Regret contorted his handsome features just before he disappeared beneath the water. Regret because he obviously knew that he’d been unable to prevent a very unfortunate accident from occurring.
And he’d had the right of it for, pulled by his momentum before he’d released her hand, Rhoda dove into the water head first after him.
The water was not merely cold! It was glacial, arctic, bitterly unwelcoming. Rhoda knew better than to gasp but found it impossible when one’s entire body submerged without warning. She swallowed a mouthful of water and frantically swirled about. For too many seconds, she couldn’t tell which way she needed to go to reach the surface.
And then a hand appeared before her face.
Gratefully, she took hold of it and was tugged upward until breaking the surface.
Air. She took in a few gasping breaths and began shivering at the same time.
And now that she’d been tipped back to vertical, her feet found the bottom easily. Murky sludge globbed onto the bottoms of the delicate slippers Lucy had so diligently cleaned earlier.
Well, at least she wouldn’t drown!
But oh, her dress had likely been ruined and her hair hung about her in long shining strands. Glancing down, she grimaced in disgust. Green slimy vegetation had attached itself to her hands and arms. Goose flesh appeared as she peeled them away.
“I’m drenched!”
Surprisingly, these words didn’t emerge from Rhoda, nor even Mr. White, but from Miss Redfield, who was slowly drifting away as the rope loosely tying the boat to the jetty had come untied.
When Mr. White looked as though he might swim after her, a shout from Lord Stanton, who was rowing another lady on the water, stopped him. “We’ll tow her in, Carlisle!”
Rhoda’s teeth chattered, and a violent shiver rolled through her, yet she still couldn’t help finding humor in Miss Redfield’s plight. Other boaters hailed her to sit still, and all the while, the silly miss complained loudly that she’d been splashed when Miss Mossant jumped into the water.
“I’m going to catch my death, for certain. And even worse, my dress is ruined! And my bonnet even!” The whiney complaints decreased in volume as the craft slowly drifted away toward the center of the lake.
And then a sturdy arm dropped around Rhoda’s shoulders. The warmth of Mr. White’s much larger frame effectively subdued her shivers as he guided her to the bank a few feet away.
“I am so sorry, Miss Mossant. This is all my fault. I feel horrible. I imagine your gown is ruined. Oh, hell, and your shoes.” His own shoes squished in the mud, but he didn’t seem concerned with his condition nearly so much as with hers.
“I’ll be fine.” And then she deliberately added, “My lord.” He was an earl now. He was no longer the humble vicar she’d met at Priory Point.
“I know this is wet,” he explained, removing his jacket, “but I think it would be best to get you covered.” His eyes were looking everywhere but at her.
Rhoda glanced down. Pulling her dress away from her skin, she flinched to see how transparent the material had become. Oh, yes, he had a point.
She gratefully slid her arms into his sodden jacket. “Well.” She didn’t know quite what to say. “That was one way to get rid of her.”
Glancing up, she caught her breath. Beneath his waistcoat, his linen shirt had plastered itself to his arms and chest. His lordship, the former humble vicar, must have spent many hours laboring with his flock. Sinewy muscles showed through the material. Although Rhoda remembered considering him handsome enough, she’d not really allowed herself to consider him in thatway. She wondered why not.
He was now an earl. Was it possible that she was so shallow as to view him differently for this? Of course, a man’s status in the world mattered greatly to young ladies. It wasn’t as if women could provide for themselves or a family. They’d be fools to not consider this aspect of the gentlemen they met.
And yet seeing him thus hadn’t affected her mind so much as… what was he saying to her? “Pardon, my lord?”
“You don’t think I would do this intentionally?” He stared at her reproachfully. His blond hair, now drenched, appeared darker.
Such brilliant blue eyes, though. She blinked in an attempt to clear her vision. Even while frowning at her, he seemed angelic somehow. Pure.
“Do you?”
“Believe you would deliberately cause such discomfort? You? Never! I was simply pointing out the silver lining to all of this.” She gestured to her sodden gown.
Talking to him with his jacket draped over her shoulders, her chemise and… other things clearly visible to anyone who dared to look, Rhoda felt even more tarnished than normal.
He was watching the activity across the pond. She could tell he was fighting guilt at not hauling Miss Redfield back himself. Miss Redfield’s boat no longer drifted aimlessly. The good Samaritans who’d volunteered their services were now towing her in.
“She’s not in any danger. And I suppose they’ll return her to dry land soon enough,” he conceded with a grimace. Rhoda couldn’t help but stare at his mouth. She shook her head to dismiss her surprisingly wayward thoughts.
