Chapter 8
Anne bent over, trying her best to catch her breath. Perhaps she wasn’t as young as she thought. Flash’s tail wagged, his little bottom in the air. Was the pup taunting her to continue her pursuit?
Sneaking up from behind, Ellie scooped the puppy up in her arms. “I got him!”
Anne smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm. In truth, Anne was more than pleased it had been the youngest and seemingly frailest of the girls to capture the rambunctious pup, although Anne suspected her eldest sister and the other children had made allowances.
Subtle sadness, hidden beneath the surface but still palpable, muted the sparkle in Ellie’s eyes. Cassandra’s as well, and Anne’s heart broke for the two motherless girls.
“Well . . . done, Ellie!” Anne managed the congratulations in-between panting breaths.
Ellie cradled the squirming puppy and gave him a kiss on his wet nose.
Anne laughed, not wishing to tell the girl that very kissable nose had no doubt poked its way into a variety of disgusting items.
Cassandra petted the pup’s head. “I do hope Papa allows us to have a puppy of our own.”
Anne very much doubted that possibility, but she didn’t want to dash the girls’ hopes. “What would you call him or her?”
Ellie pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, her expression growing serious. Her eyes popped open. “I know! Floppy! It could work for a boy or a girl.”
Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a name for a rabbit.”
“I like it,” Indira said.
Anne always appreciated Indira’s kind heart, never more than at that moment as Ellie’s face brightened.
“Auntie Anne,” Eleanor said, “do you think our papa will let us have one?”
Anne stooped to eye-level with her niece. “We won’t ask him. I’ll ask Mr. Ford to acquire one for me, and we can share.”
“I sense collusion,” a deep male voice said, and Anne’s attention jerked toward Lord Grump.
Where did he come from? Could she not get a moment’s rest from that man? It had been such a nice, peaceful afternoon. Well, peaceful running after a rambunctious puppy.
Ellie peered up at her father, her eyes as big and pleading as the puppy’s she held. “He’s so sweet, Papa.” She kissed the pup on the nose again.
Lord Grump’s lovely sea-foam-green eyes grew so wide, Anne feared—or was it hoped?—he would keel over from apoplexy. Well, in all honesty, she didn’t hope so. The girls had already lost one parent.
“Ellie, that dog’s nose has been sniffing in the most unsavory places!”
Anne couldn’t really disagree, but the least he could do was not yell and frighten the child.
“I’m afraid your father is right, Ellie.” Anne shot the grump a glance.
“You’re agreeing with me?”
“Why does that surprise you? I’m not going to disagree simply for the sake of disagreeing.”
He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
The nerve! “I’m sure your father is concerned for your health in the event Flash has sniffed something that would upset your tummy.” She bent low and whispered in Ellie’s ear about how dogs liked to smell their own droppings.
“Oh!” Ellie released the poor pup and wiped furiously at her mouth.
Anne soothed the girl, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m sure it will be fine, Ellie. My brother said I must have eaten a peck of dirt when I was little, and I turned out just fine.”
The grump actually chuckled. “Perhaps it accounted for your stunted growth.”
Anne straightened to her full height, which, granted, wasn’t extremely tall. “Must you always be so insulting! I cannot believe you are even related to Honoria. I think I shall go inside and find more agreeable company.”
“Oh, please, Miss Weatherby. Please, Anne.” Ellie grasped Anne’s wrist. “Don’t leave us. We were having such fun. Papa didn’t mean to be rude.”
Tears welled in the child’s eyes, and Anne peered at the grump, eager to witness his expression of regret that he’d caused his own daughter such distress.
Concern creased the corners of his eyes, and he stooped to his child. “I’m so sorry, Ellie.”
A tear trickled down Ellie’s cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb.
Instead of the evil satisfaction she expected to rise in her bosom at causing him shame and unease, compassion nudged its way forward.
Such tenderness nearly knocked Anne off her feet.
Even more so when he turned those lovely green eyes filled with regret on her.
“And to you, Miss Weatherby, I owe the sincerest of apologies. Forgive my callousness. My daughters have had little joy in their lives as of late, and here I am intruding and stripping it away from them yet again. I should leave you all in peace.”
When he turned away, the urge to stop him overwhelmed Anne, and she stepped to the side, reaching out to grasp his arm the same moment the puppy decided to weave itself through her legs.
She stumbled, and her ankle twisted as it slid into a depression in the lawn. Arms windmilling, she fell, only then remembering how close they were playing to the water’s edge as she rolled into the lake.
Noxious water seeped into her mouth and nostrils as she flailed about. Deeper than she imagined so close to the shoreline, she struggled to touch bottom. Layers of material from her skirts and petticoats became sodden and heavy, pulling her farther under as she fought against the weight.
After surfacing once, and spewing the water from her mouth, she gave a feeble cry for help before the water pulled her under again. Good grief! Would she really drown in the duke’s lake?
Silt from the lake’s bottom swirled around her, and something large splashed into the water beside her. Someone’s hands grasped her about the waist, but her body wouldn’t budge. As blackness crept into her vision, she saw the panicked face of Lord Manning as he pointed below her, then disappeared.
The cad! Did the foolish man want her to go farther under? Wasn’t it enough he was leaving her to drown?! Her lungs burned. Her eyes stung, and her final thought before her impending death was Not yet. I haven’t even been kissed.
Colin wanted to laugh as Miss Weatherby rolled into the lake.
But as she tried to right herself, rather than gaining her footing and standing in what he’d presumed was only several feet of water, she disappeared beneath the surface.
His amusement turned to panic when she surfaced and uttered a mournful cry for help.
Stripping off his coat with lightning speed, he raced into the lake. Only then did he realize how it dropped off precipitously, and even at his height, he sank underneath the water.
He surfaced quickly and pulled in great lungfuls of air, then dove back under. Before him, Miss Weatherby fought against the pull of the water.
With his hands around her waist, he kicked upward, but she wouldn’t move. A glance down identified the problem.
Colin dove lower and tugged at Miss Weatherby’s skirts caught on a branch.
The material ripped and set her free. One arm around her waist, he kicked upward and pulled her limp body above the water’s surface.
Her head lolled back, and he tried to support it against his chest as he swam them both to the lake’s edge.
Several of the children had run screaming for help, and people rushed from the terrace. Ellie remained and stood like a sentinel, the puppy clutched in her arms. Her gaze shot to Colin’s, the worry in her dark eyes stabbing at his chest. “Flash didn’t mean to do it, Papa. Really.”
“Here, let me help.” Ashton held out his arms as Colin lifted Miss Weatherby from the water.
“I don’t think she’s breathing,” Colin said, struggling for breath himself.
Ashton laid her flat on the ground, then leaned down toward her face.
Andrew Weatherby crumpled to the ground next to Ashton. Pain contorted his face. “Anne. Anne. What have you done this time?”
Next to Anne’s prostrate body, Honoria bent down across from Ashton and Weatherby, her gaze catching Ashton’s, stoic and calm as always. “Can you revive her as Adalyn did to Miss Fingers when she fell into the Serpentine?”
“I’ll do my best.” Ashton proceeded to clamp Miss Weatherby’s nose with his fingers. When he lowered his mouth to Miss Weatherby’s, a sharp pang of jealousy twinged in Colin’s chest.
Ridiculous! He pushed the notion aside.
But when Ashton placed his hands on Miss Weatherby’s ribcage and moved his hands upward, Colin stepped forward. “I say, Your Grace, is that proper?”
One of Andrew Weatherby’s eyebrows lifted as he glanced up at Colin. “As her brother, I can assure you, Lord Manning, I trust Harry with the life of everyone I care for.”
Ashton ignored both of them and proceeded to administer the chest massage.
Unable to remove his gaze, Colin didn’t realize Honoria had risen and taken a place by his side until she touched his arm. “Relax, Colin. It must be done, and Ashton is the only one equipped to do so.”
Please, please. Live. Surely, she hadn’t been submerged that long?
Tension in Colin’s neck released when Miss Weatherby coughed and water spurted from her mouth.
Ashton turned her onto her side and rubbed her back. “That’s it, Anne. Deep breaths.”
“We must get her inside and into some dry clothing,” Honoria said.
When Ashton nodded and moved to lift Miss Weatherby in his arms, Colin stepped forward and tapped his shoulder. “Allow me. I’m already wet.” It was a poor excuse, and Colin was fairly certain Honoria saw right through it.
But as he knelt beside the Nymph of Nuisance, the moniker he’d assigned taking on a new and more affectionate meaning, he found he didn’t care. Let them all think what they would.
“Miss Weatherby,” he said, doing his level best to keep his voice calm although his insides shook from residual fear. “Can you place your arms around my neck?”
Confusion filled those blue eyes as she stared up at him, but she nodded. She lifted her arms, only to have them fall limply back to her body.
“Never mind.” Careful to cradle her head against his chest, he lifted her against his body and rose.
His thighs burned from the climb once again, this time from the added weight of Miss Weatherby. But he didn’t mind. He accepted it as punishment for his callous remarks and taunts.
“Follow me, Colin.” Honoria led the way to Anne’s bedchamber.
A pitiful moan escaped from Anne’s lips as Colin placed her on the soft mattress, then stepped back, feeling completely helpless and lost.
Burwood stepped next to him. “Don’t,” he whispered.
Colin raised his eyebrows in question.
“Blame yourself,” his brother-in-law clarified. “It was an accident. And Anne will be fine.”
Ah. Colin forced a weak smile. “Worry not, brother. No marriage proposals are on the horizon.”
A small crowd had gathered in Anne’s room, and Ashton gently ushered them out. “Alice, we’ll all step outside while you get Anne into some dry clothes, then I’d like to examine her more fully.”
As Colin stepped outside, Ellie stepped in front of him. “You saved her, Papa.” Still clutching the puppy in her arms, Ellie stared at him, and his chest swelled with happiness at the pride shining in his daughter’s eyes.
He’d been so distant. Wrapped in his own guilt and grief for far too long. He made a vow. He would be a more present father to his daughters.
In his own room, Colin washed off the remaining lake residue and, with Fitz’s capable assistance, redressed in dry clothing.
The man chattered about Colin’s gallantry and how the whole of Burwood’s staff was abuzz with the news. “You are quite the hero, my lord.”
Colin doubted Miss Weatherby would describe him as such. Once recovered, she might very well accuse him of sending her into the lake to begin with.
But the whole event had sent Colin’s mind reeling back to his girls. And he reconsidered his words to Burwood. He would find them a mother.
Tradition dictated he needed a bride from a titled family. Lady Miranda—sensible, poised, and demonstrating good judgment—might serve perfectly as his viscountess.
True, there was no spark of passion, not that his first marriage fared better.
But wasn’t that the point of aristocratic marriages?
No wild passions would muddle rational thought.
They could grow in affection for each other as he and Margery had.
Calm and orderly, that’s what he and the girls needed.
Not a whirlwind of trouble who drove him to distraction.
He would see about arranging more time with Lady Miranda especially around the girls. Surely, she would be a better role model than the elfin menace.
Fitz continued his prattling as he finished knotting Colin’s neckcloth. He chuckled, sending a warning flare up Colin’s spine, and patted him on the chest. “They say Miss Weatherby is bound and determined to catch a husband by hook or crook and will do so here at Hartridge House.”
“Well, rest assured, it won’t be me.”
The girls may need a mother, but Anne Weatherby, the Nymph of Nuisance, would not fill the position.