Chapter 11 #3
Hetty laughed and lost no time in plunging back into the water, and launched herself upon a wave, swimming farther out as seagulls cried raucously overhead.
“Don’t go out too far!” Cilly’s voice, ever cautious, joined the sound of the gulls and Hetty turned onto her back.
“I won’t!” she replied, and swam along, parallel to the shore.
Hetty sighed with pleasure, enjoying the chance to stretch her muscles. The water gave her a sense of freedom, though swimming with the heavy material dragging about her legs was not as easy as it might be. Still, it was worth the effort.
She was not idle by nature and loved to walk and ride and get outside, but since Gideon had kissed her and then apologised for it, the joy seemed to have gone out of her, and with it any desire to bestir herself.
Yet that was stupid. She would not allow herself to mope about because the fellow she fancied did not feel the same way.
Or at least, not enough to put himself out for her.
She told herself it was his loss, but it would be hers too if she did not get out and enjoy her time here with Cilly.
Her sister would be married by the end of this year, and then Hetty would be alone until she followed suit.
If she didn’t want to stay that way, she must find herself a man, one that she liked and who liked her, and that her father would approve of.
Not too much to ask, she thought morosely, as she turned around and swam back the way she came.
As she made her way back to the bathing huts, she saw Cilly help Gee-Gee to her feet and make their way towards them.
“Did you have a good swim?” Cilly asked.
“Marvellous,” Hetty replied, determined to be cheerful. “Well, your grace, what do you think of sea bathing now?”
“I think it’s wonderful and I ought to have tried it years ago,” Gee-Gee said stoutly. “I feel ten years younger. I shall come again the next chance I have.”
Hetty and Cilly laughed with delight. “Come on then, let us go a little deeper,” Hetty said with a grin. “Then we’d best get ourselves dry.”
Gideon wrapped the towel around his middle and flopped down on the blanket Damian had provided.
“Here,” Damian said, thrusting a bottle of ale at him.
Gideon took it, drinking greedily and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “I’ve got to admit it, Damian. This was a bloody good idea.”
“Good God,” Damian exclaimed, pressing a hand to his heart and attempting to look thunderstruck. “Don’t tell me I did something right for once in my sorry life.”
“For once,” Gideon agreed, grinning as he lifted the bottle and took another swallow.
“Have you seen the ladies again since we dined with them?” Damian asked, lifting his own bottle to his lips.
Gideon darted a glance at him, wondering why he asked. “No. Have you?”
Damian shrugged. “I bumped into Lady Cecilia outside Madame Auguste’s. She was waiting for her sister, but no. Other than that, I have not.”
“Did you speak to her?” Gideon asked, suddenly wary.
Damian set the bottle down, rummaging in the picnic basket he’d had made up for them. “Only a few words, good day, how do you do, the usual pretty nonsense.”
“And that’s all?” Gideon asked suspiciously.
Damian looked up, a frown between his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”
Gideon shook his head. He didn’t want to argue with his brother, not today when they were in accord for the first time in… in he couldn’t remember how long. “Nothing. I was just curious. I’ve yet to see you interact with a female without flirting with her, that’s all. But it’s none of my business.”
“I don’t flirt with respectable females,” Damian muttered, thrusting a packet at Gideon who took it, opening the waxed paper to find a stack of sandwiches.
“You flirted with the dowager appallingly,” Gideon said with a laugh.
Damian relaxed a degree at this observation. “Very well, I don’t flirt with marriageable, respectable females. Only if they are married, or old enough and sensible enough to know I’m not in earnest.”
“Fair enough.” Gideon lounged back on the blanket, propped on one elbow. It was wonderfully peaceful, with no sound but the lapping of the waves on the shore, the cries of the seagulls overhead, and a playful breeze that ruffled his hair.
They sat in companionable silence, munching on the delicious roast beef sandwiches provided by the hotel and enjoying an unusual moment of amity.
Having polished off the ale and the sandwiches, Gideon closed his eyes and must have fallen asleep for a time, for the next thing he knew, Damian was standing over him.
“Wake up, old man. You’re not in your dotage yet. Are you coming back in for another swim?”
Gideon blinked up at him, shielding his eyes from the sun with his arm.
He felt pleasantly sleepy and relaxed, but Damian had such a boyish glint in his eyes that he had not the heart to deny him.
It was so rare to see Damian anything other than immaculate and sophisticated that he had forgotten this side of him.
He’d been full of mischief as a child and ripe for adventure, as well as being Gideon’s staunchest protector.
Somehow, somewhere, they had drifted apart, too many differences and disagreements as adults lay between them now, but for the first time, Gideon wondered if perhaps all was not lost.
“All right,” he said reluctantly, smothering a yawn.
“Surely, you’re not timid, Deon? Last one in buys a bottle of the best brandy.” So saying, Damian dropped his towel and ran towards the sea, as naked at the day he was born.
“Dammit, Damian, that’s not fair,” Gideon bellowed, scrambling to his feet and casting his towel down as he set off in hot pursuit.
Whilst Damian had always bested Gideon in a fight, Gideon was faster. He caught his brother with ease and the two of them plunged into the waves side by side.
They came up, spluttering and laughing, shaking water from their hair like dogs.
“Christ, it’s cold again. You’d think you’d get used to it,” Damian said, laughing. “Come along, let’s swim before the North Sea freezes our ballocks off.”
He set out, swimming strongly, parallel with the shore. Gideon followed, calling out to him.
“All right, but not too far. We don’t want to scandalise the town, remember.”
Damian hesitated, treading water. “All right then, if you fear for your modesty. We’ll go the other way. It’s bound to be deserted past those rocks.”
Gideon nodded, agreeing it was the safer choice. “How about a wager, as neither of us must buy that bottle of brandy.”
“Go on,” Damian said, his eyes alight with the desire for a challenge.
“The first one to climb to the top of those rocks wins, loser buys the brandy.”
“You’re on,” Damian said with a grin.
“All right, on the count of three. One, two… Damian, you utter bastard!”
Gideon plunged forward after his brother, the two of them swimming as hard and fast as they could. They had always been competitive, that was half the trouble.
The sea was rather rougher as they reached the rocks, which were both slippery and sharp in places. Gideon cursed as he tried to get a handhold, seeing Damian’s bare arse flash past him as he clambered up.
Finally, he caught hold of a jutting piece of rock and found a foothold and hauled himself out of the water. Determined now, he hurried to match Damian’s strength and speed, climbing up to stand at the top, several seconds before Damian.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, pointing at Damian and not above a little crowing. “You lose! Admit it, old man, I’m just younger and fitter.”
Damian snorted as he came to stand beside him. “I admit nothing of the sort. You just got lucky, but I’ll allow you your little victory as it’s surely your first over me.”
“You are a conceited ass,” Gideon remarked, but with no heat. Too at peace with his troublesome brother for once to feel the bite of his sarcastic tongue. They stood side by side, surveying the scene around them. Miles and miles of open water and empty sand and… wait.
“Bloody hell!” Damian exclaimed, noting the two bathing machines at the same moment as Gideon had. “Is that…”
“The dowager duchess of Hawkney and the ladies,” Gideon yelled in alarm, hurrying to the edge of the rock and diving in.
He looked up, watching with chagrin as Damian gave a courtly bow to the ladies before jumping off the rock with all the grace of a cannonball.
Hetty covered her mouth with her hands as she watched Viscount Ridley jump back into the sea, causing a splash that submerged his brother.
For a moment she wondered if she were dreaming, unable to reject the idea that she might have conjured up the magnificent vision of a naked Mr Bramwell out of sheer desperation. Surely not?
She turned, stunned and on the verge of laughter, as she wondered how her sister and the dowager were taking the shocking scene. Her eyes met theirs, and the three of them dissolved into hysterical laughter.
“Oh,” Gee-Gee said, her hand covering her heart. “This is far too much excitement for a lady of my years. But I shall certainly come again. Oh, wait until I tell Helena, she will be so jealous!”
Still giggling like schoolgirls, the three of them helped Gee-Gee back to her bathing machine before hauling themselves out of the sea too, taking acres of sopping material with them. Getting it all off was a chore, and it took an age before they were dry and dressed.
They waited as the horses drew the bathing machines back to shore and stepped out, milling about on the sand as they waited for Gee-Gee to appear. Hetty bent to pick up a pale pink shell, turning it in her hand and brushing off the sand.
“Well, that was… exciting,” Cilly said, her cheeks as pink as the pretty seashell as Hetty glanced up at her.
“Don’t tell me you looked!” Hetty exclaimed as she stood up, pretending to be scandalised, though the image of Gideon Bramwell in nothing but his skin and dripping wet had been burned onto the inside of her eyelids.
Cilly returned an expression of exasperation. “Don’t be dim, Hetty. Of course, I looked. He’s… he’s very fine, isn’t he?”