When the picnic came to an end and every last morsel of roast duck and ham pie, each crusty roll, and every spoonful of stewed fruit and forkful of plum cake had been devoured, it was time to row back. For propriety’s sake, everyone switched partners, and now she was with Lord Mercer.
“I thought you would arrange for me to be with one of the other two single men,” she said as he helped her into the boat.
“Not likely. I don’t trust either of them. Only Wesley was good enough for you, despite being ungainly as a newborn colt.”
“Goodenough for me?” She settled onto the seat and started to open her parasol.
“Yes, recall your father hopes you find a husband. I thought Wesley might be a suitable match. Nice enough fellow and looking for a wife.”
“I see.” That made her feel better in a way. He hadn’t dismissed her company out of hand but had her best interest in mind. Yet she would have preferred if Lord Mercer had her heart as his own target rather than hoping she gave it elsewhere.
A black blob appeared before her eyes, and she realized a spider had crawled into her parasol when it was resting against the walnut tree and was now dangling over her. Miranda knew it was foolish, but her aversion to spiders was intense.
Shrieking, she watched it descend toward her lap and tried to scrabble out of the way.
“Stop moving,” Lord Mercer ordered.
She didn’t answer but scooted right, then left, before finally dropping her parasol and standing.
“Miss Bright!” he admonished as the rowboat tilted. “Sit down.”
The spider crawled out from under the silken folds of her parasol, moving directly toward her.
Feeling as if her skin were crawling, too, she yelled again and tried to move away.
“Miss Bright!” he exclaimed again as the boat tilted in the other direction.
Too late!
The boat that was already rocking with her erratic movements tipped over as she leaned away from the creepy-crawly, spilling her and Lord Mercer directly into the Thames.
Chapter Twelve
“The deuce!” Philip exclaimed, foregoing the boat to save Miranda.
In two strokes he was by her side. The bank fell away steeply, and he couldn’t touch the bottom. However, by treading water while holding her around the waist, he was able to keep them both from sinking.
“What on earth?” he demanded, while the female fish he’d caught spluttered out river water.
“A spider,” she said, sounding sheepish and splashing her hands on the surface, apparently unable to swim.
“A spider!” He hadn’t meant to yell, but really!What a ninny!
“I’ve lost my new parasol,” she complained.
“And I’ve lost my patience,” he said, kicking out toward the narrow dock from where they’d embarked. “Grab on,” he said.
Luckily, although the other guests and their hosts were well away already, a footman remained who was able to help her out of the water. Then Philip hoisted himself up onto the dock. They sat side-by-side watching the bubbles come out from the boat as it drifted away.
“Are you well?” yelled Lord Coxley from many yards down the river.
“We are fine,” Philip called out.
“Take our carriage back to Kew,” Coxley yelled.
Philip rose to his feet, offering her his hand and drawing her up beside him.
“That was not well done of you,” he scolded, then closed his mouth, speechless as he viewed her full figure outlined by her sodden gown.
