Chapter 3 #2
In the lead, Anne rounded the corner of the house and glanced over her shoulder to gauge the distance between herself and her nieces.
A shiver of excitement propelled her forward at the sight of the girls several yards behind.
Without warning, the ground beneath her feet sloped, and she jerked her attention back in front of her.
Why hadn’t she remembered the lake was situated at the bottom of a steep hill? !
Thanks to the downward momentum the decline provided, Anne’s already rapid pace increased, and—much to her dismay—her feet failed to gain purchase on the soft grass.
Even more to her dismay, not only were the two other girls at the foot of the steep hill, but their father was as well.
Hadn’t he just gone inside?
“Aunt Anne! The lake!” Indira called out—or it may have been Eleanor. At that moment, arms windmilling at her sides, Anne was too busy trying to slow her descent to discern which twin had shouted the warning.
As if she didn’t see the lake growing ever closer!
Lord Manning turned toward the commotion, then waved his arms at his daughters.
The two girls scampered out of Anne’s way.
He held out his hands toward her as if the mere motion would slow her down. “Stop!”
Oh, God. She was going to fall into the lake!
With the water mere feet away, he raced sideways and, grabbing hold of her, threw her to the ground.
“Oomph!” Air whooshed from Anne’s lungs as the viscount’s full weight landed on top of her.
A lock of dark-auburn hair fell over his forehead. His nose an inch from hers, he stared down at her. He had the loveliest green eyes. The color of . . . seafoam?
Before she could ponder the color further, he rolled off her. He stood and brushed off his trousers. “Forgive me. But I didn’t know if you could swim, and had I not intervened, you would have surely landed in the water.”
For the second time in less than an hour, he held out his hand to help her off the ground. At least that time, she didn’t have to ask. But once again, the heated charge rushing through her as his fingers closed around hers made her head spin.
She cleared her throat and gathered her wits. “I can swim, and surely it’s not that deep.”
“Deep or not, you would have ruined that gown or come out looking like a drowned rat.”
The nerve! “I take umbrage at that remark, sir. It’s most ungentlemanly to refer to a lady as a drowned rat!”
He lifted one—very broad—shoulder in an insouciant shrug. “A wilted lily, then?” The sly uptick at the corner of his lips set her even more on edge.
“Are you mocking me, sir?”
“Not at all. I’m merely trying to find a suitable description you won’t find offensive. However, it’s a moot point since you, in fact, did not fall into the lake.” He paused, a grin breaking across his face. “Thanks to me.”
Having joined them not long after Lord Manning had unceremoniously thrown her to the ground, Indira and Eleanor watched with wide eyes, and the other two girls giggled.
“Papa, you’re like a knight in shining armor,” the youngest of the girl quartet said. A tiny thing, she seemed frail, with huge dark eyes and chestnut curls that framed her heart-shaped face.
Anne didn’t have the heart to inform the little cherub that her father was nothing like a knight. Instead, she smiled indulgently. “And what might your name be?”
“Forgive me,” Lord Grumpy-Trousers said. “In my haste to rescue you from a watery demise, I’ve forgotten my manners. Permit me to make the introductions. Miss Anne Weatherby, my daughters. Cassandra is my eldest, and this waif is Elinor.”
The affection shining in his eyes mingled with a sadness that squeezed Anne’s heart.
“She has red hair like yours and Aunt Honoria, Papa,” the older girl said.
Sturdier than Elinor, Cassandra had the same chestnut hair and large brown eyes as her sister.
She executed a perfect curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Weatherby. You may call me Cassie. Only Papa calls me Cassandra, and only when he’s angry. ”
“So often, then?” Anne said and shot the disagreeable man a smirk.
The man had the temerity to look affronted.
Anne ignored him and addressed the younger girl. “And I understand most people call you Ellie?”
“Yes, miss.” The girl cocked her head, studying Anne as if she were an exhibit in a stuffy museum. “I like your freckles.”
Heat scalded Anne’s cheeks, and she resisted the urge to cover them, especially since Lord I’m-a-Knight’s assessing gaze locked on her.
A shadow of a smile played across his lips. How dare he enjoy her embarrassment! The cad. No doubt he compared her to titled ladies—and found her lacking.
For once she regretted not following her mother’s advice to shade her fair skin from the summer sun.
Rather than provide him an opening to insult her, she ignored the child’s comment entirely.
“Well, then, Ellie, that is fortunate, as one of my nieces is also named Eleanor.” She turned toward her nieces. “And this is Indira.”
Smug satisfaction rolled through her as the girls performed curtsies as perfect as those of the viscount’s daughters. She would compliment Alice later. Andrew certainly had nothing to do with the girls’ manners.
“Aunt Honoria said you’re twins, but you don’t look alike,” Cassie said.
“We’re not identical twins,” Eleanor explained—patiently, Anne was relieved to say.
No need to give Lord Grumpy-Trousers any more reason to disparage the Weatherby name. He no doubt had already made a list in his mind from Anne’s two brief encounters with him.
Deciding to play a game of hide and seek, the four girls raced back to the house.
Her attention jerked back to Lord Grumpy-Trousers as he cleared his throat.
“Well, since they’ve found something safe to occupy themselves with, I shall take my leave. I only came out here to warn them against playing so near the lake. If you’re still looking for your brother, he and Burwood are having tea with the ladies in the small parlor.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t want to thank him. Not really. But manners being required in polite society . . . well. “Will you be joining them?”
He shook his head. “But I would be happy to escort you inside if you wish.”
Part of her yearned to take his proffered arm, if only to feel the muscle beneath the coat’s material. My! What had brought that thought on? However, the stubborn part her mother told her would someday cause her heartbreak refused to give Lord Moody-Manning the satisfaction. “No, thank you.”
“Very well.” He bowed and strode off up the hill toward the house.
As she watched his retreating back—yet again—she cursed her stubbornness and prepared for the climb up the steep hill.