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The last time her brother Simon had threatened to evict them, Eden had seriously considered Vicar Wright’s proposal. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to say yes, even if it meant an assurance Mama would have somewhere to live.
Despite her conscience pealing an alarm, she met Lord Sterling’s inquisitive gaze.
My, he had the loveliest eyes. She could get quite lost in their intriguing depths.
Rogue or gentleman?
What did it matter?
She’d already made up her mind.
An innocent friendship. Nothing more.
There couldn’t be.
“I should like that, my lord, as well. As long as we stay well within propriety’s strictures.”
That ought to make her position clear.
“Might you consider addressing me as Chester when we are alone?”
Brow cocked, she gave him a starchy glance.
Was he testing the limits already?
“You know perfectly well that’s outside the bounds.”
He chuckled, a wonderful raffish echo in that chest she knew to be nicely muscled. When the wheels hit an uneven board and jostled the cart, he gripped the seat. Probably not used to having his manly bum bounced about.
“It is,” he said. “But friends are permitted privileges, are they not?”
“I suppose they are. But only small concessions.”
Shushing her conscience’s frenetic warnings about foolhardy decisions, she returned his easy-going grin. For the briefest instant. Then a startled gasp tore from her fear-constricted throat.
“Oh, no!”
The eerie crack of first one plank, then another, and then another rent the moist air and stalled her breathing. If the dogcart spilled into the churning stream-turned-river, Mr. Wiggles and Peony might drown.
So might she and his lordship.
“Get off, my lord. Now!”
Eden released the reins and scampered from the wagon as did Lord Sterling without a jot of hesitation
“Help me push.” Neither very big nor strong, she couldn’t budge the vehicle on her own. “We must get the wheel free. Hurry.”
He positioned his shoulder behind the cart, tension accenting the slashing angles of his cheeks.
“Walk on, Peony, walk on,” she shouted whilst giving the cart another hard shove.
The caught wheel suddenly came loose and bounced forward.
Unbalanced, arms flailing, and her heart pounding in her throat, she tottered backward.
Then . . . off the bridge.
“Eden!”
A torrent of freezing water engulfed her, and she struggled against the weight of her saturated cloak and gown. Terror momentarily paralyzed her. A panic-born burst of energy assailed her, and she fought in vain to reach the surface just a couple of feet above her.
It might as well have been a score.
The relentless current yanked and tugged, forcing her head under again and again.
She choked and gasped, seeking purchase on something, anything, to gain her footing and lift her face from the pummeling.
Time slowed, inching forward, the roaring in her ears growing ever louder and more insistent.
Her hair caught, jerking her head so sharply, she cried out. Rushing water promptly filled her mouth and lungs. The unbearable pressure in her chest crushed her lungs.
