“Fine. Fine, be ridiculous and thoughtless,” Mr.Dean grumbles.
Rosalie risks a glance his way and finds him staring broodily down at the water, no longer watching her. Shutting her out.
She needs to escalate. How can she escalate from here?
Her mother is shouting something from the dock, but she can’t hear that. Shewon’thear that.
“I bet I can stand on one leg,” she says loudly.
“No!” Henrietta says.
“Rosalie, that’s a terrible idea,” Amalie shouts.
“You need to sit down right this—” Mr.Dean starts.
But she’s already lifted her left leg...
And promptly goes toppling sideways into the freezing river.
Rosalie comes up spluttering, gasping with shock and laughter. It’s painfully cold. And wet. How wonderfully ridiculous. She’s fallen into the river. Of course she knew it was a possibility, but she didn’t think it would actually happen.
Damn, it’s cold!
She blinks up at her boat to find Mr.Dean glaring down at her. Henrietta and Mr.Rile are scrambling beside him to throw something to her while she treads water. Her skirts are heavy, and her bonnet is making it hard to see all that much. Her chest clenches painfully in the cold.
A thought comes to her unbidden: A man who was in love with her would be concerned. A man who was in love with her would put aside his frustration and do something to help. A man who was in love with her would be jumping into the—
SPLASH.
Rosalie revolves in the water, leaning her head back so she can see under the rim of her bonnet. And there’s Catherine, bonnetless, swimming toward her, glowering.
“What on earth are you doing?” Rosalie calls. Of all the absurd, silly—
“Getting you into the boat, you absolute fool,” Catherine hisses as she reaches her.
She ducks under Rosalie’s shoulder so she’s half supporting her, dragging her quickly back toward Henrietta and Mr.Rile’s reaching hands. She’s helping Rosalie swim, even though she doesn’t need it.
Just as they reach her boat and each grab on, lightly, careful not to tip Mr. Dean, Henrietta, and Mr. Rile over, Christopher’s boat pens them in on the other side.
“MissLinet, come over to our boat so you don’t get wet,” Mr.Dean says, beckoning Amalie to step over their heads and into his boat, even as Henrietta gapes over at him. “Mr.Tisend, help MissPine and your sister into yours, so the other ladies don’t get wet and sick.”
Rosalie glances at Catherine, who looks back, still glaring, but with a twitch to her lips. That is perhaps the least chivalrous, rudest thing he could possibly have done.
“Get in here,” Christopher says.
Rosalie and Catherine twirl around. Rosalie helps push Catherine up and into the boat with Mr.Sholle and Christopher’s help. And then clambers up herself, fully clumsy and not at all ladylike.
They sit there, sopping wet and freezing cold, staring at each other, eyes wide. Catherine starts laughing when Mr.Sholle places a blanket around her shoulders, and Rosalie can’t help but follow. Christopher drapes another blanket over her shoulders and undoes her bonnet. He pulls the blanket over her head, laughing, and Rosalie adjusts it, looking back at him with a grin.
“Back to the docks, as fast as you can,” Mr.Dean grunts to Mr.Sholle and Mr.Rile, gesturing for them to paddle quickly.
“What on earth were you thinking?” Christopher asks Rosalie as they speed toward the dock, where she can see both their mothers waiting, furious.
“It seemed like fun. I haven’t been having enough fun lately,” she says with a shrug that just makes him laugh harder.
“That’s absurd,” Catherine says.
Rosalie looks back at her, her wet hair plastered to her cheek, the blanket wrapped up and over her head, her fingers lightly blue.
