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“You’re dreadful at this,” Iris remarked, gasping with laughter as he dropped the ball for a third time.

“I am learning,” Nathaniel said mid-quack.

As she watched him chase the ball through the long grass with his coat forgotten on the blanket and his cravat loose, Laura thought she had never seen him look younger or happier.

“Your turn,” he declared.

It was Iris’s turn to fetch a ball she’d sent sailing too wide, and in her scramble after it, she overbalanced near the lake’s edge, arms windmilling, a shriek escaping her lips as her feet slid in the muddy bank.

“Oh no!” she cried.

Laura moved instinctively to her side, lunging to catch her before she fell in. She grabbed the back of the girl’s dress just in time to pull her safely back onto solid ground.

However, she was not so lucky. Her own feet went out from under her on the same patch of mud, and she fell into the lake with a splash loud enough to send the ducks scattering into the early autumn sky, the water closing over her in one breathless shock.

She surfaced almost immediately, sputtering, and then burst into laughter despite the sheer indignity of it, weeds tangled in her loosened hair.

“I’m quite all right⁠—”

She never finished the sentence. Nathaniel hit the water beside her a second later, coat and all. His face was tight and pinched as he reached her, nothing at all like the easy warmth from a moment before. It was something akin to terror.

“Laura.” His hands found her shoulders, then her face, turning it toward him with a roughness that betrayed how frightened he was. “Laura, are you hurt? Can you breathe?”

“Nathaniel, I’m standing.” She caught his wrists, bewildered by his alarm. “The water barely reaches my chest. I only slipped⁠—”

He didn’t seem to hear her. He slid an arm beneath her and lifted her out of the water as though she weighed nothing, then waded back toward the bank.

“Nathaniel, truly, I am unharmed.”

“Miss Borden!” His voice cracked out, sharp and commanding.

The governess hurried down from the willows and gathered Iris against her skirts.

“Take Iris inside. Now.”

“Uncle Nathaniel, is Laura going to be all right?” Iris asked, her voice small and shaky.

Laura, dripping and mortified, wanted badly to reassure her. But before she could open her mouth, Nathaniel turned around and made for the castle with her held tight against his soaked chest, his shoulders rigid with tension.

“I’ll be quite well,” she called back over his shoulder, as reassuringly as she could. “I promise, Iris. I only got wet!”

“Enough,” Nathaniel growled. “You must rest, Laura,” he added more softly, resting his chin atop her head.

He did not put her down. Not when he crossed the meadow, not when he climbed the terrace steps, and not when he walked through the entrance hall, where two footmen froze at the sight of them both soaked through.

Laura could feel the frantic beat of his heart beneath her cheek, far too fast for the length or difficulty of the walk. When she glanced up at his face, she found his jaw locked so tight it looked painful. His dark brown eyes were fixed ahead, something wild and shattered flickering in them.

“Nathaniel.” She said it softly this time, no longer arguing to be put down, only trying to reach whatever part of him had gone somewhere she couldn’t follow. “I am truly fine. Are you all right?”

He didn’t answer. His arms only tightened around her, as though he didn’t believe her. It was almost as though some part of him was still back in the lake, bracing for a very different outcome.

He carried her all the way to her chamber and set her down only once they’d crossed the threshold. Even then, his hands lingered a moment on her waist before he seemed to remember himself and pulled them back as though burned.

Only then did Laura notice how badly his hands were shaking.

“Oh, Nathaniel…”

“Someone see to Her Grace at once. Hot water, dry linens, a fire built up,” he called to a maid already hurrying up the corridor. “She’s to be warmed through properly. I want it seen to now.”