Hauling her to shore, he threw her onto the bank. The impact of her body hitting the ground knocked the water out of her lungs, and she began to cough up the dirt-tinged liquid. Frederick crawled up beside her, breathing heavily. Hovering over her, he waited to make sure she was breathing before he lay back in the grass in relieving exhaustion.
“That is what I get for tripping a nobleman,” Josephine gasped out once the coughing had ceased.
“I do not find it amusing, Jo. You nearly died,” Frederick panted, shooting her a reproachful look.
“And you saved me,” she remarked, studying his face. “You haven’t called me Jo for some time.”
“I am not ashamed to admit that you had me quite concerned.” Frederick met her eyes and was instantly lost in their limpid black depths. From the time they were children, all she had had to do was look at him with those eyes, and he had done whatever she wished. All but one thing. He could not, under any circumstances, allow himself to love her as more than a friend. Anything more was impossible as his station forbid it.
“As was I,” Josephine replied, turning her head to stare out over the water. “How many times did we swim in this pond as children without a single moment of worry, and now every time I see it, I will be reminded how close I came to death. Were it not for you…”
“You are alive, and that is what matters,” Frederick consoled her, placing his hand on top of hers.
Josephine turned back to look at him and nodded. “You are right.”
Frederick stood and assisted her to her feet. She wobbled for a moment, and he wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her. The warmth of her body soaked through the cool wetness of her drenched clothing. “Let us get you dry before you fall ill.” Frederick had never known Josephine to be seriously ill a day in her life, but he had needed an excuse to put distance between them before temptation got the best of him.
“Yes, I suppose we should,” Josephine sighed, turning back towards the manor house. They walked side by side for a time until they reached the entrance hall. Without a word, they each parted ways, Josephine to the servants’ quarters and Frederick to his bedchamber.
Frederick passed his father on the way to his room. The Duke looked his son up and down wrinkling his nose in disgust. “You smell of fish and mud. Been frolicking about with that servant girl again, have you?”
“Yes, Father. I am afraid we took a bit of a tumble into the pond while inspecting a swan’s nest,” Frederick admitted, shrugging out of his sodden jacket. “I apologize for my unpleasant state. I will change and join you in the library to discuss the affairs of the estate momentarily.”
“See that you do not keep me waiting,” the Duke admonished, then continued on his way. “And take a bath,” he threw over his shoulder as an afterthought.
“Of course, Father,” Frederick answered with a smile and entered his dressing room.
His valet, Mr. Withers, awaited him with dry clothes. “I have taken the liberty of ordering a bath for you, My Lord. The heated water should arrive any moment.”
“Observant as always, Mr. Withers. Thank you.”
“Not at all, My Lord. I simply happened to see you and Miss Merton take a tumble into the pond as I passed by the window.” Mr. Withers assisted Frederick in removing his soaked clothing and took them away to be washed.
Footmen arrived with the promised hot water, and Frederick washed himself from head to toe before donning the dry clothes his valet had selected for him. Not wishing to keep his father waiting any longer, Frederick hurried down to the library. He found his father there already poring over the books.
The Duke looked up at his son and smiled. “You have done well for yourself at Pentford. I can see that when I pass on, Chescrown will be in good hands.”
“Thank you, Father,” Frederick nodded his head in appreciation of his father’s words. The Duke had never been generous with compliments, so Frederick knew he meant what he said. “Are you satisfied with the handling of Aunt Rebecca’s annuities?”
“Yes, all appears to be in order there as well. Naturally, it would have been better for all if she had married, but it was never to be. Your mother’s father was always generous with his funding, and I see you have carried on in the same tradition,” the Duke noted, sighing over his sister-in-law’s unwed state.
Frederick’s Aunt Rebecca had been born with clubfeet and had suffered from it her entire life. Persons with physical deformities were not encouraged to be a part of polite society, and so she had lived a solitary, private life in a cottage on the edge of her father’s estate. Monies had been apportioned for her to provide for her care as was the custom for unwed female relatives.
“I shall pay her a visit upon my return and deliver this month’s annuity in person. She should be made aware of the poaching difficulties we have been having,” Frederick informed his father, sitting down in a chair across from the Duke’s desk.
“Quite so,” the Duke nodded in agreement. “We would not wish her to be caught unawares by the villains responsible.”
They spent the next hour going over the ledgers from both the Pentford and Chescrown estates. When they were done, Frederick left the library and entered the hall. The floor had been finished, and all evidence of Josephine’s presence had been removed. He hoped she had recovered from her near-drowning incident without further complications. To ensure that she had, Frederick went in search of her mother. He found her in the dining room preparing for luncheon.
“Mrs. Merton,” Frederick greeted cordially. “Excuse me for the interruption. I was hoping to ascertain if Josephine is well after our fall in the pond.”
“Yes, she will be fine. Thank you for saving my daughter’s life. I owe you a great debt, My Lord,” Mrs. Merton answered, curtsying deeply in gratitude.
“Not at all. ‘Tis my fault. I grabbed her as I fell. ‘Twas unthinking of me and I am most sorrowful for it,” Frederick admitted feeling ashamed for his part in the ordeal.
“Josephine told me she tripped you, but I thank you, all the same, My Lord.” Frederick nodded his head in acknowledgement of her words, then left the room.
* * *
