Page 72 of Miss Devon’s Choice

“It’s going to be in the basin,” she said, pointing. “How will we reach it?”

Christian sighed and looked into the water. “If I take off my shoes and stockings, I don’t think I will get anything wet.” He sat down on the rim of the water feature and began to do just that.

Rebecca’s eyebrows shot up, her cheeks turned pink, and she raised her eyes to the fountain. “I don’t think you will be able to reach it. And you are too large to climb it.”

“It isn’t that high.” He spun around, lifting his legs over the edge, and stood. The water lapped against his legs at the sudden disturbance to its surface, and barely met the edge of his trousers. Christian shuffled through it, shuddering once from the cold, and looked up at the statue—it was out of reach.

He knew it now, up close, but he put his hand up anyway, standing on his toes. His fingertips brushed the rim of Hestia’s bowl of fire, but that was all. He stepped back and considered the water, shaking his head. The tiers were too delicate to risk standing on them to climb up.

“Any ideas?” he asked, fisting his hands on his hips.

“Jump?” she asked.

He looked again and shook his head. “If I catch the basin, it’s carved delicately enough it could snap.”

She hesitated, biting her bottom lip.

“You have an idea. I can tell.” He tried to smile at her, tried to tease, but she didn’t appear amused in the slightest. Her gaze was fixed on the statue’s basin.

“Can you lift me that high?” Rebecca asked.

He felt heat creep up his neck. “What?”

Her face had changed color to a rosy hue, nearly matching the red and pink flowers surrounding them. “I was thinking of when you put me into the gig before. You—you’re very strong.” She bit her lip and lowered her eyes. “It’s a foolish idea. We—we probably should just find a ladder or something.”

There was no safe place to lean a ladder, Christian knew. He studied Rebecca, then the fountain, and began to shuffle through the water back to her side. He started unbuttoning his coat.

The riddle had mentioned mettle. Perhaps it had meant a long hook, or rod, to reach into the basin. But Rebecca’s idea had merit and would be faster than searching out something to blindly prod the basin with.

“I am going to ask you to stand on the fountain wall,” Christian said, keeping his voice even and his tone sensible. “Then will sit against my shoulder and I’ll lift you. I cannot hold you directly overhead, but this will work, I think. I will walk you to the fountain and you can peer inside the bowl.”

Her eyes darted around the enclosed garden and then up to the house. A convenient tree blocked where they stood from any windows, and they had seen no one else outside on their walk. The risk of discovery was minimal, and truly, what did it matter? Her reputation was safe with him. Christian would marry Rebecca tomorrow, if he could.

“What are you grinning about?” she asked, slightly accusatory. “This isn’t very amusing, Christian.”

He cleared his throat and tried for a sober expression. “Not at all. But it is the simplest solution.” Her eyes dropped to the water. “Rebecca,” he said, and she raised her gaze immediately to his, her brows drawn together. “I won’t let you fall,” he promised.

Taking in a deep breath, Rebecca nodded. He laid his jacket on the ground next to the fountain, then held her hand to assist her onto the little ledge. He sat on the stone, and she hesitantly lowered herself onto his shoulder.

“Put your right hand on my other shoulder and raise the left out for balance,” he instructed, then came carefully to his feet. Rebecca wobbled for a moment, but he held still and they found their equilibrium. Christian shuffled through the water to the fountain.

Rebecca’s slim hand held tight to his shoulder and she spoke not a word, but he could feel how strained her body remained.

It was the most improper thing he had done since coming to England as a youth. He had never stepped a toe out of line, never broken a single of his grandfather’s rules, and kept within the bounds society had set. But none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not when it came to Rebecca.

“There is something in the bowl,” Rebecca said when he was still a step away. When he stopped, she gripped his shoulder tighter with her right hand while the left reached forward. “I have it,” she cried out.

Christian didn’t hold back his grin this time. “Wonderful. Hold on a moment longer, until you’re on dry ground again.” He retraced his careful steps, his arms wrapped around her slim legs, and in a few moments he was sitting again and she stepped lightly to the ledge, then jumped down to the stone walk.

“What is the treasure?” Christian asked, putting his feet back on dry ground. He reached for his coat, watching her with pleasure.

Rebecca held a dripping wet object to him, and it flashed gold in the sunlight. It was a simple gold bangle, dotted with red and white stones.

“It’s lovely,” he said, impressed that the prize was something of actual value. “And it will suit you.”

Rebecca hesitated, then examined the lovely piece of jewelry. “I suppose it would better suit a woman than a man.” She slipped it on her wrist and held her arm out for his inspection. “What do you think?” Her smile had returned, as well as her levity, and Christian relaxed.

“Perfect. You must wear it to dinner tonight, to show we’ve won the prize.”