Grey wasn’t even going to finish that thought.
He was almost close enough to reach out his hand to her when there was another loud pop beneath him. He stilled for a moment, waiting to see if it would hold, and when nothing happened, he moved forward and reached out a hand to her. “Grab my hand! We have to hurry!”
She strained as she reached out to him, and as her fingers met his, he grabbed hold of her. “Swim toward me,” he instructed.
He could tell her strength was starting to wane, the cold making her immobile, but she was strong like her sister and with a combined effort, she finally lifted her torso up out of the water. Grey released the breath he’d been holding, but they weren’t free of danger just yet. He began to slide backward and pull her along with him as he went.
He thought that they might actually survive this, but just as her legs became free, the ominous sound of more cracking met his ears. “Dear God,” he breathed, as the ice began to give way beneath Olivia once more.
“Crawl to me, Olivia!Now!”
Fear shone in her green eyes, and he was starting to worry that she would be lost if they didn’t get away soon. She tried her best to struggle to her hands and knees, but she kept falling back to the ice, her sodden skirts impeding her progress. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he struggled to pull her and get her away from the perilous situation they found themselves in.
It came as a surprise when another masculine arm joined his. He didn’t even look to see who it was, merely thankful for the extra assistance.
Together the two men managed to pull Olivia to the safety of the nearest bank. Her bonnet was missing and her blond hair was lying about her shoulders in a tangled mess, but all of it was inconsequential. The main focus was getting her warm before a dangerous chill set in.
Grey glanced at Araminta who was standing to the side, tears shining in her eyes. He could tell she wanted to comfort her sister, and when the stranger lifted Olivia into his arms and began to walk toward a black lacquered coach, Grey grabbed hold of Araminta’s arm and said, “Go with them. I’ll follow in my carriage.”
She blinked, as if coming out of a daze and began to rush toward the retreating figure carrying Olivia.
Grey noted the crest on the coach and thought it odd that Miles Stone, the Duke of Gravesend, would be out at such a public gathering like this. He was known as the “Elusive Duke” because he was seldom seen among society following the injuries he’d sustained at Waterloo, which, if rumor was to be believed, were quite extensive. While he saw no outward impediment to the man, he knew quite well that not all injuries were visible.
Grey rushed toward the landau and ordered his driver to take him to Grosvenor Square posthaste.
Five
Just before the door of the coach shut in her face, Araminta stopped it with her palm. “I don’t know who you are, sir, but you aren’t going anywhere with my sister withoutme.”
The piercing obsidian eyes glared at her through the gloom. His dark hair was longer than was fashionable and tied back in a queue that was several years out of date, although his greatcoat and Hessians proclaimed that he was a gentleman. “Get in,” he rasped.
Araminta didn’t hesitate as she climbed inside, although she wondered what this man was about taking off with Olivia like he had. As he rapped on the roof of the velvet-lined coach, complete with carriage lanterns and all the amenities one might find among the wealthy, she demanded, “Does your driver know where you’re going? You didn’t even ask where we lived.”
“That’s because I don’t care,” he returned in that same husky murmur. “I’m taking her to see a personal, trusted physician.”
She crossed her arms and frowned. “That’s very presumptuous of you. Don’t you think that should be my choice to make?”
He eyed her steadily, his dark eyes boring straight through her soul. “You haven’t been in London long. Surely you wish to see her treated by a professional doctor rather than some surgical quack if you want her to live.”
Araminta couldn’t believe the audacity of this man. She’d believed him to be a savior, but he was turning out to be anything but a hero. “Who are you?”
He paused, as if he didn’t wish to answer, but then he said, “The Duke of Gravesend.”
“My father was a duke as well,” she pointed out. “But I can assure you that he was never quite so crass as to abduct someone’s sister, no matter the reason.”
He lowered his head, as if suddenly contrite, but then she realized that he was merely looking upon Olivia’s face. Her sister was still shivering uncontrollably, but her eyes were closed. It was difficult to tell if she was asleep or just doing her best to forget the harrowing incident. “She reminds me of someone I used to know, someone I couldn’t save,” he said softly.
This admission took Araminta aback. She wanted to know more, but decided she would let the rumor mill offer up those missing pieces, as it wasn’t her place to pry, nor was it the time.
The coach came to a halt and he said curtly, “We’re here.”
Without waiting for a footman to open the door, he climbed out with Olivia still clutched in his arms and strode up to the door of a building that proclaimed it belonged to Dr. Thierry Haimlin. Araminta was right behind him.
He pounded on the door with his foot and stood impatiently while he waited for his summons to be answered. Moments later a light-haired gentleman with glasses and who Araminta would guess was in his mid-thirties, stood in the frame dressed in buff trousers, a white cambric shirt, and a brown and gold waistcoat. “Your Grace—” Araminta wasn’t sure if he was more surprised to see the duke on his doorstep, or the fact he was holding an unconscious woman. Either way, he recovered quickly as he ushered them inside.
He led them to a simply furnished parlor where the duke laid Olivia gently down on the settee. “What happened?” The doctor inquired as he retrieved a black medical bag and began to examine her.
“She fell through the ice,” the duke returned somberly.
