She could have melted.
When they drew near the party, Edmund and two of the coachmen were waiting, every bit as soaked as she and Eli were.
“Has she fainted?” her brother hollered.
“Of course I haven’t,” Jane called back, insulted. She’d never fainted in her life. “My skirts got so muddy it was hard to walk back, that’s all. You can put me down now, please.”
Eli’s arms tensed around her as if he intended to refuse, and herheart jumped into a panicked speed. But a second later, he set her safely back on earth.
Poor Edmund was white as a sheet and his teeth were chattering.
“What are you doing outside?” she asked him. “Why on earth didn’t you get in the clarence?”
“Well someone had to calm the horses, didn’t they? The thunder spooked them.”
“We tried to tell him we had it under control, miss,” said the first coachman, John. “But he wouldn’t listen.”
“Never mind, just go inside and dry off.” Reason would be impossible where horses were involved.
Eli stepped forward and took his mount’s reins from Edmund, who disappeared into the clarence.
“I…um…need to borrow your coat a bit longer.”
“Yes, I should think you need it more than I do.” He was obviously battling the urge to say more, but finally settled on: “Let’s get moving so you can dry off before a hot fire.”
“Won’t you be cold riding in just your shirt? Let me get you a blanket, at least.”
She fetched several from the servants’ carriage, for Eli as well as the two coachmen who’d been out with the horses, then she took the last for herself and darted back inside to safety.
“Good heavens, Jane,” her uncle exclaimed as she took the spot next to him on the bench. “You look like you survived Noah’s flood. You’ll catch your death!”
“I’m not the only one.”
Edmund sat opposite, white and shivering from the rain.
“I don’t know why you insisted on staying with the horses,” Jane scolded. “You’re the only one whochoseto be drenched.”
Edmund said nothing, growing lumpish beneath her scrutiny.
“Here.” After a glance down to make sure Eli’s coat still preservedher modesty, Jane handed the blanket off to her brother. “I’ve got Eli’s morning coat. You should take it.”
He must have been freezing, for he accepted the offer without any protest. Lately, he resisted Jane’s attempts to fuss over him. He’d been so much easier when he was younger.
Uncle Bertie watched them with affection. “I do love when you two are kind to each other.”
Edmund’s only response was to roll his eyes.
The carriage lurched forward as they resumed their voyage. It was only another seven miles to Sunninghill, but the roads were now muddy and they had to stop partway when a wheel got stuck. The result was that Jane had plenty of time to sit and stew over what she’d just done. As they rode farther from the scene of her indiscretion, the spell that had held her and Eli hostage faded away, and the memory that remained seemed like utter lunacy.
Nine
At first, Eli was grateful for the rain. It had given him the most magnificent view of his life, and then done him the service of killing his cockstand (which would otherwise have made for a very uncomfortable ride). But by the time they reached the Lindens’ house, Eli’s gratitude was extinguished. He was cold, he was soggy, and he wanted nothing more than to get himself indoors.
The Lindens greeted their party with a great fuss for those who’d gotten wet, and Jane was immediately ushered from his sight toward a hot bath somewhere.
The house was a simple, cozy place with plaster walls painted in cheery shades of mostly cream, yellow, and blue. He and Edmund were sharing a narrow room at the end of the first story, as were the two girls. Both the married couples had only one room each. Only Mr. Bishop had a space to himself.
“We’re terribly sorry,” Miss Linden said as she showed him upstairs. She was a small, thin woman with graying hair and a high voice, who greatly resembled a sparrow. “I wish we could give you more privacy, Lieutenant. It’s not a very large house.”
