Chapter 4
Four
James had long held that nights were meant to be survived, and mornings be avoided. Nonetheless, here he was, awake at an hour that ought to have been outlawed, sitting in the bow of a rowing boat on the Serpentine with the odd sensation that he might actually be pleased about it.
"Rowing is excellent for the constitution," Magnus had said an hour ago.
"Disastrous for my reputation," James had replied, but he had come anyway.
Now, sunlight scattered across the water. Hyde Park hummed with life. The air smelled of damp earth, spring flowers, and gossip.
Magnus handled the oars with competence. Alexandra lounged opposite him under a vast straw hat, parasol tilted against the sun, trailing gloved fingers in the water whenever she thought Magnus was not looking.
"This is very pastoral," James said. "I dislike it intensely."
"No one believes you," Alexandra murmured. "You're almost smiling."
"That is a trick of the light," he said. "I am scowling inwardly.”
“Indeed,” Simon Berkshire, Magnus’s brother said.
Magnus glanced toward the shore. "Inwardly or not, compose yourself. The Woodmere's carriage has just arrived."
James straightened despite himself.
Along the path, the Woodmere equipage drew up. Lord Woodmere stepped down first, then the dowager, Lady Woodmere herself in dove-grey silk. Last came Esme and Genny, stepping down together.
Esme wore pale blue today, her bonnet ribbons tied beneath her chin. The color turned her eyes greener, picked out gold in their depths. Even at this distance, Redford saw her pause on the path, drawing in the morning air.
Beside her, Genny said something that made Esme's mouth twitch. Woodmere gestured toward the Row.
James felt his pulse quicken.
"Well," Alexandra said, following his gaze. "There go the sensible arrangements."
Magnus rested on the oars, letting the boat drift. "I presume this is not a coincidence."
James adopted an expression of innocence. "I may have mentioned that Hyde Park is most diverting on Tuesday mornings."
"And I may have mentioned that the Serpentine is improved by the presence of boats and bad decisions," Alexandra said.
"You are both menaces," Magnus said.
"Auspicious," Alexandra corrected serenely.
James ignored them, watching as the Woodmeres approached the hire-boats.
Woodmere spoke to the boatman while his mother inspected the boat, skepticism etched into her brow. Esme and Genny stood apart, watching ducks quarrel over crumbs.
The ducks, James thought, had the right idea. Entirely uninterested in arrangements, entirely committed to taking what crumbs they pleased.
He cleared his throat. "Berkshire. Langley."
Magnus sighed. "Yes, Redford?"
"It occurs to me that the Serpentine is a hazardous place."
Alexandra's eyes gleamed. "Is it?"
"Perilous currents. Treacherous ducks. A shocking scarcity of companions well-versed in the art of not being bored,” James said, his gaze following Esme.
Magnus's mouth twitched. "You wish to go ashore."
"Briefly," James conceded. "To pay my respects, to see whether Lady Esme has survived another evening with her parents' expectations intact."
"And to meddle," Alexandra added.
"Only a little," he said.
Magnus considered. "If I row you to the bank, will you promise not to drown anyone?"
"I shall make every effort.” James grinned. "Unless provoked."
Alexandra laughed. "Oh, row him in, Magnus. If we don't supervise, he will only find a worse idea."
Magnus muttered something about martyrdom, then angled the boat toward the nearest landing.
By the time James stepped onto the small wooden platform, shaking his cuffs back into place, the Woodmere party had secured a boat of their own. Woodmere stood in the stern, while the dowager Viscountess negotiated the exact number of oars required.
Esme and Genny waited on the bank.
James approached with his most disarming bow. "Lady Esme. Miss Moreland. How very industrious of you to be awake before noon."
Genny brightened at once. "Lord Redford! Have you come to rescue us from watery doom, or to cause it?"
"On this occasion," he said, "I am merely an observer of nature. I hear the Serpentine is at its most dangerous when infested with matchmaking mamas."
Esme's lips curved. "Hyde Park is considered entirely safe, my lord, provided one keeps to the proper paths."
"And do you?" he asked.
Her gaze flicked toward the carriage road, then back to the water.
"Not always," she said.
Genny bounced. "We are to row, can you imagine? Woodmere says it will be 'wholesome.' I suspect he intends to steer us in circles until we admit that marriage is the only sensible alternative."
"An alarming doctrine," James said. “Lady Woodmere intends to accompany you?"
"Indeed," Esme said, "and frown disapprovingly at anyone who laughs too loudly. Lord Woodmere will keep us from colliding with anything interesting."
James heard himself say, "You could always defect."
Her brows rose. "Defect?"
"To a more entertaining vessel," he said lightly. "I happen to have one moored near by."
Genny clapped her hands. "Oh, yes! Let us mutiny. I have always wanted to be a pirate."
“Lord Woodmere will never allow it," Esme said.
"Then we must make it his idea," James replied.
Esme gave him a look that said she recognized the reference and was both wary and tempted.
Before she could answer, Woodmere approached, hat tipped, expression polite and faintly grim.
"Birkshire," he said, giving a nod. "Redford."
"Viscount," James returned. "You have chosen a fine morning to test Lady Woodmere's boating nerves."
Woodmere’s mouth did not quite soften. "The water is calm. The park is crowded. It will be perfectly safe."
"For whom?" James murmured, then added more loudly, "As it happens, I am also on the water this morning. If you wished, we could—"
"No," Woodmere said.
Alexandra and Magnus had drawn nearer, Magnus steadying the hire-boat at the landing, Alexandra smiling with dangerous brightness.
"—form a small flotilla," James finished smoothly. "Safety in numbers, and all that. We can keep to the middle, out of the way of less experienced oarsmen."
Woodmere hesitated long enough for Berkshire to say, “A fine idea Redford. I will join Woodmere’s boat.”
"Very well," Woodmere said at last. "One lap of the Serpentine together. No races, no foolishness."
"Perish the thought," James said.
Genny leaned toward Esme. "The Mutual Mischief Society grows," she whispered.
Esme's pulse gave a small leap.
"Lady Esme, Miss Moreland?” Woodmere nodded toward the boat.
"We shall join Lord and Lady Langley," Esme answered. "It will be... sociable."
Woodmere’s jaw flexed. "Very well. But stay in sight of our boat."
"Of course," James said. "We would not dream of depriving Woodmere of the pleasure of supervising us."
Alexandra extended a hand to Esme. "Come, my dear. Let us see whether the Serpentine can withstand us."
Esme took it.
James swallowed back a triumphant laugh.
It was not James’s fault that the boat listed.
The boat rocked, then steadied. All perfectly respectable.
The trouble began with the duck.
They had made one slow circuit of the lake, Woodmere keeping a wary distance in his own craft, when Alexandra demanded a pause.
"I wish to look at the willow," she said, pointing toward a great tree whose branches trailed in the water.
From here, the noise of the park dulled, the light softened by green. Esme felt the air grow cooler, scented with damp wood.
"It's like being in a tent," Genny whispered.
"We are in full view," Esme said, though her voice had dropped.
"Not of your mother," James pointed out.
She refused to turn to see where her brother’s boat had drifted. "A dangerous remark, my lord."
"An accurate one," he said.
Through gaps in the willow, she could see her brothers party gliding along the opposite shore, safely occupied.
"You look relieved," James said, watching her. "As if your stays have loosened without effort."
She shot him a look. "You are not to speak of my stays, Lord Redford."
"My apologies," he said. "I shall confine myself to ducks."
"Speaking of which," Genny said, leaning over the side, "this one looks particularly arrogant."
A large drake had paddled up to their boat, eyeing them with an expectant stare. Genny produced a biscuit from her reticule.
"Miss Moreland," Magnus said, "if you feed it—"
She dropped a crumb.
The duck lunged. So did two more that had been lurking beneath the branches. Water splashed. The boat rocked.
"Careful," Alexandra said, laughter threading through the warning. "We shall be overrun."
Genny squeaked as one bold duck flapped up onto the low thwart, wet feet slapping.
Esme grabbed Genny's arm as James lunged to shoo the duck back into the water.
The boat tilted.
For one instant, Esme and James locked eyes.
"Oh," she said softly.
Then the boat went over.
Sky where water ought to be, willow branches whipping, Genny shrieking about her shoes, Magnus swearing, Alexandra laughing.
James's hand closed around Esme’s wrist.
The shock of the Serpentine stole Esme’s breath. Her skirts tangled, dragging at her legs. Panic flared, but before it could take hold, she felt Redford's grip tighten.
"Hold on," he said, voice rough and calm, close to her ear. “You are all right. Feet down. It is not so deep as you think."
She obeyed.
Her slippers found mud, then the firmness of the lakebed. The water was now merely unpleasant as it surged around her waist.
She sputtered, pushing hair and willow leaves out of her face.
Genny thrashed nearby, managing to stand. Magnus had already found his footing, hauling Alexandra upright with one arm while she clung to her floating hat.
The upended boat bobbed beside them. Ducks scattered.
On the shore, a hundred faces had turned toward them.
"Breathe," Redford said quietly.
She did.
Cold water trickled beneath her bodice. Her bonnet was gone, and her hair hung in dark ropes around her shoulders. Her gloves were ruined.