Pushing his head down against the blustering winds, he pressed on heavily.
It was almost thirty minutes before the village came into sight. Scattered villagers in the driving rain, trying to shelter their crying children, their faces pale and terrified. The wind howled, and he leaned forward to combat its roaring power.
In the village, the banks of the river truly had burst, and water flooded the houses. Men, farmers, and greengrocers alike charged into ramshackle structures, rescuing those who wereclinging on desperately in the several feet of icy water. A child washed down the torrent of hefty flooding, hands grasping and thin voice wailing above the groan of the storm. Sebastian didn’t hesitate for a second, wading through the current and scooping the child into his arms. She trembled, freezing cold, looping her thin arms around his neck as he soothed her.
She had no clue who he was—he was just a man who had saved her.
Here, nothing mattered. Not rank, not reputation, not wealth. They meant nothing in the realm of life or death.
“Here!” Sebastian panted as the wind whipped his hood, handing the child to a woman. She stood in the square where many other villagers were gathered, her cheeks wet with rain or tears. As though on instinct, her arms rose to accept the girl in his arms. “Find her mother, if possible!”
Then he plunged back into the worst of it.
For what felt like hours, he toiled with the other men, rescuing stranded families, carrying the elderly on his back to high ground, and carrying baskets of sodden chickens to safety. The cattle and goats and pigs were trickier, but all could swim with encouragement. Many were exhausted, struggling to make it through the currents to dry land.
Sebastian’s limbs ached. His arms groaned with pain, and his legs and core felt as though they had been pummeled. As thelight faded and rain also began to ease, the bulk of his work came to an end.
Soon, the water flowing through the village would ease. Flash floods did that—they came suddenly, and left just as abruptly. But there would be back-breaking work left to do in the interim. Shattered glass from shopfronts and dozens of gutted houses. Furniture littered the sides of the pathways.
“Your Grace,” a rotund, ruddy-cheeked man huffed, finally taking a good look at him.
Sebastian could only imagine how he appeared, covered in muck and grime, wet through, but evidently, even a layer of dirt couldn’t prevent them from recognizing him eventually. He straightened to his full height and touched his head, where in ordinary days a hat might lie. “I hope everyone is safe.”
“They are, sir, but—” The man glanced about. “We had not a clue you were here. If you had let us know, we could have taken you somewhere safe—”
“There was a job to be done,” Sebastian put in firmly.
“Leave him be, Jeremiah.” A woman strode to them, her skirts damp and ripped, and her hair sticking to her cheeks. In her arms, she carried the girl Sebastian had saved earlier. “We’re much indebted to you, Your Grace, and if there’s anything we can do for you, you may be sure we’ll do it.”
“Thank you.” He blew a heavy breath, then looked across at the bedraggled people. “How many of you have lost your homes in today’s storm?”
Slowly, a collection of hands rose into the air. He nodded. “Then if you wish, you may come to Ravenhall Manor for a hot meal and a place to sleep.”
Murmurs rose around him, of suspicion and dissent, which he largely ignored. They could choose to turn down his offer if they wanted, or if they still thought him a murderer. But the offer would forever remain, no matter what the prevailing sentiment toward him was. They were his people, and their livelihoods had been destroyed, while he had not only a place to sleep tonight, but more rooms than he could ever use, and vast kitchens.
Cook would be unhappy, but he would be sure to pay handsomely for the extra work.
The only wildcard was Aurelia—what would she think? He hoped she would be gracious and welcoming, something he could not have expected of Kate.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” one man among the throng of spectators abruptly stepped forth, a child in his arms. “Speaking for me and the wife—we accept.”
Other voices joined this man’s, people hungry and cold and eager for a warm place to stay. So many houses had been nearly washed away, and several tree branches had fallen to destroy whatever had endured the worst of the flooding. In the failinglight, there was little more they could do tonight. Tomorrow, Sebastian would return to help clear the debris from the streets and to assess how many houses had survived.
“All are welcome,” he called out once more, trudging back to the path that led to Ravenhall Manor. He would go on ahead and alert the staff. They would have to section off rooms, and—
A figure emerged from the gloom and flung itself at him. In his surprise, he caught her, finding Aurelia looking up at him, her face pale in the approaching dusk. Her hair was dry; she must have left the house once the rain had stopped.
“Sebastian!” Her hands shook as they gripped his shoulders. “You’re all right!”
“Of course I’m all right.” He took her warm hands in his, cupping them gently. “It was just a storm, Aurelia.”
“Just a storm?” Her eyes flashed. “A tree came down across the kitchen garden walls. Lightning struck the glasshouse—it’s fortunate the gardener was nowhere in sight! Mr. Fellows tells me he has not seen a storm this bad here indecades, and you decided to venture out in it alone?”
As impish as ever.
“Ought I have taken you with me?” He chuckled throatily at her, trying to make sense of her world. Behind him, the villagers were gathering their things. “There’s no time for this now. I’ve invitedall those who require shelter to the house. We should return and prepare.”
For a long moment, he thought she would disoblige him, making a scene in front of everyone watching. Instead, she drew herself up as a Duchess might.This was not the time for public disputes, she seemed to say. But her eyes promised future retribution.
