Chapter 11
Benedict crossed the north pasture toward the river, a blanket tucked under one arm and a toy sailboat in each hand. Shep trotted alongside him, ears pricked and alert to the distant sounds of lowing cattle and birds. At Benedict’s other side, one of his footmen, Wesley, carried a small pile of towels and a long pole with a fishing net attached to one end. The towels were a precautionary measure. Benedict had no desire to get wet, particularly in the cold river, but experience told him that the chances of escaping that fate while racing toy boats were virtually nil. For that reason, he’d also donned his work boots, along with a pair of tan breeches and a navy jacket that could withstand a dousing.
“This spot will work nicely,” he said, spreading the blanket out beneath a tree whose branches hung over the river. “Set the towels here, Wesley, and then you and I will walk a little farther downstream to determine where the race should end.”
The young footman deposited the towels on one corner of the blanket. Benedict placed the boats beside them, and then the two of them and the dog began walking along the riverbank. The water was back to its normal level, and even though it was likely six or seven feet deep at its center, the river was not much more than two feet deep at its banks. Benedict eyed the shoreline approvingly. The shallower water was just the right depth for a boat race.
They reached a fallen tree. A portion of the trunk lay over the river, the branches appearing as a tangled mass beneath the surface of the water.
“Chances are, the boats will become caught in the branches if we let them get this far,” Benedict said. He turned back the way they’d come and pointed to a large rock jutting out of the bank. “I say the first boat to pass that boulder is declared the winner. That gives us a yard or two to catch the boat before it reaches the downed tree.”
“Very good, my lord.” Wesley set the pole on the grass. “Can’t say that I’ve ever gone fishing for sailboats before, but they can’t be as hard to catch as minnows, can they?”
Benedict grinned. “I certainly hope not. But given the job ahead, I’m glad to know you are an experienced fisherman.”
This activity was definitely beyond the normal scope of the footman’s work, but Wesley was a country lad and had barely batted an eyelid when Benedict had handed him the long pole with the net attached.
“Lord Benting!” Meg’s voice reached him from the gate.
Benedict turned to see Caroline latching it closed behind her. He started back toward the blanket. Meg was already running toward him, her floral frock fluttering around her legs. Caroline followed at a more sedate pace. She was dressed in a blue gown, and its simple cut suggested that she, too, had chosen to wear something that could bear getting a little wet. Her straw bonnet shaded her face, but as she drew nearer, he noticed there was no veil attached, and his heart lifted to know that she’d made that choice of her own volition.
“Good afternoon!” he greeted them warmly.
Shep bounded over to Meg, his tail wagging.
“It’s Shep!” Meg laughed delightedly.
“Be careful, Meg,” Caroline warned.
Benedict raised his fingers to his mouth, but before he could issue a commanding whistle, Shep’s forward momentum stopped, and he dropped to his haunches in front of the little girl. With his tail yet wagging furiously, Shep gave a welcoming bark. Meg patted the dog’s head. Shep sniffed her hand and then gave it a lick. Meg giggled, and with bemusement, Benedict lowered his arm. It appeared that his so-called working dog had fallen under Meg’s spell as quickly as he had.
“Good afternoon.” Caroline reached him. Spotting the boats on the blanket, she smiled. “Those diminutive vessels look familiar.”
He chuckled. “They do seem smaller than they used to, don’t they?”
“Yes. Although spending time at the harbor in Portsmouth has probably influenced my perspective too.”
“Undoubtedly.” He picked up the boats. “Which color would you like, Meg? Red or blue?”
“Um.” Meg gazed at the boats, seeming to take the decision very seriously. “I think blue.”
“Good choice,” Caroline whispered.
Benedict raised his eyebrows in mock consternation. “I beg your pardon. The red boat and I have something to prove, and we intend to do just that.”
Caroline laughed, and he was doubly grateful that the veil was gone so he could see the amusement on her face.
“Meg and I accept the challenge, my lord.”
“Excellent.” He pointed to Wesley, who had remained by the pole a few yards downstream. “You see my footman there?”
Caroline nodded.
“We’ll set the boats in the water here, and the first one to pass the boulder near Wesley’s feet is the winner. Wesley will then use the fishing net to draw them out of the river—hopefully, before the boats encounter the tree limbs.”
“What? No wading in after them?” Caroline teased.
“I make no promises on that score, but I should like it to go on record that I made a good-faith effort to keep everyone dry.”
Caroline laughed again, and he found that he liked the sound very much.
“What do we do now?” Meg asked.
“We put the boats in the water at the same time and see which one reaches Wesley first,” Benedict said.
“The blue one,” Meg announced confidently.
“You never can tell.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “It may be that the red boat surprises you.”
Meg hopped excitedly. “It’s a race!”
“Would you like me to put both boats into the water?” he asked.
“Not at all.” Caroline reached for the blue boat. “You may be honorable in most aspects of your life, my lord, but if memory serves, boat racing is not one of them. I will not have you setting the red one ahead of the blue one right at the start.”
“Ah!” Benedict placed a hand on his chest. “I am wounded by your vicious words.”
Her blue eyes sparkled with merriment. “It’s a very good thing Henry is not here. He would likely insist upon setting the red boat on the water as well.” And then, as though she were ten years old again, she knelt at the riverbank and held her boat over the water. “Will you start us off, Meg?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Caroline nodded. “We are ready, my lord.”
Benedict knelt beside her and extended his arm over hers so that the red boat lay parallel to the blue one. He leaned closer. Their shoulders touched, but she did not move away. She smelled of fresh air and flowers. Her warmth penetrated his coat sleeve, leaving his skin tingling. At his other side, Meg was hopping and clapping. Before him, the water gurgled, and a blackbird sang. But for three long heartbeats, time stood still.
“Ready?” Meg called.
Benedict blinked. No. He was not sure what he was, but it definitely wasn’t ready.
“Steady,” Meg said.
With his thoughts whirling, he lowered his boat so the hull grazed the water.
“Go!” Meg cried.
Caroline released her boat a fraction of a second before Benedict, and the blue craft surged into an early lead.
“Yay! The blue boat is winning!” Meg ran along the bank, keeping pace with the bobbing boats.
“Go fast, little blue!” Caroline called, brushing the grass off her gown as she came to her feet.
Benedict stood beside her, desperately attempting to put whatever he’d just experienced behind him. It was nothing. He took a step back. That helped. It was easier to believe he’d imagined his response to Caroline’s touch if he couldn’t smell her floral perfume.
“It looks like the red boat is destined to finish last every time.” Caroline laughed.
Shaking off his unsettling thoughts, Benedict turned his attention to Wesley. The young man had already fished the blue boat out of the water and was waiting for the red one to reach him.
“I obviously need to improve my launching technique,” Benedict said.
Caroline’s eyes sparkled. “Does that mean you wish a rematch?”
“Absolutely.” Not if it meant he was pressed up against her, however. He could only ignore so much. “This time, I’ll help Meg launch it.”
As soon as he’d rescued both sailboats, Wesley walked them back to Benedict. “Are they going again, my lord?”
“They are, indeed.” He caught Meg’s eye. She’d followed Wesley and was intently watching the transfer of the small vessels into Benedict’s hands. “What do you think, Meg? Would you like to release the red one this time?”
“Yes.” She beamed and reached for the red sailboat.
He handed it to her and then offered the other one to Caroline. “This might take getting my feet wet,” he said, “but a win for the red sailboat will be worth it.” Tugging off his boots, he set them beside the blanket and stuffed his stockings inside them. “Come,” he said, extending his arms to Meg. “You hold the boat, and I shall hold you.”
Meg came willingly. As he lifted her off the ground, she threaded one small arm around his neck and held on tight.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded, her eyes shining with excitement. “Where are we going?”
His heart swelled at her complete trust in him. “Into the river,” he said. “So hold on tight.”
The arm around his neck tightened, and he moved to the water’s edge.
“If you launch where you did before, Caroline, Meg and I will put our boat in a foot or two farther into the river.”
Caroline studied the spot uncertainly. “Can you manage getting into the water with her?”
“Yes.” He caught the hint of anxiety in her voice. “I give you my word, I shall not drop her.”
She met his eyes. “I know.”
Benedict was not sure what he’d done to gain Caroline’s and Meg’s full confidence, but he was determined not to fail either of them. Setting the bulk of his weight on his right foot, he slowly lowered the left one into the river. He sucked in a breath. The water was frigid.
“Are you all right?” Caroline asked.
“I am quite sure the water temperature is significantly colder than it was when I was ten.”
“We could launch from the shore again,” she suggested.
He shook his head, braced himself, and submerged his right foot. “The worst is over. One foot is already numb.” Taking a cautious step forward, he moved away from the bank. The water rushed past, splashing his breeches. He took two more steps before turning downstream. “Are you ready, Meg?” he asked.
“Yes.” She had yet to relax her tense grip on his neck.
“If you let go of my neck for just a moment, I shall lower you enough that you can set the boat on the water.” He glanced at Caroline. She had resumed her kneeling position on the riverbank and was holding the blue boat over the water. “Are you ready, Caroline?”
“Ready,” she said.
“The red sailboat needs a win, Meg,” he said.
The little girl nodded enthusiastically and released her hold on him so as to grasp the red boat with both hands. “This time it will reach the rock first,” she said.
With a grin, he carefully lowered her so she was suspended over the water. “Ready. Steady. Go.”
Meg and Caroline released their boats simultaneously. Benedict raised Meg, and she instantly wrapped her arm around his neck again.
“It’s winning,” she cried, pointing with her free hand. “The red one is winning!”
The numbness in Benedict’s feet had worked its way to his knees, but he remained in the water, watching and cheering with Meg as the red sailboat made its triumphant run toward Wesley. Moments later, the footman swung the fishing net into the water, catching the red boat handily as it passed the boulder.
“Yay!” Meg cheered.
On the riverbank, Caroline clapped her hands. “Well done, my lord. Well done, Meg.”
Boyish delight filled Benedict. “The red boat challenges the blue boat to the best of three,” he called.
“The blue boat accepts the challenge,” Caroline replied, turning to meet Wesley.
Carrying both captured boats, the footman handed the blue one to Caroline and carefully tossed the red one to Benedict. Benedict caught it one-handed and offered it to Meg. She seized it.
“We can win again, Lord Benting,” she said.
“Yes, we can,” Benedict said, lowering her over the water. “Shall we show your mother how it’s done?”
Meg nodded enthusiastically.
“I would not be so sure, red team,” Caroline teased. She was already leaning forward, her small vessel in position. “The blue boat is ready.”
A quick glance downstream told Benedict that Wesley had returned to his position near the bolder. “Very well,” he said. “Ready. Steady. Go!”
With a squeal of excitement, Meg released the red boat, and both little vessels floated away.