Then Phoebe, too, was hauled onto the narrow pontoon where she watched in a numb haze as her rescuer rolled Matilda onto her side. For a moment, there was only a deathly hush, when even the lantern boats seemed to still until, finally, there was a small cough and a splutter.
The crowd exhaled in abject relief.
‘Give her your cloaks,’ the rescuer muttered. ‘She needs comfort and warmth.’
Aunt Higglestone was beside her in a heartbeat, throwing her arms around Matilda’s limp form, before wrapping her in a dozen proffered cloaks. Then, as the crowd closed around them, he stood up.
Phoebe drew in a ragged breath. His hair was soaked, his shirt glued to his chest, and there was canal water dripping from his pantaloons. He looked every inch a Michelangelo that had been left out in the rain, yet there was no mistaking his stony expression, either.
‘You are the original head-in-the clouds-schoolroom-chit who has run away and found out the world is nothing like the inside of a novel! Such behaviour in young ladies of quality would be reprehensible to many gentlemen with a name and reputation to protect.’
His words resonated between them as she stared, unable to believe that he was the rescuer. And that she was destined to be the object of his disapproval too. Gritting her teeth, she pulled a long piece of pond weed from her hair, acutely aware that she’d defended a right to swim in her petticoats earlier.
She drew a hollow breath.
‘Sir… I cannot thank you enough … that was…’ She faltered, unsure what to say to a glacial viscount turned unexpected rescuer, twice in a matter of weeks.
‘Anyone would have done the same, Miss Fairfax,’ he replied in a chilled tone. ‘What is perhaps less understandable, is yourtheftof a horse while––’
To Phoebe’s horror, he broke off to lean forward and inhale, with exactly the same expression she first saw at the roadside.
‘––under the influence,again.’
‘Then let us hope she remains as incurious as possible, for there are few things less appealing than a lady who likes her liquor.’
The injustice of his accusation was such that no heated retort or witty comeback seemed appropriate. Instead, Phoebe could only eye him with bristling resentment, as he retrieved his evening coat and squelched back up the bank.
‘Phoebe! Wrap a cloak around yourself, child, or you’ll catch your death, too!’ Aunt Higglestone fretted, suddenly beside her. ‘We’ve sent for a carriage, and the sooner we get you both home and properly warmed the better! Oh, what a thing to happen!’ she added, her voice cracking. ‘I know I mustn’t be maudlin, dearest, your uncle detests it so, butthank goodnessyou were nearby! And Viscount Damerel, too, what a surprise that was! I can’t imagine what we would have done if you hadn’t––’
She broke off her pink-eyed lamenting to stare as a riderless chestnut mare trotted past them, whinnying reproachfully.
Phoebe closed her eyes and exhaled, wondering what had happened to their small pleasurable excursion.
Of one thing she was certain – as soon as her aunt knew all the facts, she would ban her from outings for the rest of her woeful little life.
ChapterThirteen
Seven weeks and suspecting the captain again until the wedding
Phoebe was banned from all outings for the rest of her woeful little life.
Or as least she would have been, had it not been for the arrival of the jovial Captain Damerel with an armful of yellow roses, the following afternoon.
‘I came as soon as I thought you might all be recovered enough to receive visitors.’ He smiled at his welcoming committee, who were assembled decorously in Aunt Higglestone’s best sitting room.
‘Well, Sophie is quite well enough,’ Matilda grinned, ‘but Phoebe and I have red noses, and Josephine has a cough, so she’s not allowed to go anywhere.’
‘Matilda!’ their aunt scolded, before smiling wanly at the captain. ‘It is lovely to see you again, Captain Damerel. As you can see, the girls are all nearly recovered, save for one of my nieces, who has a tendency towards bronchospasms and is abed for a few days. She wasn’t involved in theincident, but I fear the evening air may have exacerbated her condition. I should not have taken her, I fear, but it is hard when one is blessed with such lively nieces!’
Then she sniffed so woefully that Phoebe felt twice as guilty as she already did.
‘It wasn’t your fault, Aunt,’ she reassured, trying to avoid another monologue of self-reproach. ‘Josephine catches a cold if we so much as open a window at home, and as for the rest,well, Mama used to say Matilda and I have a talent for drama!’
Phoebe had spared her aunt the unabridged version of her evening’s excursion, including the hallucinatory snuff and Aurelia’s very deliberate provocation, but there was no avoiding the horse theft or the viscount’s pursuit – which had resulted in his being there when Matilda fell into the canal.
Both her relations were suitably aghast when they’d heard the story, a reaction somewhat offset by Josephine’s pronouncement that Phoebe hadstillsaved Matilda’s life, horse theft or not; until it became clear that while half the ton had indeed witnessed her daring rescue, many more had glimpsed her careering through the gardens, clinging to the neck of a feral chestnut mare.
‘Which only goes to prove that no one of consequence should ever trust a pony at a public picnic!’ her aunt bemoaned into her fourth kerchief of the morning.
