have some broth brought up.”
Dramatic rescue?
“Tell m-me,” she insisted.
“Very well,” Lady Appleton sighed. “If you think you’re up to it. It is romantic. A story you’ll one day tell your children and grandchildren, no doubt.”
Romantic? Grandchildren? What on earth was her mother talking about? She looked at Rebecca, whose eyes rolled before she settled herself on the edge of the bed and rested her hand on Honora’s knee.
“When the ice cracked, no one knew what to do,” she said. “Except for Lord Slatington.”
The twins nodded solemnly. Lady Appleton touched her heart and sighed.
Honora’s lip parted. “H-he saved me?”
“He didn’t just save you.” Rebecca’s eyebrows rose. “He risked his own life and nearly drowned in the process.”
“Is he all right?” Panicked at the horrible thought of something happening to Jasper, Honora scrambled to throw off the heavy pile of quilts. “Is he conscious?” She needed to see him with her own eyes to ensure he was safe, but the harder she fought to free herself from the blankets, the more entangled she became. As her limbs weakened, she slumped back against her pillows. “Has he been seen by the doctor?”
Emily looked at Anne. “Told you,” she said smugly.
“Lord Slatington is fine.” Rebecca patted Honora’s leg. “Nothing a dash of brandy and a hot bath couldn’t fix. He’s been more upset about you than anything else, and I’m sure he will be relieved to know you’ve finally woken up.”
“F-finally woken up?” Honora frowned. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Two days,” Lady Appleton said.
“Two days?”
Rebecca nodded. “Everyone has been very worried.”
“Especially Lord Slatington,” Emily said with a sly wink.
“I am sure it is nothing more than ordinary concern,” Honora said primly, even as a heated flush stole across her cheeks. Tucking in her chin, she pulled at a loose thread on the coverlet.
She wished she could remember Jasper pulling her from the water. But maybe it was better she didn’t. A person’s mind was a complicated thing indeed, and surely it knew best when deciding which memories to hide and which to keep. Still, she wanted to see Jasper. If only to thank him. His act of bravery had been nothing short of heroic, and without it, she knew with absolute certainty her family would be gathered around a casket instead of her bedside.
It put life in perspective, to discover she had almost died. Some things which she’d thought were important became trivial, while others – love, marriage, family – suddenly seemed much more precious.
When she looked at Emily and Richard, she saw only misery, which had helped to shape her own perspective on so-called wedded bliss. But she couldn’t deny the absolute joy on Emily’s face whenever Henry was present, nor the mutual respect between Rebecca and Lord Featherstone, or the quiet adoration that Anne felt for her husband. Even her parents, in their own subtle way, were a demonstration of all the good that could happen when two people devoted their lives to each other.
What if she’d died, and never known true love? What if she’d died, and never had a child of her own? What if she’d died, and never experienced more than a kiss? They chilled her to the bone, those “what ifs,” and left her colder than any icy pond. Shivering, she dragged the coverlet up and over her lap.
“I think I should rest for a little while,” she murmured. The quaking had finally subsided and exhaustion was beginning to creep in, weighing down her eyelids and stretching her mouth in a wide yawn.
“You’re right.” Rebecca slid off the mattress. “We’ve bothered you long enough.”
“Ring if you need anything,” Emily added as they headed out of the room.
“If you don’t make it down for dinner, I’ll have a tray brought up,” Lady Appleton promised.
“With extra ginger biscuits,” Anne added.
Honora summoned a smile. Her family might drive her crazy at times, but they were always there for her when it counted. Which inevitably led her to think of someone else who had been driving her crazy…and had been there when it counted the most.
“Please let Lord Slatington know that I am awake, and feeling much better,” she said. “I do not want him to worry unnecessarily.”
“Of course.” Her mother paused in the door, an all-too familiar glint in her hazel eyes. “I know the marquess will be pleased to hear of your recovery. He’s been very anxious.”
“Very anxious,” Rebecca called out from the hallway.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone so anxious in my life,” Emily put in.
“Do you know why he would be anxious?” Anne asked innocently.
Honora threw a pillow at them.
Jasper shot up out of his chair the moment he saw Lady Rebecca enter the parlor. It was mid-morning and all of the other guests had retired to their respective chambers to rest before they went into the village, but Jasper and Bridget had remained behind to hear news of Honora.
He’d nearly worn a hole in the carpet with his pacing before his sister begged him to sit, but when he saw Rebecca he could not maintain his stillness any longer.
“How is she?” Ignoring Bridget’s lightly restraining hand, he stalked across the floor to confront Rebecca before she was hardly through the door. “Is she awake? Has she said anything?”
Rebecca’s countenance, a slightly different variation of Honora’s, softened into a smile. “She is doing well,” she shared, and Jasper’s entire body sagged with relief.
“Bloody hell.” He raked both hands through his hair, then winced when he realized his error. “Apologies, my l
ady, it’s just that I thought…” He shook his head, unable to put his worst fears into words.
When he had pulled Honora from the freezing water and held her in his arms, she’d been lifeless. All of her vibrant energy was gone. Her eyes were closed. Her face ashen.
He had kept waiting for her to wake up. Kept waiting for those blue-tinged lips to curve in a smirk before she delivered a teasing quip. But she didn’t wake up; she didn’t tease him. And when he laid her down in her bed and forced himself out of the room to make space for the doctor and her family, he hadn’t known if she would live or die.
The only other time in his life he’d experienced such gut-wrenching anguish was when he learned of his father’s passing. The shock of it had dropped him to his knees, and he’d spent the next three days in a brandy-induced stupor.
“I know.” Stepping neatly around him, Rebecca prepared herself a cup of tea from the service that had been left out. “When you pulled her from the water, I think we were all afraid of what might happen.” Her hand trembled ever-so-slightly as she poured cream into her cup, the only sign she wasn’t quite as composed as she appeared. “But I am thrilled to report that Honora is awake, and speaking, and aside from a few tremors that the doctor assured us will soon pass, she is doing remarkably well.”
“Thank goodness,” said Bridget. “Is there anything we can do?”
Rebecca took a small sip of her tea. “I believe she would very much enjoy a visit once she has rested a bit more. The doctor has requested that she remain in bed for at least another day, and I fear Honora has never been very good at doing nothing.”
The corners of Jasper’s mouth twitched. No, he did not imagine Honora would enjoy being bedridden. While most women – and men, for that matter – would likely enjoy the excuse to lounge about, he didn’t think it would take long before she was climbing the walls. Her sense of purpose, her need to do something with her time as if every second spent doing nothing was a second wasted, was but one of the many things he loved about her.
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